She mulled over the question. She’d been trying to steer clear of temptation, locking her phone in a kitchen drawer in the evenings when she felt the desire to text him or call, going for a run in the mornings to try to clear her mind. But neither tactic kept him from occupying the prime corner lot in her brain. She’d been dreaming of him every night. The very mention of his name brought a flush to her skin, and heat between her legs. It had been a while; she hadn’t even touched herself since she’d left. If she did, she’d only picture him and that wouldn’t help put him out of her mind.
Maybe, just maybe, a brief email for her sister would satiate this longing inside her, and quench her thirst for him. Sort of like a phased withdrawal. One tiny taste and then she’d be done.
“I’ll take care of it for you,” she said, and something inside of her dared to spark. At least she had a reason to reach out to him, and she tried not to get too excited about the prospect of sending him a note, but she couldn’t help it – she was excited. “Now, can we talk about something besides business please? Like your wedding. That’s what I most want to talk about. I can barely wait another month to see my big sister walking down the aisle.”
The two of them beamed, Chris and McKenna matching each other in sheer wattage of their smiles. He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek, and she threw her arms around his neck, and Julia was happy for the way her sister could be free with the man she cared for.
“So we’re going to have karaoke as you know,” McKenna said and began rattling off all the details, and though Julia knew most of them already since she was maid of honor, she didn’t mind hearing them again. Her sister’s happiness brought a smile to her face, so she listened as McKenna updated her on all their wedding plans, and she too was counting down the days til the two of them got hitched.
Later that night, as the crowds wound down she reached for her phone to call him when she saw Clay had texted her. Her eyes widened, lighting up with anticipation. With hopeful fingers, she slid open the message.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Her heart thrummed hard against her chest as she savored the words, each one like decadent chocolate. She clutched the phone to her chest, as if that simple act would bring him closer. She walked into the back room, needing a moment alone with his text. She closed the door behind her, leaned against it and stared like a lovestruck idiot at the screen again, running her fingertip across his message.
She cycled through her options. She could pretend she never saw it. She could delete it. She could keep on ignoring him. But the very thought of that felt like thorns twisting in her gut. She’d been in a funk since she’d left New York. A real ball of piss. She’d slept badly, she’d been sullen when she went for her morning run, and she could barely focus on the book she’d been reading at bedtime. Her thoughts careened back to him. A reply might unwind some of the tension knitting its way through her body.
Though she knew the risks, she became convinced with each passing second that answering his message wasn’t dangerous. It was simply answering a message. Sometimes a cigar was just a cigar.
The very least she could do was write back.
Would love to know what you’re thinking about…
Only later did she remember she’d forgotten all about McKenna’s request for an introduction. So much the better. Another reason to be back in touch.
By the way, my sister’s fiancé wants to talk to you about working together. I’ll send you his info. Though I still want to know what you’re thinking about.
She paused, her thumbs hovering over her smartphone. Then, she added, just so there’d be no misunderstanding, about her intent – xoxo.
Chapter Sixteen
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 16, 10:48 AM
subject: What I’m thinking about…
Everything. Your hair. Your ass. Your beautiful breasts. Your lips. You curled up in my bed. Your attitude. Most of all, why the fuck you left like that.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 16, 11:08 AM
subject: The other thoughts please
Something came up. Can we go back to those other items instead?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to:purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 16, 5:48 PM
subject: Not sure…
I don’t know. Can we?
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 16, 11:48 PM
subject: Be sure…
You tell me.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 17, 6:48 AM
subject: Ball. In. Your. Court.
You tell me what you’re wearing. You tell me if you can’t stop thinking about me. You tell me why you’re not here spread across my lap, that beautiful ass calling out for my palm.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 17, 9:48 AM
subject: Served
So you’re saying you want to spank me?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 17, 3:48 PM
subject: Hand is ready
You have no idea.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 17, 3:49 PM
subject:Ass is too
Oh, I have an idea. I definitely have an idea. And I would like that very much. I also think you have a thing for my ass.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 17, 11:48 PM
subject: More on that
It’s perfection. I want to bite it. Lick it. Smack it. Grip it hard while I fuck you.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 18, 1:01 AM
subject: Which means….
So you still want me, I take it?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 18, 7:01 AM
subject: Yes
You know I do. That didn’t change.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 18, 11:34 AM
subject: Ditto…
I still want you…
Clay stared at the computer screen, his fingers hovering over the keys, considering a reply. But damn, those words were mocking him. I still want you. How could she say that with the way she’d left? It made no sense, and Michele had spelled it out for him in no uncertain terms that if Julia wanted to play ball, she’d be at the plate, not skipping and frolicking along the foul lines, darting in and out of sight. He pushed away from his keyboard, like an alcoholic trying to step away from the bar. Grabbing a pen and a contract from the pile of papers on his desk, he tossed his phone onto his desk, left his office and locked the door.
If he stayed within typing distance of either device, he’d surely keep up this volley with her. Because she was as irresistible to him as she’d been that very first night. With his head down the whole way, he headed to a bench outside Central Park and settled onto it, trying his best to dive into the fine print on a licensing deal that the actor Liam Connor needed wrapped up before he opened a new restaurant in New York in a few weeks. Clay didn’t usually do restaurant deals, but Liam was a long-time client and had asked him to look over the terms with the other co-owner. Clay shoved his hand through his hair as he studied the fine print, but soon the words were levitating on the page, terms like indemnify that he knew backwards and forwards, but now it was a slow, cruel tease because he couldn’t focus on a damn thing.