Being honest isn’t on my to-do list. “Did last night mean anything to you?”
“I haven’t been laid in two weeks, so it meant the world,” he says with such conviction that I almost believe him.
“I think we understand each other more than you’re willing to admit.”
“That’s not exactly true, is it?” He pushes his chair back and stands. “I mean, you know why I’m here but I don’t know why you’re here.”
“You’re working.”
“See, you understand me.” He maneuvers around the edge of the desk and approaches me cautiously. “Now, open yourself up a little,” he speaks with his fingers aimed toward my legs. I can’t discern if it’s intentional sexual innuendo, or if he just needs to be more careful with his fingers.
“Fine,” I say exasperated. “Will you go on a date with me?”
“I don’t date students.”
“No, you just fuck them,” I yell about a millisecond before realizing we’re standing in the middle of his office during the morning rush.
He throws his arm past me and slams the door shut. “Someone could hear you,” he scolds me and pushes me lightly against the chair adjacent to his. I lose my footing and fall backward into it. “You don’t know me, Apple.”
“Isn’t that the point of going on a date?”
“I go on dates to fuck,” he says, bringing down the level of his voice and zeroing his focus in on me.
“Why are you the leader of an abstinence group? I’m only asking because it has come to my attention that you are, in fact, a sexual deviant.”
He shrugs and a smile crawls across his lips. “I get paid a stipend.”
“Is it really worth dealing with those losers every Sunday?”
“They’re not losers, Apple. They’re different. You should respect that.”
“I don’t have to respect shit.”
“You’re really selling yourself here.”
I throw my hands to the air on both sides of my head. “I am who I am,” I say with an uncaring shrug.
“Do you have plans this weekend?”
“Wait a damn minute,” I bark and jump to my feet, wagging a finger in his face. “You can’t turn around and ask me on a date when you still haven’t answered me.”
“Who said anything about a date?” He parks his sexy ass on the edge of the desk. “Again, what are you doing this weekend?”
“Sitting at home petting my cat, most likely.” I don’t have a cat, although I’m sure he would make a joke about my pussy if I did.
“How about I pick you up at noon Friday?”
“That depends where we’re going,”
“Don’t plan on being home all weekend.”
“You can’t just say that and not tell me where, or what we’re doing and expect me to say yes.” Lets be clear, I’m going to say yes if for no other reason than I have to. Still, I’d like to be prepared.
“Yes I can. I just did.” He’s the Goddamn devil, so sure of himself and so cocky. Not at all the guy I had him pegged to be. “Besides, I thought you liked living life in the fast lane.”
“Pick me up at noon, but I’m warning you right now.” I lean over his shoulder and whisper in his ear, “I’m bringing a gun.”
“So am I,” he says with a wink. The gun he’s referring to is his cock, by the way. Smooth guy, really.
14
Part one of my plan has been set in motion. I had ideas, but Jensen’s idea is better.
I jiggle my key into the lock but quickly realize it won’t be necessary. Either Lydia left the door unlocked again or Brick has stopped by for an impromptu visit. Both scenarios carry equal weight in the annoying department.
“You look like you had a long night,” Brick says from my throne before I’m even able to spot him.
I close the door behind me and toss my keys onto the table that’s closest.
“A long morning?” he asks, too impatient for a response.
“A little bit of both.” I walk past him and into the kitchen. His inquisitive shadow trails me as I reach into the refrigerator to grab moscato and orange juice.
“You’re killing me with the suspense.” He sounds like a child on Christmas morning.
“If you must know,” I say and turn to him, “we fucked in a car parked in front of a bar in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
“That’s fucking fantastic,” he says with a laugh and parks his ass on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Details right now.”
“His cock is huge,” I tease and grab two wine glasses from atop the fridge.
He shakes his head in disgust. “Not the part of the story I’m dying to hear.”
“Bigger than yours.” I chuckle to myself and begin the delicate process of perfecting the alcohol-to-orange juice ratio.
“Bitch, don’t play with me.”
“What is it with you calling women bitches all the time?”
“It’s a thing I do, now continue with the story.” He leans forward with venom in his eyes. “Was it everything you ever dreamed?”
“If you’re asking if I ripped his heart out, then I’m sad to report an overwhelming no.”
“You’re a damn fool.”
“Excuse me?” I take a sip and begrudgingly slide him a mimosa.
“You gave him the pussy when you were supposed to be stealing his heart.” He shrugs and cracks a knowing grin. “He won’t be back for seconds.”
“You’re like Nostradamus. You’re only right here and there, and right now, you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” I chug the remainder of my drink and wipe my lips clean. “If you must know, he’s taking me on a weekend trip somewhere.”
“For the whole weekend?” He runs a pointed finger along the rim of the glass. “He has an angle.”
“They always do, right?”
“Where are you going on this romantic retreat?”
I shrug.
“You don’t know?” He slides off the stool and smiles. “What do you want written on your casket?”
I think about it for a millisecond before I realize I already know the engraving I desire. “She who lies here dead played harder, and better, than her former lover.”
“Nobody will know what the fuck that means.” He shrugs. “Besides, it’s inherently dishonest.”
“You’re so sure of yourself.” I hook my finger and command him to follow as I exit the kitchen. “How is Tyra by the way?”
“We’re taking things slow.”
I turn to him as I hover above my throne. “She hasn’t given you the time of day.”
“Give me time.”
“You’re running out of time. “ I take a measured step toward him and dance my fingers vertically along his chest. “Tick tock. Tick tock. You’ll be sucking your own cock.”
“Speaking of self fellatio, I’ll have you know that yoga is doing wonders on my flexibility.”
“You’re disgusting.” I fall back into my throne and cross my legs.
“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t lick your own clit if you could.”
“Speaking of clits, have you thought about Cece?”
“I did a little research.” He takes a seat on the couch across from me and kicks his feet out onto the glass coffee table. “You were right. She’s fucking perfect.” He draws a finger to the stubble growing along his cheek and scratches it. “Still, I can’t figure out what your angle is.”
“Who says I have an angle?”
“Because you’re a wicked bitch.” He smiles wickedly. “Oops, there’s that word again.”
“You’re such a dick.” I reach under my arm, grab a pillow, and throw it his direction. He catches it before it can knock him in his pretty face. “But, you’re a right dick. I do have an angle.”
“Enlighten me then, but make it quick. I have a massage scheduled within the hour.” He checks his watch and nods. “Forty-five minutes, actually. And it’s on the other side of town.”
“Raphael—Rafe—Darceny. He’s an absolute stud and Cece is obsessed with him.”