Chapter Eighteen
Ava
I'm nervous.
I ease my car into a parking spot and crane my neck to look up.
Even from where I’m parked a few blocks away, the enormous silver tower that I’m almost positive is Barrett’s building stands taller than everything else around it.
Part of me still can't believe I'm actually doing this. The three-hour drive passed by quickly with an audiobook about the Nepalese people of Katmandu. But now I’m here, and the anxiety of highway driving in a large city like Chicago subsides to make room for a new kind of nervous, a Barrett kind of nervous.
Suddenly, the trip out seems a lot less scary than telling him that I’m here. I fumble for my phone, reminding myself that he is the one who invited me. He wants me here. He wants to see me. Just call him already. My fingers tremble, but I manage to press his name on my phone. Not even half a ring later, he picks up.
“Hello?”
I haven’t heard his voice since he invited me a couple of days ago, and just one “hello” is all it takes for my cheeks to heat up and my toes to curl. Keep your cool, Ava.
“Hey, I’m here,” I say, trying to even my breath behind my shaking voice.
“Great, I’ll come get you. Where are you parked?”
I list off a few of the names of the shops I’m parked by.
“Be out in a sec.”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach. It still doesn’t feel real that I’m about to see him again. And this time there will be no meddling parents—or my brother—in our way. The reality of it doesn’t completely hit me until I spot him across the street. I could recognize that sculpted frame from a mile away, his black jacket zipped tight so that the fabric stretches across his broad shoulders. He’s wearing a fitted pair of dark wash jeans cuffed just above a pair of dark brown boots, the same color as his hair, which is somehow untouched by the reckless Chicago wind. My heart clenches in my chest. I knew I missed him, I just didn’t realize how much.
When I step out of the car, Barrett shoots me a smile that lights up his entire face and makes my knees weak.
“You made it,” he says, pulling me in for a quick hug, which is all we can safely manage before the oncoming traffic starts laying on the horn. “Come on, let’s get out of the cold.” He takes one of my gloved hands in his and leads me down the block to his building, which seems even bigger up close.
“After you,” he says, gesturing toward the revolving doors, which officially make this apartment building fancier than a lot of hotels I’ve stayed in. The foyer of the building reflects that sentiment with its leather couches and marble floors.
I had assumed his place would be nice, but nothing I dreamt up during my three-hour drive quite lived up to this. An apartment with a front desk attendant? I didn’t even know that existed. Between this fancy apartment and his plush job at the law firm, why would he ever leave Chicago? A lump forms in my throat at the thought, but I force it down. No time to deal with the distance thing right now.
“Have you been doing alright?” he asks, leading me into an elevator. “When I talked to your mom, she couldn’t stop talking about how worried she is about you. Said you’re working yourself to the bone at the factory.”
I roll my eyes. Of course, Mom talked to him about the factory.
“She sounded so worked up about it. I figured I’d better get you out of the house and away from work for a bit. Maybe it’ll do both you and your mom some good.”
“So, you invited me here because of my mother? That's hot.”
He laughs.
I try not to sound too defeated, but I could hear the disappointment in my voice. Why had I bothered wearing my sexiest underthings if this was nothing more than a favor for my mom?
The elevator dings and the doors part to reveal a navy blue carpeted hallway gently lit with a warm yellow glow. I follow Barrett to the third apartment door on the left, which he swiftly unlocks.
“Come inside,” he says as I cross through the door, but I hardly have the time to give the place a once over before he closes the door and takes my jaw in his large hands, pulling me into a fiery hot kiss. Maybe my sexy panties weren’t such a bad idea after all.
I part my lips to welcome his tongue, which strokes and twirls around mine. The fact that I went even a week without this is unbelievable. Barrett weaves one hand through my hair while the other latches onto the wool coat I dug out of the garage, keeping me locked tight against his chest. He softly tugs my lower lip with his teeth, releasing me just enough that I can catch half a breath.
“Does that feel like your mother has anything to do with this?”
My smirk matches his. “I guess not,” I whisper.
“You guess?” he says, one eyebrow cocked. “Well then, let’s take the guesswork out of it.”
Barrett presses me against the door, kissing me again and again, each kiss more demanding than the last. Our hands work in a frenzy, shedding layers, leaving behind a trail of boots, coats, gloves, scarves, all tumbling onto his apartment floor. He takes a step back to admire me, dressed casually in a pair of skinny jeans and a fitted, long-sleeved t-shirt. His large hands span my waist, his thumbs pressed to my hips. My body is already tingling.
“I don't want to rush this. We need a time out. Come here.” Taking my hand, he tugs me into the living room where we sit down on the couch.
His place is nice, it's small but cozy with a gray couch and matching ottoman, a rustic wood dining table piled with work papers and his laptop. There are framed photos lining the bookshelf across the room, mostly shots of him and Nick, or other groups of guys doing various outdoor sports. None of a woman, other than his mother, which I think is a good thing.
“A time out?” I ask, raising one brow.
“I just think we should talk. We jumped into this, and…. What?” He's smiling.
I realize my brows are scrunched together, and I'm giving him a confused look. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to guys who want to talk. Please continue.”
He takes my hand, and laces our fingers together. “I'm not a guy, Ava. I'm a man. A man who is very, very interested in taking you to bed, but I happen to think consent is sexy as fuck.”
I swallow and wait for him to continue while my belly tenses with butterflies yet again.
“So, you're going to be the one calling the shots here,” he says meeting my eyes with a serious expression. “I know how much I'm risking by having you here, and I've come to terms with that. But you're risking something, too, and I need to know you're okay with that.”
He's afraid he's going to hurt me, that this is all going to end in disaster.
I'm struck by a flurry of emotions all at once. Suddenly I know that once this forbidden fling ends, I won't bounce back like I usually do after a breakup—by eating double-stuffed cookies and writing in my journal. No, this is something altogether different.
I haven't wanted to admit it, but something much bigger than I ever expected is happening between us, but before I can ponder it further, Barrett leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
“Say something, Ava. I'm a big boy, whatever it is, I can handle it.”
I draw a deep breath, fighting to unscramble my thoughts and focus on the man in front of me. The man who wants me. “If you think for one second I'm walking away from this…”
I don't even finish the sentence before his lips crash down on mine.
He kisses me like I've never been kissed before, sucking on my tongue, nipping at my lower lip. I push my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, my tongue twisting with his.
“Tell me,” he manages.
Another kiss interrupts him.
“What you...”
His mouth hovers over mine.
“Want.”
Barrett pulls back, looking at me.
There is so much fire in that crystal clear blue gaze that it momentarily renders me speechless.
“You.” Is all I manage before he hoists me up from the couch. We only make it so far as the hallway before he sets me down and pins me against the wall. I'm just as crazed with want. I push my hands under his shirt, touching his chest, his abs, any patch of bare skin I can get my hands on.
He wastes no time peeling off my shirt until I'm standing before him in a lacy bra and just my jeans.
“Jesus, Ava.”
My heart is hammering out of my chest, and the hungry look in his eyes makes me feel oddly emotional. “What?”
“You're so damn sexy.”
I've never been described as sexy in my entire life, but he makes me feel like I am. Then he's unbuttoning my jeans, and I can feel myself tighten a bit as he grazes the precious space between my thighs. Once he’s stripped me down to his liking, he grips my ass with sturdy hands, his touch becoming reacquainted with my curves.
If he notices that I deliberately took the time to match my bra to my panties, he certainly doesn’t stop to comment. His mouth is a little occupied working its way down my neck, decorating my skin with little pink circles on his journey down to my breasts. Good God, are we going to do this right here in the hallway? With this whole apartment at our disposal?
Before I can contemplate that further, he lifts me up by my ass and hoists me up onto him. I can’t help but giggle the tiniest bit as I lace my legs around his waist. I hold tight to his shirt, using it as an excuse to feel his sculpted pecs through the thin material as he carries me to the kitchen, his mouth still devouring mine.
He lowers me onto the granite countertop, then pulls back to meet my eyes. Using the pads of his fingers, he strokes my cheek so gently, so softly as he gazes down at me.
“You are so beautiful. I'm glad you came.”
Of course, I came but it'd be too much to admit that I missed him. Too intimate. So instead I pull him in for another kiss.
His hands slip down to my waist, and he holds me close as our tongues twirl and glide together.
When I'm breathless, he pulls back again, meeting my eyes. “I'm sorry I just left the hotel. You were asleep, and…it just seemed like the best way.”
I nod. “A clean break. I get it. Except…”
His mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin. “I needed another taste.”
Our lips crash together again, but I sense the time for talking is done, because this time, his fingers trace circles over my skin, caressing and stroking me from my shoulders to my arms to my lower back. And then his lips are on my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone, moving lower until his hands are cupping my breasts and his mouth is leaving damp kisses along my cleavage.
When I reach back to unclasp my bra, he pauses, waiting in anticipation as I peel the lace away from my skin and let it drop to the tile floor.
His gaze is almost worshipful as he takes in the sight of my bare breasts—barely a B cup, but so high and perky I really don't even need a bra.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “These are fucking amazing.” His thumb grazes the tip of one breast and I barely hold in a shudder.
Every time we're together it's as if he has all the time in the world to tease and toy with my body. The slow touches, the drawn-out foreplay, the laser focus on my orgasm. Meanwhile, I feel like I'll die if I don't feel him inside me in the next four seconds.
I reach in between us and palm the erection I can feel through his jeans.
“Oh fuck, please,” I whimper as he hooks his fingers inside my panties, stroking me lightly with the backs of his knuckles.
“Please what?” he breathes into my ear. His voice is hot, sinful, and dripping with pure sex.
I meet his gaze, blinking at him, innocently. “Please fuck me with that big cock of yours, Barrett.”
He releases a groan of approval. I guess he likes my dirty talk.
And it's all the invitation he needs. A quick tug on his boxer briefs and his erection springs free. Glad to see he's just as excited to see me as I am to see him. His briefs fall to the floor and he begins rubbing the head of his erection against my opening. Yes, yes, yes. My toes curl at how very right this feels. God, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how big he is.
“Fuck.” He pulls away.
“What's wrong?” I look up at him, suddenly confused.
“I need to go grab a condom. Don't move.”
I wrap my hands around his waist, not letting him move. “Do we need one?” I'm on birth control, and there's no one I trust more than Barrett.
His eyes meet mine. “Never done that before.”
“Ever?” I blink at him.
He shakes his head, and I can see that he's telling me the truth. Which is crazy, he's thirty years old.
“Well, I'm on the pill, and I've only been with two men, and I've been tested, and I haven't slept with anyone in over a year.” Oh my God, why am I babbling? I place my hand on his cheek and meet his eyes. “I'm good if you are.”
For a moment, I'm not sure what he's thinking, and then he presses a tender kiss to my lips. “Just that you'd trust me with this is…” He gives me another kiss. “Yes.”
Taking a firm hold of my hips, he pulls me to the edge of the counter and parts my thighs as wide as they will go. I’m perfectly positioned to take all of him, and I have a feeling that’s exactly what he’s going to give me.
One smooth, very slow thrust, and my eyes dart up to his. The look of focus on his face is almost breathtaking. He's biting into his lower lip, his eyes half-lidded in concentration.
Barrett slides in farther, and I yelp a little.
He pulls back immediately, a concerned look flashing across his handsome features. “Fuck.” He cups my cheek with his large palm, his regret instant. “I'm so, so sorry. Are you okay?”
“It's okay.” I nod. “Just maybe go a little slower.”
His eyebrows are still scrunched together when he leans down and presses a tender kiss to my mouth. “I can’t seem to control myself around you. I'll be careful, okay?”
I nod again, smiling at him so he knows it really is okay.
He starts again, setting a slower pace, and dear God, this man must have the patience of a saint because after several minutes of this slow-tempo lovemaking, I'm ready to burst.
He’s so much to take, but it feels like heaven. I rock my hips to match his thrusts, letting him push deeper and deeper into me.
“You ready for more?” he asks, his eyes falling down to where our bodies are joined. My gaze follows and holy hell, the sight is so erotic. His manhood is painted in my arousal, and I can see he hasn't been giving me his whole length, just pushing into me until my toes curl, and then retreating.
Again, the patience of a saint.
“More,” I confirm on a groan, lacing my fingers behind his back and pulling him in deeper.
He obeys, his rhythm kicking up, and soon he's thrusting into me as far as he can go and I moan so loud I’m running the risk of neighbors calling in a noise complaint. Let them call, I don’t give a damn. This feels too good to stop.
I tuck my pelvis just right so that he slides up against my g-spot and all of me tightens and contracts. Shit, I thought the sex was amazing our first time; but this is on another level. Maybe it's just that every time with him gets better. With each of his thrusts, my body tenses and my breath escapes me, my heart thumping in double time.
“B-Barrett! God, yes, Barrett!” I pant as he pushes so deep into me that I finally unravel. With one last stutter of his name, I come while he is still pressed deep into me. He grunts as I contract and release around him, still rocking in and out of my pulsing heat.
Instead of giving me a second to catch my breath, he scoops my still-trembling frame off the counter and sets me on my feet, bent over the kitchen sink this time.
His lips are at the back of my neck. “Can you stand?”
I nod, and tentatively he moves his hands from my hips, making sure he can trust me. I grip the counter in front of me, and feel his erection brush against my ass.
Steadying himself with one hand locked to my shoulder, he presses into me from behind, hitting totally different parts of me. He groans and I contract around him again at the sound of him losing control. I push back a bit, rocking back onto his stiff length, which he gives another approving groan to.
I can feel his muscles tightening as he teeters on the edge of climax. With an arch of my back, he slides so deep into me that I can practically feel him behind my belly button. Using my body as though I weigh nothing at all, he pulls me back onto him again and again.
“Where should I come?” he asks.
“Inside me.”
I can hear his breath choke and he empties into me with a final trembling thrust. Once he eases out of me, I turn around to place a grateful kiss on his mouth. He gathers me up in his arms, pulling me close to his chest.
“Welcome to Chicago,” he whispers against my hair.
I smile and run my hand down the scruff on his cheek. If I go even a second without touching him I’m afraid I’ll snap out of whatever perfect dream I’m in and he’ll disappear. As long as I’m touching him, this has to be real.
He tilts up my chin with the tips of his fingers to press his mouth against mine. Unlike every kiss we have shared up until this moment, this kiss is delicate and sweet. This kiss doesn’t say “I want to bend you over on my coffee table,” although I know he does—and probably will later this evening. This kiss says, “I’m happy you’re here,” and when he pulls away, the gentleness of it sends a tingle down my spine.
“I’ve got you for two full days,” he says, playfully tucking my messy sex hair behind my ear. “And I promise to make it to the bedroom next time.”
A shudder vibrates through me. Being back with him has been so absolutely perfect already that I almost forgot that I only have him for two short days. Forty-eight hours in an incredible city with the grown-up version of my childhood boy crush, then I’ll be back on the road, pushed out of this dream state and back into reality, aka Indiana. And I’ll have three hours of driving to replay a weekend’s worth of memories before letting them go, leaving them somewhere in the snow on the side of the highway.
As unfair as it seems, I can’t bring any of it with me. This isn’t just some high school fantasy anymore. This is real life. And at the end of the day, I have to keep telling myself that Barrett’s life is here in Chicago, and mine is in a factory in the middle of nowhere. Some lives aren’t meant to line up, no matter how much I desperately wish they could.
This is why I was scared to start this in the first place. Why I wanted to cut things off when he went back to the city. Why I fled the car in a panic that night in my parents’ driveway—the first time things turned physical between us.
It’s because I knew from the very beginning that just a little would never be enough, that the second I got the slightest taste of Barrett, I would start falling in love.