“Stop. You’re going to make me late,” Monica protested, words that were in direct opposition to her hand around my wrist, urging me to keep doing exactly what I was doing. I wasn’t sure what she’d thought I’d do, upon coming home to find her – unexpected – in my shower, skin all soapy and wet, looking like a good time I wanted to be a part of.
What I’d done was gotten naked and joined her, pressing her back into the shower wall while I hooked her legs around my waist and drove into her. And she’d enjoyed every bit of it – especially after I dropped down in front of her, propping her thigh over my shoulder to indulge myself in the wonder between her legs.
But now she wanted to complain about the time, while not letting me stop, after we’d already finished in the shower and then moved to the closet, trying to choose my attire for the night.
“Does it seem like I give a fuck about that right now?” I asked her, closing my eyes as her hand strokes hit a particularly good pace, and she squeezed around me. Monica must’ve hit that same threshold, because a moment later, she went stiff as she came, prompting my eruption all over her hands.
“You should,” she scolded, once she’d rested for a moment, and then untangled herself from me on the closet floor where we’d fallen after losing the battle to keep our hands to ourselves.
We were always fighting that battle.
I followed her back to the bathroom. She didn’t know I was watching, but I caught the little smile Monica gave herself in the mirror before she turned the faucet on to wash her hands. After the hell she’d been through, I was just happy to see her smile at all.
I almost couldn’t.
Nearly a month had passed now, since that altercation with her father’s wife in that morgue. She’d been shaken up about it for weeks – finally getting her answers hadn’t brought the peace she’d expected. Instead, she just felt unsettled, and the frenzied media scandal in the aftermath hadn’t helped.
Most of her month had been spent holed up here, with me, while Chloe fought the onslaught of people wanting to hear from Monica about her role in a scandal that rocked the beauty industry. People wanting to know how she felt about the fact that Glen Pearson had suffered a heart attack over the stress of the breaking news, especially once other mistresses, other children he’d fathered and abandoned, starting coming out of the woodwork. Monica never even got to speak to him, confront him, talk to him face to face.
But she wasn’t bothered by it, she claimed, and I believed her when she said it.
I already met him. Him and Kellen, those last two years at least… I believe they were one in the same.
She was coming out of it though. More and more, I was seeing her smile, especially now that the media had moved on to something else, and that new assistant of hers, Tarra, had been phenomenal at helping get Vivid Vixen back on track.
I hadn’t really expected her to move out though.
I mean… I knew it was only a matter of time before we’d have to discuss living arrangements, but I was still enjoying the hell out of having her under me at all times when she announced she was going back to her place. We hadn’t defined anything other than her status as “mine”, so there wasn’t much arguing I could do – not to mention that it was too soon to do any arguing about that anyway.
Plus, there was that whole, let it go, if it comes back it’s really yours thing, so… we would see. I was a patient enough man to let it ride, and do what made her happy, including overseeing the installation of the latest in home security systems, and doing the same on a corporate level for the Vivid Vixen offices – I was still pissed that Amanda had gotten past security with a gun.
“What is Kay going to say if we’re late? This is a big night for her,” Monica said as I stepped past her into the bathroom to clean myself up.
I raised an eyebrow. “She isn’t even going to notice. They do twenty minutes worth of special announcements and making sure the orchestra is right and all that bullshit before the show starts. We’ll be fine. Why are you being uptight?”
“I’m not being uptight,” she said, pulling the – apparently – super secure shower cap from her head, making way for her head full of natural curls to spill out. “I just… she wants this night to be perfect, and if we can help with that by being on time…”
That made me grin. “Awww. Look at you being a good future-stepmama,” I said, not considering the implication of those words before they spilled out. I found myself doing a lot of that shit with Monica, letting all my CIA training to do more listening than talking fly right out of the window.
Still though, there was no missing the… delight, in Monica’s eyes at my words – emotion that she quickly blinked away, always trying to play it cool. I didn’t mind it. She’d just left a relationship with a pure asshole, in a pretty ugly manner. She deserved to keep herself a bit reserved about her feelings if she wanted to.
“You know… I did her manicure for tonight, and uh… she hugged me, and it was… nice. It feels good that she’s accepted me so easily.”
I shrugged. “It helps that I apparently talked about you as Sandy constantly, and she was a fan of yours before all of the… drama. She doesn’t feel like you’re a stranger invading her life. And I say all that, but… Kay is notoriously mean to women I’ve dated in the past, no matter how casually. So it says a lot – means a lot – to me too, that she really likes you.”
“She said that?” Monica asked, her eyes lighting up before she could suppress it.
“Yes,” I laughed. “She did.”
Monica gave a deep nod, training her expression back to neutral. “Oh. Cool.”
I smacked her on the ass I left the bathroom to get myself dressed while Monica did her makeup and whatever else she needed to do. Thirty minutes later, she was dragging me out the door before I dragged her out of the black catsuit she’d donned underneath a white and black pinstriped blazer.
Her ass was begging me to, but the woman herself wasn’t having it.
“I’ll see you there,” she said, blowing me a kiss before she opened the door to her Mercedes. She’d insisted on separate vehicles because after Kay’s performance, she was going to dinner with her homegirls, and planned on going home after.
“Stay over tonight” was on the tip of my tongue, but I cooled it. After having her life in danger, being confined to the house, and everything else, she needed this. And damn if I was going to get in the way of it.
“Yeah, gorgeous,” I said, coming to close her door for her. “I’ll see you there.”
Damn… it’s getting pretty late.
Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I shook my head, telling myself to relax. What the hell was I doing checking the time every few minutes, clocking Monica like she wasn’t a grown ass woman with no curfew?
Who would have thought…
I sat back from my computer, and chuckled. Two months ago, I would’ve called anyone claiming that I was the type to be missing the woman who was supposed to be in my bed a lie. Hell, just the idea that supposed to be in my bed was something that would ever cross my mind, would’ve been met with derision. I swore that I wasn’t an “attachments” kind of guy.
But here I was, attached as fuck, wondering why Monica hadn’t checked in or something to let me know she’d made it home. I knew she was going to be out with her girls for a while, but it was coming up on one in the morning, and I’d never known her to hang that tough, even back when I knew her as Sandy.
I wasn’t worried about her though.
My gut still hadn’t led me wrong when it came to that. Even after Asher was arrested, something hadn’t felt right. Even after shooting Amanda, something hadn’t felt right. But with Miranda Cline gone, the inkling that something else was lurking just out of sight had gone away. Aside from the usual things to be on alert about, I was confident that Monica was safe, so it wasn’t that.
I just flat out missed her, even though I’d already seen her today.
And… I really didn’t give a fuck about it being plain as day.
When I met up with the guys after Kay’s performance, it must’ve been on my face when they asked, because I ended up getting thoroughly roasted. Especially by Quentin, who I’d talked to about Monica in the beginning of this ordeal. He remembered my attitude about it then, my belief that things between Monica and I could never be the same. And really… I was right. They couldn’t.
There was no turning back from here.
I was just getting ready to send her a text, when my computer pinged, alerting me of an incoming video call. I dropped my phone to my desktop when I saw that it was from Monica, who I’d set up with a more secure, direct access line to me. My mouth went dry as soon as I answered the call.
She was dressed in white – a simple, skimpy ass gown that her nipples showed right through. Her face was scrubbed clean of the makeup she’d worn earlier, hair tied up in a silky, leopard print scarf. And she looked damn good.
“What is this about?” I asked, grinning as I adjusted my camera so that my face was visible now too. It was damn near nostalgic, seeing her on my screen, in her office. A sight I’d seen hundreds of times before, only now, there was no element of anonymity, no need – or desire – to hide anything.
“I… can’t sleep,” she said, propping her elbow on the arm of her chair, and dropping her chin down to her closed fist. “You told me once that I could always call you when I couldn’t sleep, so that’s what I decided to do.”
“You could’ve just come to me, once you were done with your girls.”
She frowned a bit as she dipped her head. “I could’ve. But, I called myself being respectful, by not coming to your place smelling, and probably tasting, like alcohol. We may have had one or five drinks.”
The corners of my lips turned up. “I… appreciate that,” I told her. “Thank you for considering me.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“I’d still rather have you here though. Sobriety be damned.”
She laughed. “Uh, no. But, I will be liquor free for you to have me all day tomorrow.”
“I guess that’ll do,” I said, making her laugh again. “If that’s the case though, I probably need to get some sleep too.”
“What are you doing up anyway?” she asked.
“Working, since Renata reminded me that I do still have a business to run, even though were fine during my absence. And, of course… waiting to hear from you. I’m glad you called. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep either. Hell… I still may not.”
Monica shook her head. “Uh-uh. I have a cure for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
A mischievous grin spread across her face as she reached down, and I heard the sliding sound of her desk drawer. She winked at the camera when she came up again, holding a small bottle of my Creed cologne.
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head as she sprayed it in the air, then inhaled. “No fair. You know I never did replace your perfume?”
She smiled. “Check your bottom drawer.”
I narrowed my eyes as I reached for it, to pull it open. And sure enough, a brand new bottle of her signature Tom Ford perfume was there, just begging to be sprayed. I was already hard from seeing her, but I got harder just thinking about it.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked, pulling my attention back to the screen.
“Goddamn,” I groaned. While I’d been looking in the drawer, she’d been hiking her legs over the arms of her office chair, spreading herself wide open for me to see.
“Wick,” she said, in that sexy, husky voice, looking sinfully angelic in that gown as her hands moved to grope her breasts, showcasing her deep red nails. “Show me yours. And then tell me what you want me to do.”
My dick was already straining against my boxers and sweat pants, so I did as she asked, and set it free. I wrapped my hand around it, and then sat back, admiring the perfection of the woman on my screen.
“Get some of that sweetness on your fingers so you can play with it for me.”
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