Paige
IT’S BEEN THREE days since I had my biopsy done. I was hoping to have my results back before the weekend, knowing it was a long shot. Now that it’s Saturday, I know I won’t get a call until Monday at the earliest, and the wait is killing me. Fortunately, Sean has been doing a good job of keeping my mind off of things even if he doesn’t know it. I didn’t realize how often we hang out until I was depending on it for my sanity, but we’ve become glued at the hip in a short period of time. We see each other after work and usually eat dinner. Half the time one of us ends up crashing at the other’s place, and we always make plans for the weekend.
I also didn’t realize how much we have sex until I couldn’t. I was afraid I’d have to tell him the truth, but lied and said I was on my period instead. A knot sat in my stomach as the lie left my lips. The guilt has gotten heavier and heavier to carry as I continue to deceive him, but I’m not ready to tell him. I’m not ready to tell anyone until I know for sure what’s going on with my body.
“Shit,” I say under my breath. I rush around, grabbing my keys and purse before heading out the door. I fell asleep and was supposed to be at Sean’s house ten minutes ago. I’m almost in my car when my phone dings.
Sean: Are you in a ditch somewhere?
I roll my eyes and shake my head.
Me: I’m leaving now. Sorry.
Sean: Me waiting on you.
Below his message is a picture of a skeleton sitting on a bench.
Me: Shut it. I’m not always late!
Sean: Says the person who’s about to eat a cold dinner.
Me: I fell asleep.
Sean: Good because you won’t be doing much sleeping over here tonight.
My core tightens because I know that’s not a threat but a promise. Sean is a thorough lover if nothing else. He makes sure I am completely satisfied before tending to his own needs. Most nights, I can hardly roll out of bed by the time he’s done with me.
Me: Quit texting me and I could get there faster!
That shuts him up and I head his way. Fifteen minutes later, I’m knocking on his door.
“Look who decided to show up,” he greets. I nudge him in the stomach with my elbow as I walk past him and into his house. “You forget something?” he asks.
With my head tilted to the side, I spin around to face him. “No?”
He arches his brow and crooks his finger at me. Hiding my amusement, I comply and walk closer to him. When I’m within reach, his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against his solid frame before leaning down for a kiss. It’s a deep, passionate kiss, one usually reserved for when things are really heating up between us. One I feel all the way to the tips of my toes and deep in my soul. By the time he pulls back, I’m weak in the knees and see stars.
“Coming in here thinking you don’t have to kiss me,” he says quietly against my lips.
“Sorry, I forgot,” I play along, looking up at him through my eyelashes.
“Think you’ll forget again?” He pulls me tighter and I can feel his erection against my stomach.
After a kiss like that? Hell no. But I don’t say that out loud. The last thing this man needs is an ego boost, so I merely shake my head and wait for him to release me.
Clearing my throat, I enter the kitchen and am assaulted by a mixture of delicious smells. “Mmmm, smells good. Let me guess, your housekeeper?” I fight back a grin, but lose. He hates when I bring up the fact that he has a maid, which means I’m going to do it more.
A large yelp escapes me when he delivers a swift smack to my butt. “No, smartass. I cooked for you tonight.”
You know moments that make you say, “awww”? This is one of them. The table is set beautifully with perfectly placed dishes, silverware, and glassware. Two tapered candles are lit in the middle, creating a romantic ambiance.
“Wow, this is nice.” We normally order in or eat out, so seeing him put so much effort into tonight’s meal is impressive. It makes me feel . . . special.
“Have a seat and I’ll get our plates ready.” He helps me into my chair before going back to the kitchen.
I watch him intently, fascinated by each movement as he sets about his task. Sean has always been sexy, but add in the towel thrown over his shoulder and the small crease between his brows as he concentrates, he’s mouthwatering.
“Bon appétit.” He sets my plate down in front of me and my mouth waters for a whole different reason.
When I take the first bite of the potatoes, an involuntary moan escapes, causing Sean to chuckle. “What did you put in these?” I ask around a mouthful. I could eat these until I’m sick. It’s the perfect blend of garlic and butter and yummy goodness.
“Just a little TLC.” He winks and takes another bite and all I can do is smile at his boyish charm right now.
We’re both quiet, enjoying our meal when he asks, “What happens to a frog’s car when it breaks down?”
I shake my head and pretend to be less than amused, but the truth is I look forward to his corny jokes. “What?”
“It gets toad away.” I stare at him, pretending to be unaffected. “Don’t smile,” he says as he points his finger. “Don’t you smile.”
I press my lips together, but my grin breaks free anyway. “I don’t know why these get to me. They’re not even that funny,” I tell him through light laughter.
He dusts off his shoulder. “It’s all in the delivery, baby.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” My sarcasm isn’t missed. I push the food around my plate before asking him something that’s been on my mind a little lately. “Have you heard anything from David since he was fired?”
Sean’s jaw ticks and a small fire blazes within his eyes. I know it’s not directed at me, but it’s intimidating all the same. “Has he contacted you?”
I shake my head. “No, but I’m wondering if he’ll randomly show up and cause problems one day.”
“He won’t.” His stern tone and the finality of it has me shying away from asking more questions.
I take a few more bites of my food before putting my fork down and looking at Sean. He won’t meet my eyes, and that alone makes me suspicious. “How do you know?”
He wipes his mouth with a napkin before setting it on his plate. “I made sure of it.”
His evasiveness is starting to annoy me. I arch my eyebrow. “How?” I ask again, my tone firmer.
“I gave him some money.” His nonchalance only irks me more.
“How much did you pay him?” My eyes must be as wide as saucers as I stare at him in disbelief.
“Enough.” I open my mouth to complain about his vagueness but he holds his hand up. “It’s not a big deal, Paige. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. I don’t trust David so I made sure he wouldn’t be around again.”
“What’s stopping him from showing up anyway?” It’s not like the money is an impenetrable shield keeping him away.
“He signed a contract. In exchange for the money, he would cease and desist from engaging in any contact with any persons working for Bank of the States and Paige Stewart. I think that’s how my attorney worded it.”
I’m actually speechless. If he won’t tell me how much he gave him, it must be a substantial amount. The fact that he doesn’t even bat an eye about it is astonishing.
“Look, I don’t give a shit about money. You are what matters most to me. I saw a problem, so I solved it. Don’t get stuck in your head and freak out about this, okay?” He glances down at my empty plate. “Are you finished?” I nod and he stands before grabbing both of our plates. “I’ll throw these in the dishwasher real quick then we can go snuggle on the couch.” A small smile touches his lips and I know he wants desperately to drop this.
“Okay.” A few minutes later, we’re lying with my back to his front, his arms wrapped around me. The thing I like most about our relationship is neither one of us feels the need to fill the silence, but he’s been off since we finished eating. His usual calm demeanor is tainted with tension. He’s somewhat distant like he has something on his mind. Of course, I’m one to talk. But now I feel like an ass for souring our pleasant evening.
“So,” he says.
“So,” I mimic as I roll my body to look at him.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” I say, hiding my grin in his chest.
“Keep it up and I’ll be forced to kiss the shit out of you so you can’t be a smartass anymore,” he warns.
“If that threat is meant to deter me, you’re going to have to rethink your strategy.”
“Move in with me.”
I freeze, my eyes widening in surprise. My mouth opens and closes trying to respond, but nothing comes out.
“That got you to be quiet, didn’t it?” His smug expression would normally garner some sort of retort to knock him down a few pegs, but I’ve got nothing.
Is he serious, or did he say this to shut me up?
“Ar-are you serious?” I ask when he keeps looking at me expectantly.
“I wouldn’t joke about something like this.” I wish we were in that dark restaurant so I could hide from his penetrating gaze. There’s nowhere to hide, no sarcastic comment to shield me as he waits for an answer.
“This is . . . unexpected. You just kind of threw it out there.” My mind is racing as I process what he just asked me. I just got used to the idea of being in a relationship, and now he wants us to live together?
“You know I’ve never been one to beat around the bush. I want it, I go after it.” Sean is rarely this serious. Our connection is built on bad pickup lines, silly jokes, and smartass comments. But as I look into his blue eyes, it’s as if the weight of the world depends on the words that will come out of my mouth.
“We’ve only been together for about two months. Don’t you think we’re rushing this?” I ask gently.
“Is there a book I don’t know about? A dating how-to that dictates when it’s okay to move in with your girlfriend?” He’s been a very patient man, chasing after me way longer than anyone would have, but I sense his irritation. “We didn’t just meet, Paige. We’ve known each other for over two years. In which time you’ve shown me what a pain in the ass you can truly be, and I’ve shown you how fucking awesome I am.”
I throw my head back and laugh, thankful for the levity he’s providing while I’m internally freaking out.
“Look, I know you better than you think. You have a cool exterior, giving very little away, but on the inside you’re panicking. You’re going through all the reasons we shouldn’t, but you’re not focusing on the one reason we should,” he tells me.
“And what’s that?” I ask barely above a whisper.
“We’re meant for each other.”
Five small words hit me square in the chest and steal my breath away. I’ve had this thought a few times over the last couple months, but hearing him say it out loud brings on emotions I didn’t know I had.
“But what about my condo?” I ask, holding on to the last of my reservations.
“Sell it.” He makes it sound so simple, but it’s not.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” he asks immediately.
Because I’ll be homeless if you break up with me.
Pushing me off his chest, he turns to face me and grabs my hands. “You need to stop waiting on us to fail. We’re solid, gorgeous. Trust in that. Trust in us.”
I search his face for any indication that I should say no, but can’t find one. He’s nothing but sincere and genuine, leaving me with only one answer. “Okay.”
His eyes widen before a slow smile stretches across his handsome face. I think I shocked him with my answer as much as he shocked me with his question. He’s on me in an instant, cupping my face and kissing me over and over.
“I thought I was going to have to do more convincing,” he says before kissing me again.
I let out a small giggle. “And how were you going to do that?”
“I’d have to show you.” His tone becomes deep and husky.
“By all means,” I taunt.
Slowly, he leans in, finding the spot behind my ear that drives me wild. My breath hitches as his tongue darts out and traces a light, torturous pattern down the side of my neck. As his mouth travels down my body, his hands move up, starting at my legs and stopping at the apex of my thighs. He circles around my throbbing center, reducing me to begging.
“Please, Sean.”
“Remember: delayed gratification.”
He kisses the retort right out of me as his hands palm my breasts. I arch my back and writhe unabashedly, needing more.
My hands go to his shirt and pull it over his head before feeling his smooth skin. Each ripple and crevice stands out like a blind man to braille as my fingers move south. When they dip below his waistband, it’s his turn to let out a frustrated grunt.
“Delayed gratification,” I tease.
He pauses, staring at me before lifting me up in one scoop. I think we’re headed toward his bedroom but we stop short in the hallway.
“Turn around,” he instructs. When I do, he pulls my pants and panties off in one tug before I step out of them. The cool air hits my exposed center as he pushes my torso toward the wall so that my ass sticks out.
I hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper going down, but I don’t dare look. The anticipation is half the fun. Unexpectedly, his hand lands on my left cheek, sending a zap of pain and pleasure coursing through my body. My core clenches once again, desperate for friction.
I’m soon rewarded when I feel the head of his cock move against my entrance. He toys with me, sliding it back and forth until I’m panting. It’s only then he sinks home, damn near bringing me to my knees. With his arm around my stomach, he pulls me close as he sets the pace.
“God, you feel so good,” he says into my ear. Turning my head to the side, I seek his lips. When they touch, I feel the connection in every way. It’s primal and passionate, but also tender and sweet.
He pulls out of me and a complaint is sitting on the edge of my tongue when he turns me around to face him. Hiking my right leg up his side, he enters me again, never breaking eye contact. This time is slower, more sensual, and it’s the most intimate moment of my life. With our eyes trained on the other’s, we’re bared body and soul. I’m giving my whole self to him and he’s doing the same.
I love you.
It flashes unexpectedly in my mind and I have to grind my jaw to keep it from spilling out. But I soon relax as I realize while we may not say the words out loud, we’re communicating it clearly through our bodies. This should freak me out, but it does the opposite. I can finally breathe, let go, and lower my guard.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him to me. My tongue finds his in an expression of two souls destined for each other. Because right here and now, I believe him one hundred percent.
We’re meant for each other.