It’s too late though. He bows his head and steps back. He gives me one more look before he turns and walks down the hall to the stairs.
“Fletcher?” I call softly, just as he disappears through the door.
I don’t know what to do, so I do the only thing I can think of.
I go after him.
Chapter Seven
I wait inside the stairwell, backed up against the wall. The door flings open, almost smashes me in the face, and then I push it away and there she is.
Tiffy Preston was on my mind all goddamned night. Even before I knew her name. Her hot breath on the fabric of my jeans during the show last night. Her upturned eyes. I dreamed about those upturned eyes. Pushing my cock down her throat while she looked up at me. Maybe a little bit of mascara running down her face from tearing up with the effort of swallowing me whole.
“You!” she yells, as she pushes me solidly in the chest, making me take a step back.
My dick is already hard.
“What are you doing?” she yells. And if I didn’t already know this stairwell was soundproof, I’d be worried about how loud she is. But I know it’s soundproof. I’ve had other girls screaming up in here before.
And now it’s her turn.
Because I need to get this girl off my mind and there is only one sure way to do that.
Fuck her.
Once I fuck her, she will cease to exist. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s gonna stay. One very simple solution to the problem that is Tiffy Preston.
“Say something, dammit.”
“Why did you follow me?” I say it as calm as can be. Not one syllable betrays the way I want to push her over, drag that lily-white dress up her thighs, and fuck her from behind.
“What?” She blinks at me.
I almost laugh. But I’m so fucking horny. I’m so in need of release, and I need it to happen now. I don’t want her to start feeling comfortable with me. I just want her to do as she’s told. “Why, Tiffy?”
She bolts, reaching for the door handle and pulling back. But it’s locked from the outside and she stumbles back a step when she realizes this. “We’re locked in!” She whirls around to me. “What the—”
I cup my hand over her mouth. It’s a creeper move, and she takes it in stride, so I have to give her credit for that. “Shhh. Just come with me.”
I take her hand and start climbing the stairs that lead up to the roof. That door is locked too, but I press my back to it, making the keycard in my back pocket activate the mechanism, and then flash Tiffy a smile so she doesn’t realize we’re not locked in.
I can’t have her bolting before I get my chance to erase her from my thoughts.
“What is this?” she asks, all innocent-like, when we step out into the fresh morning air.
“What’s it look like?” I ask back, a little smile of satisfaction creeping up against my wishes.
“A garden?”
“Sorta,” I say, leading her away from the door and the only way back down, so she can concentrate on what’s gonna happen up here with me instead. “I guess they thought about a rooftop garden terrace at one point. But you know, we’re like six thousand feet up in elevation and it’s harder to grow things here than most people realize.”
“You grew up in Tahoe.”
“North Shore, born and raised.”
“What do your parents do?”
“They’re gone,” I say, reaching for her face. I kiss her before she has a chance to say, I’m sorry, like everyone else. Mostly because I just want to imagine her lips around my dick, but also to shut her up about my family.
She kisses me back this time. The roof does it to them. Makes them think a) they are special and b) they are alone. When in fact there are several buildings nearby taller than the Landslide, so technically, lots of people can see us.
She pulls back from the kiss and I growl out my discontent as she stammers to find words. “How many girls have you brought up here?”
Shit, she was supposed to think she was the only one. “Not a lot,” I say. She crinkles her nose at me, but it’s not a lie. “I’m a spontaneous kinda guy, Tiffy. And getting up the roof stairs from the penthouse floor is not something you can do spontaneously.”
“Oh.”
She looks at me for a second. Not with suspicion for once, but maybe a little bit of relief. I kinda like it. “Come on, let me show you something.” I pull her hand behind me, still laughing a little inside at how easy it is to take a girl from blind hate to blind lust. “See, they had all these raised gardens planned and everything.” I wave my hand at the sections of concrete acting like flower beds. “For whatever reason, they abandoned the project and this is all that’s left.” It’s not very impressive. Just some dead shrubs and whatever weeds grow up here in the summer. “But they do have this little potting shed.”
“Oh, that’s cute,” Tiffy says. I look back and catch a smile.
I’ve never been up here during the day. Sneaking up to the penthouse floor isn’t a daytime activity. But I didn’t have to sneak. So here it is in full sunlight. I have to admit, it’s a little shoddy-looking when it’s not shrouded in darkness and only lit up by the stars. It’s made out of stained gray cinderblock, the glass is dirty, and there’s a layer of dust clinging to the panes. The metal door is a little bit rusty and it squeaks when I open it.
There’s a storage box in the far corner, and I let go of Tiffy’s hand to walk over to it.
“What’s that?” she asks. “Your nookie stash?”
I look over my shoulder and smile. “Nookie?”
“You know what I mean.”
It is my nookie stash, and she should be pissed off about that. But maybe the layer of dust over the footlocker box is all she needs to believe me when I say it’s been a while. I flip the latch up and open the lid.
“Oh my God. It is your nookie box. How many times have you had sex on that blanket?”
I throw the blanket down on the ground. “Never, you sicko. I make them stand.”
“Asshole.”
“Hey, you asked. If you don’t want to know about the secret life of Fletcher Novak, don’t ask.”
“Is that what you tell them? Don’t ask?”
“I just told you, didn’t I?” I regret my words the second they leave my mouth. She pulls away. “Sorry,” I say, meaning it. I don’t ever make the girls feel cheap when they’ve got my attention. It’s one night, I make sure they know that. And I just told Tiffy that it’s a one-time thing. But I don’t have to rub it in. “I have not had sex on this blanket, OK? I use it for picnics.”
“I’ve heard everything now.” She snorts.
“Hey, I’m a romantic, what can I say?”
“You’re playing me right now, aren’t you?”
“Only if you want to be played.”
“Why did you bring me up here?”
“Why do you think?”
We stare at each other for a few seconds. I can practically hear her thoughts. Her inner voice is telling her to run. Get as far away from me as possible. They all think that. But none of them can resist me. I’m not saying that to be obnoxious. It’s just true. I have that ‘it’ factor. Something about me just screams sexy.
“Have you thought about me?” I ask. “Since last night at the show? Because I’ve thought about you.”
“What did you think about me? That I’m your next victim?”
“No, actually.” I smooth down the blanket on the ground of the shed and then step towards her, taking her face in my hands and pulling her tight against my chest. “I’ve thought about your hot breath as you panted against my cock when I was standing on your chair. I thought about your upturned eyes, looking at me if I ever got the chance to get you on your knees.”
She gulps air.
“Now tell me what you’ve been thinking about. Because you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be.”
“We’re locked in,” she whispers as my mouth moves in closer.