Holding her was bliss, and kissing her was a little piece of heaven. I'd been fantasizing about that moment for longer than I'd care to admit.
And if I played my hand right this evening, I'd have her undressed and between the sheets soon enough, too.
Her car idled behind mine as I unlocked the gate to my apartment building. From there I led her to the heated parking garage. She parked in my guest spot and stumbled out of the car, rubbing her hands together for warmth.
“Here we are,” I said, slinging an arm around her as I showed her to the elevator. “Home sweet home.”
“I'm a bit surprised you live in an apartment. Figured a wealthy man like yourself would have a mansion, given the success of Slicker Image.”
“Sorry to disappoint. What's the problem? You're not one of those gold-digging types, are you?”
She balked and hurried into the open elevator. “O-of course I'm not. Just hurry up and press the button, would you? We've got a lot of things to discuss.”
“Thought I told you talking could come after.” I jammed the button for floor eight. “After a kiss like that, there's no way in hell you're gonna leave me hanging.”
She turned scarlet. I watched and wondered what I was supposed to do with a woman like her.
Most of the girls I brought home were the extroverted, blatantly flirtatious sort. They weren't shy and nervous at all; not like Sarah.
I liked it. Her quietness was refreshing – appealing, really. I found myself wanting to know more about her. Five years we'd worked across from each other, and the most interaction we'd shared were a few playful jabs now and again.
Suddenly, I felt weird. The desire to actually know the woman I was about to screw wasn't something I'd ever gotten familiar with. In they went, and they were out of my life by morning – and that was how I always preferred it to be.
With Sarah, something was different.
“So if you're not marrying Rosa,” she said, her voice barely audible over the cheery elevator music. “Then what?”
I knew what she was getting it. Soon as we kissed and that photographer called us a couple, the idea struck me like lightning.
Why hadn't I thought of it before?
“How about we get to my place first? Maybe after a couple of drinks and a few hours in my bed, I'll feel like talking about it.”
She punched my shoulder as I led her to my apartment. “You've got twenty five days left to go, and all you can do is make stupid jokes? That does it. I may as well kiss my store goodbye now.”
“It's not a joke.”
“...What?”
“You didn't follow me home just to talk business.” I gave her a smoldering look. “And you damn well know it.”
She fiddled with her phone while I unlocked the door and flicked on the light. Phew, thank goodness I cleaned the place up earlier. Doubt she would have been pleased to find the dress that girl left behind the other night.
But never mind anyone else right now. Tonight, I was gonna fuck Sarah Masters so good I'd have her saying my name until dawn.
I moved into the bar while she wandered slowly about, studying the posters on the walls and then pausing before my cactus collection on the windowsill.
“I never took you as the sort of guy who cared for plants.”
“Oh, I'm a black thumb. I kill weeds just by looking at them,” I said with a laugh. “But my mother thought my place was too dreary without a lick of greenery in it, so yeah.”
She touched one of them and winced at her pricked finger. “Not sure I'd quite call cacti greenery. What, no Christmas tree?”
“There's a nice fake one at Slicker Image. Hard to see the point of having one here.” I rifled through the bar and picked out the highest-proof booze in the cabinet. “I'm hardly home enough to enjoy it. Don't get visitors much. And no little brats to run around playing Santa for; thank the Lord.”
I waved for her to come over to the bar. She stared at all of my shiny bottles with wide eyes.
“For someone who doesn't get lots of visitors, you sure are prepared for an army of them.” She stared at me suspiciously. “Wait. I know what it is. This is how you trick girls into taking off their clothes for you, isn't it? Same as you're trying to do to me now.”
I grinned widely and poured tequila and citrus liqueur in a glass despite her protests. A margarita; that's what she was drinking at Club Neon, wasn't it? Yep. Always worth it to pay attention to a girl's favorite drink.
“I'm not trying to 'trick' anyone. Besides, I always like to serve a nice glass of something prior to any business negotiations.”
She raised her eyebrow and took the cup. “Is that what this is to you?”
I filled my own mug with vodka and lime juice, then swigged it all down while she watched in amazement.
“If we're gonna be discussing what I think we are, I promise you I'll need all the help I can get.”
The more boozed up I got, the prettier she looked. Not that she wasn't already gorgeous, mind. I just wanted to rip off her underwear more and more with each sip, until finally my cock was so hard that I thought I was gonna pass out.
She stirred her own beverage for a while before finally relenting and gulping much of it down. Then, with a sigh, she slammed the glass on the counter.
“There's only one way to save both our businesses,” she said, her tone curt and frank. “You've gotta
