I scrolled to the text.
Getting ready for bed, she’d typed.
Wish I could tuck you in, I replied.
Me too, she texted back. I have a little something for you . . .
What she sent next took my breath away, and I staggered to my chair to sit down. She sent picture after picture of herself, or parts of herself. Parts of her covered, and parts not so covered, with little scraps of lace. A garter here. A tiny slip of a bra there. One nipple playing peekaboo with a brushing of lace. A thong that left very little of her ass to my imagination.
Holy fuck, I typed when the pictures stopped.
You like? she asked.
Let’s just say if I were there, I’d remove every last bit of that lingerie. With my teeth.
Oh yeah? she asked. Then what would you do?
I looked at my watch. I had a few minutes before I needed to leave the office.
I’d bend you over the foot of the bed.
Sounds good, she replied.
Smack that ass for being such a tease.
*squirms*
I grinned and typed fast.
Dip a finger into your pussy.
Mmmm, she texted back.
Someone knocked on the door.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Damn fucking lunch, I typed.
Damn cock-blocking business trip, she replied.
At least you can have some relief, I sent back. I’ll be stuck in a stuffy lunch.
Drown your sorrow in jiu.
I will, I texted back. Sweet dreams.
Sweet dreams *soon*, she wrote. I have a little problem to take care of first.
I groaned, picturing her finding a toy in her bedside table, her legs spread . . .
Tease, I finally sent her.
Learned from the best, she replied.
I felt despondent all day. Only two more days until I could leave China, but I knew those two days would drag. I called Jackson when I made it back to the hotel room that evening. He was an early riser and I knew he’d be up.
“Nathaniel,” he said. “How’s China?”
“Long and boring,” I said. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” With the time difference, it was just after five in the morning.
“Nah. Just getting ready for my morning run.”
We spoke for a few minutes about nothing in particular and made some plans to get together once I returned. It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to his recent wedding and Felicia. He loved talking about his new wife.
“Question for you,” I said after hearing a long tirade on their plans concerning his retirement. “Was there a lot of gossip surrounding your engagement?” I honestly couldn’t remember; it had been a difficult time for me with Abby leaving and all.
“There was some talk Felicia might have been pregnant,” he said with a laugh. “But that wasn’t true, of course.”
I knew they both wanted children, but I also knew they wanted to wait a few years.
“Why?” he asked. “Are you and Abby—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Nothing like that.” Not yet. “I just know you hadn’t known each other for very long when you proposed. It made me wonder.”
“Number one,” he said. “I don’t give a fuck what people think, and I know you sure as hell don’t.”
I laughed. He was right, for the most part.
“Number two,” he continued. “If I found the woman I knew I wanted to marry and she wanted to marry me, why should what other people think have anything to do with it?”
“I don’t want people to gossip about Abby,” I said without thinking. “I don’t want anyone to think less of her.”
“Aha!” he said. “I knew it.”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it over the phone. “I didn’t say I hadn’t thought about marrying Abby.”
“You implied it,” he said, and then continued without waiting for my response. “Listen, man, Abby’s a strong woman.”
“I know that.”
“And she’s secure enough in who she is to not give a fuck if people gossip about her,” he said. “Besides, anyone who would think less of her for agreeing to marry you is either an ass or jealous.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Jackson. Sometimes I just need to talk things out.”
“No problem.”
“You’ll keep this conversation just between us, right?” I asked. “You won’t tell—”
“My wife that her best friend’s boyfriend is thinking about popping the question?” he asked. I knew he was smiling.
“Right.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
I thought about my conversation with Jackson for much of the remainder of the evening. Before I went to bed that night, I sent Abby a text with three simple lines.
Want you.
Miss you.
Love you.
I called her Friday night, China time, with bad news.
“There’ve been some problems,” I told her, while watching my pilot talk on his headset. He was waving his hands in the air. “We’re not going to be able to leave on time.”
“How long will you be delayed?”
“We think a few more hours,” I said. “I should make it to New York around three in the morning. I’ll just get a taxi home.”
“I can come pick you up. It won’t be a problem.”
“I know, but I’d rather you sleep. I’ll be there when you wake up.”
I didn’t stay on the phone long; I was more than a bit pissed I wouldn’t be leaving on time, and I didn’t want her to think I was angry at her.
Nearly twenty hours later, I tiptoed into our bedroom. She slept, arms wrapped around my pillow, with Apollo curled up by her side. He lifted his head at my entrance, and I pointed to the floor.
After he hopped down with a heavy sigh, I slowly undressed, dropping my clothes in a pile on the floor. I pulled the sheet back slightly, and my heart nearly stopped when I saw that she wore one of my white dress shirts.
Making sure not to wake her, I climbed into bed and gently gathered her in my arms. She snuggled against me with a soft sigh of contentment. I closed my eyes.
Home.
Finally.
Chapter Twenty-four
—ABBY—
There was something important I needed to remember. In my dream, I struggled to remember what it was. Something was going to happen. Something I knew I shouldn’t forget.
Something. Something. Something.
As I drifted awake, I became aware of warm arms surrounding me, warm arms and the feeling of someone watching me. I slowly opened one eye.
Nathaniel!
“Hey,” he said, smiling the heart-stopping grin that always and without fail melted me. There was nothing better than waking up in Nathaniel’s arms. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
“Hey,” I said, returning his smile with one of my own. “When did you get home?”
“Around four.” He peeked over my shoulder to the clock on my nightstand. “About three hours ago.”
“You’re not sleeping?”
“No,” he said. “I slept on the plane. I’ve been lying here, holding you. Watching you sleep.” His finger traced my ear. “Did you know you have a little freckle right here, too?”
I felt my face heat. “No.”
He squinted and looked at it. “I’ve never noticed it before.” Then his lips closed in and he gently kissed the spot just behind my earlobe. “I wanted to do that, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”