Smith

 

 

The top of the world.

To most of the people in Manhattan it means the observation deck of the Empire State Building or the city-wide views at the top of Rockefeller Center. That's not what it means to Brynn and me.

"I can't believe you still have the key." I turn my head back toward the street. The financial district quiets only marginally after the closing bell of the day. Pedestrians still crowd the sidewalks and traffic streams by at a steady pace. I've kept my head low since we exited the car that brought us here. I don't want to be recognized now. Even though the sun has set, women still seek eye contact when I pass them. I admit I do the same if I'm looking for a brief connection in the seas of faces in this city.

"The key is our ticket to the roof." She jerks her thumb in the direction of the lobby. "I'll try and talk our way into the elevator, unless…"

She perks one of those dark brows in a silent question. I respond with a wiggle of both of my own. "This is going to be a walk in the park."

She laughs. This time it's genuine and fuck me, if it doesn't make her face light up. "The guards here aren't going to fall victim to your charm, Smith."

"I'll bet you I can get us into the elevator within three minutes flat."

Her gaze darts beyond the wall of glass and the manned security station near the bank of elevators. It's an office tower by day and at one time, the roof was home to one of the most exclusive bars in the city. "It’s a bet. What do I get if I win?"

My cock has its own answer to that question. My mind and mouth go with a tamer response. "I'll buy you dinner tomorrow night."

"Is this one of those bets where the wager is the same on both sides?" Her lips twist wryly. "Are you going to tell me that if you win, you'll buy me dinner tomorrow night?"

It doesn't take a goddamn genius to realize I want to have dinner with this woman. I want to fuck her more than I want a meal, but I'm not about to mess up this moment by adding unrestricted access to my dick to the pot. That's a caveat that I'll offer her the moment she eats the last bite of her dessert tomorrow.

I still want her to clue me in on what I did to her. She left that conversation back at the pub and being the selfish asshole that I am, I haven't brought it up again. I stayed silent during the car ride here because I don't want to tarnish this adventure with a replay of whatever the hell it was that I did to hurt her.

I'll get to the bottom of it at some point. I need to, but right now I'm going to savor this for what it is; a chance for me to spend a few minutes with her where she doesn’t look like she wishes I'd fall off the face of the earth.

"I can't fool you, Petal," I say on an exhale. "We have a lot to catch up on. I want to buy you dinner."

"I want something else."

So do I. I want you in my lap while I suck on your nipples and slide your wet pussy along my shaft until you're begging me to fuck you raw.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice hoarse, sweat blooming on my skin from the mental image of her naked and ready for me.

She takes in a deep breath, pausing to look at the guard. There's no doubt in her mind that he's no match for me. She watched me talk the owner of Easton Pub out of calling the police when she refused to leave the bar after being busted with a fake ID. I convinced the man to let her walk out with a warning, even though he swore up and down that he was going to make an example out of her.

"If I win, you have to cook dinner for me tomorrow night at your place."

Brynn inside my apartment is a win for me. "You've got yourself a deal. Are you going to cook dinner for me tomorrow if I win?"

"The answer to that is no," she drawls through a small grin. "If you win I'll bring take-out from that burger place in Times Square you used to like."

How the fuck does she remember that I practically lived on those greasy burgers when I was a teenager? 

"You'll bring me a cheeseburger, fries and a vanilla shake?" I ask pushing my luck. The elephant in the room is still squarely on my shoulders. Brynn wants to hate me, but her resolve is weakening. The offer for my favorite meal from a decade ago is proof positive of that. "You'll bring it to my place?"

"Deal." She holds out her delicate hand.

I shake it. Regardless of how this plays out with the security guard, Petal is going to be in my apartment tomorrow night. That's a win-win any way I look at it.

 

***

 

The key to the door that leads to the rooftop space is on a long silver chain that she tugs out of a zippered compartment in her clutch. It's not the only thing in there. I hear the distinctive sound of metal rubbing against metal as she draws the chain from her purse.

"So he didn't know who you were?" She asks me for the second time since she waltzed up behind me in the lobby and pulled some random dude's name out of a hat that she handed to the guard with a breezy smile and a wink. He waved us toward the elevator immediately even though I'd spent at least five minutes trying to convince him that I was the guy he sees every morning when he drags his ass out of bed to get his two kids ready for summer day camp.

"Rub it in again, Brynn." I stand right behind her as she places the key in the lock. "What name did you drop to get us in the building?"

"Crew Benton." She looks back and up at my face. "My friend Adley knows him. When I brought her up here a couple of months ago, she told me that he co-owns the building with his brother."

"You didn't think it might be worthwhile to mention that before I tried to charm the guard?"

She pivots, so she's facing me now, a smile playing on her lips. "And miss that show you put on in the lobby? Not a chance, Smith."

I clear my throat, my hands clenching into fists at my sides to deter the overwhelming urge I feel to reach out and pull her to me so I can kiss her again. "You won the bet fair and square so I'll be your personal chef tomorrow night."

"I'll text you a list of my food preferences."

I can't tell if she's joking or not. "I only cook one thing, Petal. It's spaghetti Bolognese or nothing."

"That's on my list of things I eat." She dangles the chain in her fingers. "Are you ready to see what the old Vernalt Social Club looks like now?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be." I take a step closer to her as she turns back around and slides the key in the lock.

I worked on this rooftop deck when I was in college. When the owner was around, I was busy bussing tables. The rest of the time, I was behind the bar opening beer bottles, washing glasses and downing a finger of the good bourbon whenever I got the chance.

I brought Brynn up here late one night when the world felt too heavy for her. I'd found her on the curb outside her parents' apartment, her face in her hands, her shoulders swaying with the force of her sobs.

I didn't ask her what was tearing her up inside. Instead, I waved down a cab, got her into the back seat and used the key my boss gave me to sneak her up here for her first sip of beer.

She told me that night that she felt as though she was at the top of the world looking down at a city full of hope. It was months later, after the bar shut down and I was on the cusp of graduating college that I found out what had happened. She'd been passed over for a summer internship at the company she desperately wanted to work for.

It was Bishop and Associates, her father's real estate firm. Fulton Bishop never saw the promise in his daughter that was always there. It still pisses me the hell off.

I left the key in an envelope addressed to her, on the kitchen counter in her parents' apartment the day before I graduated. I had no idea if it still opened the lock to our private rooftop retreat but it didn't matter. It was a token symbol of how the world was hers for the taking.

She didn't need her dad to succeed. I'm glad she sees that now.

"Follow me," she whispers with a crook of her index finger as she pushes open the door. "I think you're going to like what you see."

I already do. I'm staring at the most beautiful woman in the world and I'm seeing flashes of forgiveness in her eyes.