Kylie
My eyes flutter open and I stretch one of those long Sunday morning stretches that encompasses the length of my bed. But it’s not Sunday. And this is not my bed.
Fuck. I’m in his bed.
What is wrong with me? I said no. I meant no. How do I keep ending up here? I cut myself some slack for the night after the double date. That was understandably an emotional evening for me.
I don’t have an excuse for why I followed him right into his apartment a few days later after we worked out together at the building gym. One minute I was saying goodnight and agreeing to see him on Sunday, the next I’m tearing off his clothes and rolling around his living room floor with him.
“Do you have time for a shower?” Ben asks as he rolls toward me and kisses my shoulder gently. “I have some calls to make but nothing early this morning.”
“I have meetings this morning. I have time for a normal shower but not what you’re thinking.” I playfully slap his chest. “I can’t be an hour late to work again.”
The look he gives me almost makes me waver. No. That’s how I missed an international call last week. I can’t let him become more important to me than my goals.
He hugs me to him. “What are you working on this week?”
I wrap a possessive leg around him and breathe him in. “I’m negotiating with a new manufacturing facility. Their technology will cut our costs by five percent on some of our leading products. If you can believe it, the main facility is in the United States.”
“A public relations win, and a win for the bottom line.” Ben grins as though he’s proud. “You’re good.”
When we’re like this, it doesn’t feel wrong to be with him. I pictured our relationship feeling like a spider’s web, a trap that would hold me in place. I’d struggle against it while watching everything else fall apart. So far, business is doing even better, and I feel better when I’m with him than when I’m not.
I even like talking business with him. Ben is brilliant. We connect in a way I never thought I would with anyone.
“See you after work tonight? Dinner?” he asks. He doesn’t assume. I like that.
I told him we wouldn’t be an everyday thing. I promised myself we’d contain it to the weekends. But it’s just dinner. I have to eat, right? “My last meeting is at five thirty tonight.”
He gives me a long, lazy kiss that makes me want that shower he suggested, then he slaps my ass. “Get going if you don’t want to be late.”
I wag a finger at him. “Watch it, buddy. I slap back.”
“Promises. Promises.”
He gives me that lopsided grin that makes me melt. I never tell him that because he’s already convinced it’s irresistible. Confirming it would only feed his already enlarged ego.
“I’ll meet you by your office. It’s going to be beautiful tonight; we can walk somewhere.” He stretches, and I’m temporarily mesmerized by the way his muscles flex and relax. I didn’t think computer nerds came in beach-ready bodies, but he has proven me wrong. “I’ll start the coffee.” He plops back on the bed. “Oh wait, I don’t have to. I have an app for that now.” He reaches for his phone and types something in.
I shake my head and head for the shower. It’s not until I’m reaching for the blow dryer that I realize how comfortable I am in his apartment. There’s a part of me that’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far it hasn’t.
I head to the kitchen and freeze when I see a small square gift box on the counter. “What’s this?” I ask in a squeaky voice. It can’t be. It would be too soon to . . .
“What do you think?” He hands me the box and a steaming cup of coffee just the way I like it.
I hold it without opening it. “Ben, I really can’t—I’m not ready to—”
“Open it. It’s just a little thank you.”
Okay, now I’m confused. “For?” I shake the box. It rattles. Rings don’t rattle, do they?
The dimple in his cheek becomes more pronounced. “For being my muse. I told you I was between projects, and I was.”
“Okay.”
“Part of my process is to take downtime and wait for something to inspire me.”
“And I did that?”
“You did, and that’s why I have a proposal for you.” He leans in and gives me a kiss so sweet I almost drop the box. When he steps back I lift it to my face with a shaking hand. I don’t want it to be jewelry, but . . .
I unwrap the box and surprise myself by being disappointed. “A zip drive?” I look at the small USB storage stick as though staring long enough will morph it into something else. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a program I developed with you in mind. I want you to beta test it with me.”
“A program?”
“It’s called List to Leisure.”
I clutch the USB tightly in my hand and feel prickly heat crawl up my back. No, it’s not a ring, but in a way it’s even better. He’s not showering me with flowers, trying to impress me with trinkets I could buy for myself. He’s inviting me to be a part of him that most men are usually aggressively protective of. “What does it do?”
“I started thinking what some people need more than anything is a break. A breather. A slowdown. But they don’t get the endorphins they need from that. It’s not the high, the reward, they usually crave.”
“Like us at yoga?”
“Right.” Ben takes the drive and flips open his laptop. I miss it in my hand already. I know it’s silly, but I didn’t want to let it go. “The programming is very basic now. I’ll jazz up the interface if you like it.”
“List to Leisure,” I repeat, trying to sort out exactly what this might entail.
“You schedule your downtime. The program tracks your daily schedule and lets you know when the most impactful moments of rest or leisure should be inserted. You can choose from activities it suggests or plug in your own. If meditation isn’t your thing, you could put zip lining in. Coloring. A quick mindless video game. There are loads of things in there to do.”
“And then what?”
“There’s a goal metric and reward system. The more often you work in self-care and downtime the more points you earn. You can even compete with friends. It turns the breaks you should be taking into a task you can accomplish. And remember this doesn’t take away from your daily schedule, it works around it.”
“And what do I get if I win?” I give a sexy smile as though he has the only reward I want.
“You get to cross it off the list. It becomes a task.” He shows me the screen with the exaggerated slashing motion needed to remove something from the list. “It sounds counterintuitive to schedule fun, rest, or downtime. But you get your fix when you finish a task. When you accomplish something you feel amazing. These become things to tackle, and in doing so you also reap the benefits of the task itself.”
“That’s . . .” I hesitate as I think it over. “That’s really brilliant, Ben. I know about a hundred businesspeople who could use an app like this.” An idea comes to me. “Have you considered partnering with businesses for incentives from them? People who choose massages as a way to relax could earn points toward a free one from a participating vendor.”
“I love it,” he says and kisses me again. “Genius. I usually sell off the app before it gets to that stage, but I like where you’d take it.”
My phone starts to beep as it always does this time of morning. Meeting reminders, text messages from Tabby reminding me of various commitments. Ben reluctantly steps back. I’m glad because I was about to turn off my phone and crawl back into bed with him.
Being with him feels better than anything at work. I shake that feeling off.
He leans a hip against the kitchen counter. “I’ll meet you by your office after your last meeting.”
I pocket the USB. “Thank you, Ben. I love your gift.” The words come out awkwardly. Too close to I love you. Too intimate for my normal guarded stance.
“Good.” He hands me a travel mug, and I pour coffee into it. “Don’t feel like you need to get me something in return. I mean I do love Lamborghinis, exotic vacations, and backstage passes to concerts. But really, no pressure.”
We laugh as I close the door behind me and lose myself in the haze of infatuation. It’s quiet in this bubble. It’s peaceful, filled with hope and images of a future I never pictured for myself.
The bubble doesn’t just pop, it explodes as I round the corner and see him. Luther Green is huddled with a group of other Bachelor Tower tenants grumbling in hushed tones. This is the guy who’s screwing with Dalton at work. I’m almost positive of it. Previously Dalton had threatened him into backing off, but this guy is festering. He’s looking for leverage. Lately whenever I hear a rumor, it leads back to this steaming pile of garbage.
“You get lost?” he asks, making note that I’m on the wrong floor. He doesn’t realize how prepared I am for a man like him.
“There were reports of a foul smell in the building. I thought I’d do my neighborly duty and check it out. I’ll be able to let everyone know I found the source.” A few men snicker because they can’t help themselves.
“You don’t seem to be using your apartment much these days.” A few of the guys jab elbows at each other as though they’d just scored a point.
“The same could be said for you and your brain.”
“I can’t figure out if you’re cocky or just stupid.” He eyes me with a venomous look, and I let out a breathy laugh.
“See, and it only took me a second to figure out which one you are.”
I walk away before he can respond, but I can hear him swearing as the elevator doors close behind me.
The hair on the back of my neck is standing up. I can wait for him to come for me, or I can take him down before then. To survive, it’s better to be first and fierce.