After This Night Page 3
Michele laughed nervously. “Oh, we’re not together. Just friends,” she said, extending a hand to shake.
Liam’s green eyes twinkled. “All the better for me,” he said, then ran a hand through his mass of dark hair. “Why don’t you come along to The Vitale then for a nightcap? It’s right next to the restaurant I’ll be opening soon.”
Clay wanted to roll his eyes. Could Liam be any more obvious? But Michele seemed to be enjoying it because she answered quickly. “I would love to.”
“I would love to take you.”
Liam was recognized a few times on the street, and again at the bar where he was amiable, and signed a cocktail napkin for a young woman who said she was a theater student at NYU and had always loved his work.
“That’s so nice that she adores you so much,” Michele said to Liam when the woman walked away.
“And I adore signing cocktail napkins,” Liam said, with his trademark grin that made women swoon. “Signed a few in the Bahamas last weekend.”
“How was your vacation there?” Clay asked. “Good times?”
“Amazing. Gorgeous blue skies, perfect weather . . . did some fishing. Oh, and listen to this. Some guy tried to get me to buy real estate there. A damn condo, of all things,” Liam said, tossing his hands up in exasperation. “Do they think I was born yesterday? I know how those things work. It was probably for one of those deals where only one unit is done so they show you that. And then just pictures of the rest.”
“And you want me to advise you on whether this is a good deal or not?” Clay said in a dry tone.
“Oh yeah. Exactly. Please tell me, because my poor little actor brain can’t figure it out,” he said, and the two men laughed.
“Actually,” Michele chimed in, crossing her legs, and sitting up straighter in the bar stool as she kept her eyes locked on Liam. “I’ve heard that a lot of those scams try to prey on celebrities. Because so many celebrities can often make quick decisions with money.”
“I can make quick decisions on other things,” Liam said, waggling his eyebrows at Michele.
“Like what, Liam?” she asked in a soft, sexy voice Clay had rarely heard her use.
Damn, the flirting between the two was stirring up again. “And that’s my cue to go,” Clay said, slapping some money down on the bar. He patted Liam on the shoulder. “Poker tomorrow night?”
“Of course.”
“See you then.”
He started to leave, but Michele followed him to the doorway. “You’re always just taking off,” she said brusquely, crossing her arms.
“Didn’t seem I was necessary around here. You two are hitting it off,” he said with a shrug.
“Are you trying to pawn me off on him?”
“Pawn you off?” he asked as if she’d been speaking a foreign language. “You guys are getting along. I’m making myself scarce so you can keep getting along.”
She heaved a sigh. “How was your trip to San Francisco last week?”
He could have done without the reminder. It took every ounce of will he had to strip his California girl from his brain. “It was fine.”
“Did you ever hear from that woman you were crazy about?”
And his perfect hold on not thinking about Julia slipped through his fingers. One mention, one reminder of how he felt for her, and she came roaring back to the front of his mind. It was like a truck had slammed into his body, the weight and pressure of the memory of the woman he craved. “Michele, if you don’t want to hang with Liam, I don’t care. I’ll tell him I need to take you home. Whatever you need. I’m not trying to pawn you off on him. I thought you were having a nice time with him and I wanted to get out of the way. If I read the signals wrong, I’m sorry.”
“You do a lot of that, don’t you?” she said, looking him fiercely in the eyes like they were locked in a battle to not blink first.
He squinted at her, as if that would help him understand what she was saying. “What do you mean?”
“Read the signals wrong, Clay. You read the signals wrong,” she said, parking her hands on her hips.
“What signals am I reading wrong?”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
He shook his head in frustration. “Evidently I don’t. And on that note, it was a pleasure spending the evening with you.”
Once he returned to his home, he tossed his suit jacket on the couch, unbuttoned his shirt, and threw it in the laundry. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, shed the rest of his clothes, and then flopped down on his bed, surrounded by the sounds of silence.
He considered taking up meditation for a nanosecond. Then practicing a mantra. Hell, maybe he could even give yoga a shot. But in the end, none of those things suited him, so he did what his instincts told him to do. Reach out to Julia.
CHAPTER FOUR
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:23 PM
subject: You
I keep thinking about what happened on your street. Can’t stop worrying about you. Are you okay?
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:24 PM
subject: Me
Mostly. How are you?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:25 PM
subject: Not my favorite day that’s for sure
Been better . . .
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:26 PM
subject: Wish I could change that
I hate the thought of you having a bad day. I want you to be happy.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:27 PM
subject: I’m not unhappy
I’m just worried about you. I feel like an ass. Like I just left you there on the street.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:29 PM
subject: You’re not, but you have a nice ass :)
I’m a big girl. I made it home safely. But it’s sweet you were worried.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:31 PM
subject: Sweet? Me?
I still am worried. Is Stevie bugging you?
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:32 PM
subject: Soooo sweet . . . strong, confident, sexy too
He’s fine. It will all be fine soon enough. Let’s talk about something else. I came up with a new cocktail tonight.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:33 PM
subject: Mixing it up
Tell me about it.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:34 PM
subject: Delish on your lips . . .
It’s lemonade, vodka and champagne.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:35 PM
subject: That describes you . . .
Sounds like something I’d never touch but that will be beloved by your bar goers.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:36 PM
subject: Love your innuendo
It is already. The gal I run the bar with served a ton tonight. Said it was a big hit. Everyone was happy-buzzed too.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:37 PM
subject: Double entendres too
Sounds like a perfect state of existence. Can I have one of those too? The happy-buzz, that is.
from: purplesnow
globe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:37 PM
subject: Named it for you
I call it The Heist. What did you do tonight? If you were on a date, please just tell me you played with kittens at a rescue shelter or something instead.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:39 PM
subject: No pussy tonight
I saw a play. My favorite kind of storyline. (And thank you for the name. Maybe I will taste it sometime)
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:41 PM
subject: Keep it that way!
The kind with a plot twist?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:42 PM
subject: Good memory
Yes. Call me impressed.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:44 PM
subject: You are on my mind
I remember everything about you . . . So . . . is today getting better for you?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:46 PM
subject: Yes. Since 20 minutes ago
Now it is.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:48 PM
subject: What was your favorite day ever?
Tell me a favorite memory from when you were younger. Pumpkin patch visit as a boy in Vegas? Lettering in varsity football? Prom? I bet you were prom king.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:49 PM
subject: I was not . . .
But I looked good in a blue ruffly tux.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:50 PM
subject: Pictures please
Dying to see THAT.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:51 PM
subject: Lawyers don’t send pictures
I know better than to send self-incriminating evidence.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:53 PM
subject: Damn that lawyer photo clause
I will just have to imagine you in your tux, and even though you were probably an insanely hot teenage boy, I suppose I really should be perving on you as a man. An insanely hot man. And you probably look insanely hot in a tux.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 8:55 PM
subject: Tux fetish?
I suspect any tux I wore would look best with your hands on the buttons.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 2, 11:56 PM
subject: You fetish
Unbuttoning them.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 9:02 PM
subject: Dangerous ground
We shouldn’t be doing this . . .
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: May 3, 12:04 AM
subject: Say the word
Do you want me to stop?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: May 2, 9:05 PM
subject: Don’t stop
No . . .
He told himself he was safe from her web of lies and brand of hurt by the three thousand miles that separated them. As long as he stayed a continent away, he’d be okay. So when her name flashed across the screen with the enticing words—incoming call—he answered immediately.
“Hello.”
“Hi,” she said in a sleep-sexy purr.
“Are you in bed?”
“Only place I like to be when I’m talking to you,” she said, and he loved knowing what she looked like all stretched out on her bed. Like an invitation. A beautiful fucking invitation for him with those long, strong legs, her curvy hips, her beautiful breasts, and that gorgeous red hair spread out on the covers.
“I bet you’re wearing something sexy. Some little lingerie or bra-and-panty set,” he said, keeping the talk to sexiness because he couldn’t handle anything more right now.
“Do you want to know?”
“I want you to paint the image in my eye.”
“I have on my bare legs.”
A bolt of heat shot through his body, as he pictured her. “I like it when you wear those.”
“And I hope you’re not disappointed, but I don’t have on a bra.”
An appreciative growl escaped his throat. “Mmm. That is an excellent look on you. You do bra-lessness well. And now I’m picturing those naked shoulders of yours, kissing you all over, nibbling on your collarbone.”
“Biting down,” she said, continuing their imaginary travels.
“You taste so good, Julia. So sweet. Your skin is so damn sweet all over,” he said, and the memory of her taste rushed back to him, blasting into him like a collision of senses in his memory. Her collarbone, the fruity smell of her hair from whatever shampoo she used, so much more enticing than any other woman’s, the smell of her legs when she’d stepped out of the bath. And most of all, the scent of her arousal. The way he could tell just from inhaling her how he’d turned her on.
“Don’t you want to know what else I’m wearing?” she offered, her voice as naughty as could be.
He stretched out on his own bed, and parked his free hand behind his head. He was so hard right now from picturing her, but he had to restrain himself because he knew he couldn’t have her. But maybe this kind of teasing would be enough to get her out of his system. He knew this was trouble, he’d been there before, but this woman allured him like no other. She was a sexy drug and he wanted another hit.
“I do want to know,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
“Hold on a sec,” she said, and he heard a scatter of movement on her end. Then her voice again. “Go see.”
Those two words shot straight to his groin, and he was fighting a losing battle with resistance when he scrolled to his screen, and thumbed open his text message to find a picture. A flash of white lace, a glimpse of her hipbone, and then her hand just barely dipped into the waistband of her panties. Suggesting what she was about to do if things continued.
Did he want them to?
No. And yes. And no. And yes. But as he tried to retain the reasons for hanging up, they all fell to dust when she whispered, “I’m touching myself and I’m thinking of you.”
He groaned, unbidden. Everything in him craved her. Needed her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She didn’t answer right away, only breathed once, a low, sexy moan. In the span of those seconds, images flashed before him—her tied up to his bed, her bent over his desk, handcuffed to his balcony. Him pleasuring her, owning her body.
“Kissing you,” she whispered, and his blood stilled because he’d been expecting something dirtier from her sexy mouth.
“Yeah? You like that?”
“I wouldn’t like any of the other things if I didn’t like kissing you first,” she said, a gasp escaping her.
“What do you like about the way I kiss you?”
“Everything. Every single thing. Your lips are soft, and your stubble is rough, and you know exactly how to kiss me and make me melt for you,” she said, and something about her voice was different this time; needier, hungrier.
“I love it when you melt into my arms,” he said. “When I first see you and first kiss you.”
“And it’s like lightning or electricity or something,” she said,
and her breathing intensified.
“Like we can’t get enough of each other, and can’t stop kissing,” he said, and a shudder wracked his body. “Tell me where your hand is now.”
“Between my legs. Moving faster,” she said, and let out a sexy cry that sent heat waves throughout his bones and blood.
“Are you writhing there on your bed?”
“Yes.”
“With your legs wide open?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice rising higher, and he could tell she was getting closer. “Are you touching yourself, Clay?”
“No,” he said, though he was sure he’d need to handcuff his wrists any second to keep from grabbing his erection.
“Please,” she said, her voice a delicious beg. That beg unwound him. It reached deep into his dirty mind and made him want to do everything with her, for her, to her.
“Please what?”
“Please touch yourself,” she moaned, and he pictured her rocking her hips into her hand. With that image burned in front of his eyes, her voice in his ear, he knew it wouldn’t take long. A few quick strokes, and he’d be there.
“Why do you want me to?”
“I like picturing you touching yourself. I like the image of your big, strong hand wrapped around your cock. Stroking yourself. Thinking of me.”
“Yeah? That gets you hot?” His hands were trembling. He wanted so badly to give in to this moment with her.
“So hot. Anything you do turns me on. Don’t you get that?”
“I think you just want to break me down. And make me think of you.”
“But you already are, aren’t you?”
“I already am,” he admitted.
“Then come with me.”
“What makes you think I’m going to come?”
“Because I know you. You will when you hear me in about thirty seconds,” she said, and words fell away. She’d been reduced to moans and cries and pants, and there was no fucking way he could resist. It was either a cold shower for the rest of the whole night, or taking matters into his own hands. So he did, and it didn’t take long for him to join her, pleasure rippling through every single vein as she cried out his name and he came hard and fast.
A minute later, after he’d washed his hands and returned to the dark of the bedroom, she spoke. “I wish I were there wearing your clothes right now.”
He laughed. “That’s what you want to be doing? Because I’d like to be fucking you if you were here.”
“Well, that too. But then I’d put on your shirt.”
“You like that, don’t you?”