I shrug and let the mischievous smile I suddenly feel, spread over my lips. “Not on their own, but in a sentence they can do all kinds of exciting things to me.”
“Example? And if you call me a ‘fucking cock’ I swear to God, I’m not going to take it lying down.”
As the threat rolls off his tongue, the waitress returns with bread, dipping sauce and stuffed olives. Jesse does his best to hide his clear frustration from her, but I ignore it.
“Ooh, are you going to spank me? Maybe you are a little ‘Fifty Shades’ after all.”
The waitress snorts and hurries off as he rolls his gorgeous dark eyes. “I have no idea what ‘Fifty Shades’ is and no, I’m not going to ‘spank’ you. Back to the example.”
My blood buzzes. I have the perfect example. I sit back in my chair and slip my feet from my heels. “Alright, I can give you an example.”
I stretch my legs out in front of me, until I feel the chair between his legs. Then, I push further, until the tips of my toes graze his cock through his slacks. His dark, beautiful eyes widen and he clears his throat. Deep down, I take pleasure in his obvious uneasiness. He reaches for his stemmed glass of water and draws it to his mouth. I watch as the condensation runs down the glass and trickles onto the stem.
“Alix—” He warns, before taking another nervous sip of his water.
“Jesse,” I say, cutting him off. “I want you to fuck me with your big cock. Properly this time.”
Right on cue, he chokes on the water and the wine glass, somehow, slips from his fingertips before pouring over the table and into his lap. He knew I was going to say it. He asked for the example. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying desperately not to laugh as he snatches my ankle and pushes it off his growing erection. A subtle blush flares across his cheeks and, shit, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen since high school. How can this grown ass man be so shy? He’s fucking hot, and between his legs, he carries the sexiest penis I’ve ever seen. He should be conquering women. He should be making them fall to their knees in front of him. Instead, he remains a perfect gentleman.
“Are you kidding me?” He hisses under his breath.
He’s mad, obviously, and I can’t help but find it amusing. If he wasn’t so… uptight, this could’ve been avoided.
“Hey, you asked for it. It’s not my fault you can’t handle it.”
“Get up.” He orders as he pats down his slack with napkins.
I slip my foot back into my heel and grab my clutch. “Where are we going?”
Jesse pushes himself to his feet and continues to swipe at his crotch. It’s quite the scene, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“I’m not about to eat lunch with a wet lap. I need to change.”
“Okay, so we’ll go to my house.” I offer.
“Oh, no.” He shakes his head and points an accusing finger in my direction. I want to bite it. “I’m not going to your house—to be alone with you. You said two lunches, two dinners and then the orgasm. That’s the order we’re going to do it in.”
Beside us, an older couple gasp and clutch their pearls… or they would be clutching their pearls if they were wearing any. In this case, they’re fine golden chains.
It’s in this moment I realize just how stressed out Jesse is. He gets worked up over situations that really aren’t that bad. He’s overworked and overtired and is clearly lacking in the sexual experience department. Has he even had a life outside of the hotels? Has he ever just let go and not cared?
“I was only offering a simple lunch, Jesse. No busy restaurant. No weird and expensive French food… and no random people staring at your soaking crotch while you shout and embarrass yourself.”
You know, I never feel more of a sexual deviant than I do when he’s around. He acts as though he’s afraid I’ll jump him at any second. I don’t know how many times I have to tell him I’m not eager to saddle up to that horse either.
After a quick glance around the silent restaurant, he nods ever so subtly. “Alright, we’ll go to your house, but we’re taking my car.”
I shrug and nod. “Suits me,” I tell him. “I don’t even have a car.”
Chapter Five
Jesse
“How do you not own a car?” I ask her, completely bewildered.
Everyone has a car, right? I couldn’t survive without mine. I’m always in it, always driving from town to town—city to city. I love driving. I love getting behind the wheel, turning my music on and thinking about something other than hotels. My car is my own little safe haven… away from the shit I don’t want to deal with.
Alix shrugs her shoulders as she bounces along next to me, trying desperately to keep up. I slow my long strides into a relaxed pace as we follow the sidewalk towards the underground parking lot at the end of the plaza.
“I’ve never needed one. I mean, I have my license, but I never went out of my way to buy a car. Besides, I live close enough to work so I catch taxis or ride the bus.”
“Why would you want to do that? Catching public transport means you have to talk to people.”
I shudder at the thought.
“Unlike you,” she begins, giving me a nudge with her shoulder. “I enjoy communicating with other people and catching the bus gives me a little extra time to read.”
Her eyes light up at the mention of reading and it’s beautiful to see. I can’t remember the last time I felt so passionate about something… Passion: the one emotion that has eluded me this whole time. The last time I felt any passion was when I was living in Australia with my mom, studying at QUT, a Brisbane based University, and working on my Bachelor of Fine Arts. When my father found out, he pulled some strings and promptly put an end to it. My fine arts degree swiftly became a business degree, majoring in economics, and when I was finished, he moved me to Milan where I ran my first Tempt Hotel. Now, I’m here in California doing the same thing. When you work as hard as I do, in a field you don’t want to work in, you lose passion—in all aspects of life.
“What do you read?” I find myself asking, genuinely interested.
I don’t see her as the kind of girl who reads the classics.
“A whole range of stuff, really.” Her cheeks slight from tan to pink. “Adult Romance mostly.”
I stuff my hands into my pockets and ignore the way one of them feels damp and cold against my skin. Alix hooks one of her tiny arms around mine and I peer sideways at her, searching for a meaning behind the gesture, but her countenance doesn’t change.
“Is there sex?” I question, continuing on with our conversation. There’s nothing more I hate than an awkward silence. “In the books you read?”
She peers up at me, her eyebrows curved perfectly. “What do you think?”
“Right. Stupid question.”
We descend the slight ramp to the underground parking lot. It’s not completely dark. Murky, yellow lamps emit enough light to reflect off the cars and make the sidewalk glow. We walk in silence, but Alix doesn’t have to speak. Through her grip, I can feel her excitement. It flows into my body, kicking up the tempo of my own heart. Our shoes click against the smooth concrete as we move towards the back corner and I can’t help but take another peek sideways at her. Her eyes, usually the color of honey whiskey, are black in this light, but even so, their eager gleam still shines through.
“What kind of car are you hoping for?” I ask, curious to hear what she finds impressive.
She smiles. “Is a Lamborghini too much?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Jesus, a Lamborghini? Don’t start small or anything. How am I supposed to impress you now?”
With a smug expression, Alix glances up at me. “You’re trying to impress me?”
“I dropped water into my lap and ruined lunch. What do you think?”
She giggles. “Well, lunch isn’t over yet. I’m not a great cook, so there’s still a good chance ruining it can fall on my shoulders.”
I fish my car keys from my pocket.
“If you can cook better than I can, I think we’ll be okay.”
I hit the button and lights flash five feet in front of us. Lambo or not, my 2014 Jaguar F-Type Coupe R is pretty impressive—and I make a quick mental note not to say it like that again. I have a few cars, but this one I like the most.
“A Jag,” she states simply, letting her arm slip from mine. “Not bad.”
“But it’s no Lamborghini,” I point out as I saunter around to the driver’s side.
Her lips pull at the corners as she reaches out to touch its sleek, black body. “You know, suddenly you’re a lot more bearable.”
I rest my arms on the roof of the car and look over at her. “Suddenly, I’m more bearable? You’re not exactly a capsicum anymore either.”
Alix snorts. “A capsicum? What?”
“Yes, a capsicum—unbearable, sharp and hard to stomach.”
Her lips drag wider—excited by my insult almost. I have to give it to her. She’s a hard woman to offend—not that I was trying to offend her.
“Some people find capsicums irresistible. They’re shapely, firm and delicious.” Her eyes flare. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to eat your vegetables?”
I definitely don’t miss the double meaning in her words and I feel my eyebrows furrow as I analyze her expression. She enjoys my discomfort, but I won’t let her get the better of me this time.
“I do,” I simply say, before opening my door and lowering myself into the driver’s seat.
I don't open her door for her. She didn’t much appreciate the polite gesture at the restaurant, so I really don’t want to open myself up for another comment about the night we spent together. I was there. I’m aware how awkward it was.
Alix opens the door and drops ungracefully into the seat. She’s definitely not like the other women I’ve had in my car. I know a lot of people, I go to a lot of events and my list of dates is anything but small, but they’re all exactly the same. Tall, slim and polite—beyond polite—but Alix… well, she doesn’t seem to care too much about etiquette. I want to find it endearing, but it’s quite annoying, actually.
“What vegetables do you like?” She asks, her eyes skimming over the interior.
“Potatoes,” I tell her.
Potatoes are a favorite of mine… along with broccoli and carrots. Not that that’s important information to learn. I slip my key into the ignition and my baby roars into life.
“Stiff, bland, and tasteless.” She mutters. “Go figure.”
I roll my eyes and work on ignoring her as I reverse out of my parking space.
Alix
I’m not going to lie. His car is beautiful. Then again, I didn’t expect anything less for a man like him. I’m unable to pull the quirk from my lips as a result of our conversation. It’s kind of thrilling bickering with him, and to be honest, I like the shade of pink that spreads over his smooth skin whenever I say something inappropriate.
Once we’re out of the underground parking lot and into the street, Jesse relaxes further into his seat and presses his foot harder against the gas. I sneak a peek at him sideways and admire the long ropes of muscle in his forearms. For a guy stuck in meetings all of the time, he sure is in great shape.
“Staring is rude.” He states with a smirk as his fingers tighten around the wheel.
“It’s only rude if you’re staring at someone because they have a visual impairment. You clearly do not, so my kind of staring isn’t rude, it’s complimentary.”
He glances at me. “You have a retort for just about anything, don’t you?”
“Only when my dignity is being questioned.” Okay. That’s a lie. I don’t have dignity, but I do have an opinion on just about everything. It’s probably why most people find me annoying.
With a sigh, he turns on the music and adjusts the volume loud enough for conversation to be drowned out. It’s not ear drum bursting, but it’s enough to stop me from yelling over the top of it.
When we arrive at my apartment, Jesse takes up the only available space with my number on it. I have three spaces for myself, but the neighbors have quickly realized I don’t have a car, and now use two of them for themselves. I don’t mind, I suppose. You know, other than the fact they didn’t even ask me.
Without a word, we exit the car. The Jag looks completely out of place here. I mean, I live in a nice area and everything is clean and well maintained, but it’s not that nice, that clean or that well maintained. Suddenly, I feel a slight pang of shame for bringing him here… like what I have won’t be to his standards. I shake the thoughts off. Not everyone can be millionaires and that’s not my fault. I head for the stairs.
“Stairs?” He asks, walking closely behind me.
“Yep, stairs. Not all of us can afford to live in penthouse suites with elevators from the private parking lot to the front door.”
My tone comes out snarkier than I mean, but I don’t apologize. It’s one thing to feel any kind of inadequacy when it comes to Jesse and his lifestyle, but to lose face in front of him is another thing entirely. I’m Alix. I am bitchy, sarcastic and in control. Hm, maybe I should get it printed on a shirt?
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, as I begin my climb to the sixth floor. “I was implying that stairwells and small women don’t sound like a safe combination—especially when you finish at the hours you do.”
Small women? Well, there’s a first for everything. I guess to a tall, wide machine like him I do seem quite small.
“Thanks for the concern,” I tell him. “But most of my shoes come with a crazy heel. I pity whoever tries to attack me while I’m wearing them.”
He blows air from his cheeks. “Alix the brave—stabbing hearts with shoes since two thousand fourteen.”
Abruptly, I whip around. “Two thousand eight—”
My ankle gives out from underneath me and I squeak as I lose my balance. Not wanting to crack my head open, I surge forward and wrap my arms around Jesse’s neck. His arms circle my waist and he pulls me tightly against him. His breath is hot and quick on my face, and I’m sure mine is on his too. I glance at his mouth, less than an inch from mine, and quickly all memories from the other night become clouded. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought?
“Are you seriously staring at my mouth right now?”
He’s incredibly warm and smells like an exotic mix of cucumber, lime and green tea.
“Yes. You have a beautiful mouth. By the way, are both your parents Caucasian, because your lips are—”
He crushes his mouth to mine and the impulse of it steals my breath. My head spins and pulsates all at once as he glides his tongue against my bottom lip. God, I can’t even breathe. And just like that, I’ve become putty in his stupid, confusing hands. Jesse pulls away, looking not nearly as affected as I do, and I drop my arms from around his neck. I sway briefly before stepping away from him. If this were a novel, he’d make some cliché joke about falling for him.
“If I knew it was that easy to shut you up, I’d have done it sooner.”
There’s no smugness to his tone or his demeanor. Oh, what a charmer. On another note, since when has he been capable of making my blood burn in my veins? Why did that one kiss have more passion than the night we spent together? I don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but I’m eager to find out. Super eager.
“Well what do you know? You are capable of a little fire. Here I was thinking you’d burnt out,” I tease as lean against the cold, metal railing.
“Don’t mistake my desperation in stopping you from talking as passion. And take your shoes off or I might actually let you break your neck next time.”
Ooh, the authority in his voice sends a hot flash of tingles down my spine. He has so much potential that he’s wasting it on plain sex. With a smile, I slip my feet out of my heels and scoop them up.
“We’re barely at my front door and you’re already barking orders like you’re king of the castle.”
I turn and bounce up the stairs. B
ehind me, I hear his shoes click against the concrete. They sound heavy and tired, but I don’t look over my shoulder despite how badly I want to mock him. He’s clearly more in shape than me, but my thighs are weathered to this kind of movement. I’ve been climbing these stairs for years. I doubt he’s climbed stairs a day in his life. He probably had an elevator in the house he grew up in too.
“Jesus,” He pants. “I take back what I said. You do need an elevator.”
“Don’t be a baby. We’re almost there.”
I lied. We’re only two floors up and still need to go four more, but I’m not about to tell him that.
When we eventually make it to the sixth floor and I turn the key, a panting Jesse practically barges past me and into my apartment. The first room you see as you open the door is my living room, and sure enough, Jesse drops himself into my black, leather recliner.
“That climb is not pleasant on an empty stomach.” He complains. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
Ignoring him, I drop my heels by the shoe rack next to the door. “Don’t get sweat on my recliner. It’s expensive,” I say as I saunter into the kitchen.
I didn’t plan to have anyone over to eat today. To be honest, my libido sort of took charge when I offered it at the restaurant. Idiot. I wish it’d taken food, or lack thereof, into account. I open the fridge and stare at the random contents inside. I have a day-old roast chicken, as well as left over beet and feta salad. I made the salad on my own and I smile proudly into my refrigerator.
“What the hell is that?” Jesse demands from his recliner.
I grab the containers of roast chicken and salad, turn around and kick the door shut with my foot. Sitting on the floor at Jesse’s feet is Four and he’s meowing his little noise—demanding to know why Jesse is in his seat. When I’m home and sitting on it, so is Four. He sleeps on it most nights and probably spends the entire day there too. I drop the containers onto the table and walk over to Four. With a husky meow, he approaches me and circles my feet. His soft fur is warm against my skin.