But tonight, with the echo of music and sparklers bouncing off the buildings, and the sound of laughter and celebrations shouted from the sidewalks outside, my tiny space felt lonely for the first time since I’d arrived.
Without turning on any lights, I stripped as I made my way to the bathroom and stepped into the cramped shower. I stood under the hot spray and closed my eyes, hoping the sound of water would drown out the noise in my head.
It didn’t work. My muscles were tense and sore and the subtle ache between my legs made it almost impossible for my thoughts to not continually circle back to Max.
I’d never been the type of girl to obsess over a man before, but that was definitely what seemed to be happening. Max wasn’t only gorgeous, he was nice. And I knew it was the sex that made us truly compatible. I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around my newfound obsession with being watched by him—maybe even also by others—but that need pushed up like steam beneath my skin: warm, and exciting, and impossible to ignore.
And Max seemed to accept it, embrace it even, as easily as he did everything else.
Where my relationship with Andy had been only for public display, Max seemed to have tapped into my unfamiliar desire to be watched while respecting my need for privacy. For as much as Max was the playboy and seemed to be wrong for me in every possible way, he was letting me experience something I never would have felt safe enough to try with Andy. Was it really that simple? Was I keeping Max at arm’s length because it was the opposite of everything I had with Andy? My relationship with Andy had false depth and lacked any spark. My relationship with Max was intentionally simple, and even seeing him from a distance made it feel like a torch ignited in my chest.
I turned off the water, suddenly too warm. For a beat, I regretted not still being with Max. I’d squandered the chance to touch his skin, taste his sounds, and feel his weight over me all night long.
But when I walked into my bedroom and studied my reflection in the mirror on my closet door, I looked suddenly unfamiliar to myself. I stood straighter, blinked less, watched more. Even I could see there was some wisdom in my eyes that hadn’t been there before.
Ten
“I still don’t understand why you’re coming with me today.”
I bit back a smile as I met Will’s annoyed expression in the mirrored doors of the elevator, ignoring the curious glances we’d earned from some of the other passengers around us. He hit the button for the eighteenth floor.
My attention lingered on the label beside it: RYAN MEDIA GROUP. “You know how much I enjoy seeing you in action. Fish in a barrel or whatever it is you Americans say.”
“First of all,” he said, quieter now, “you’re using that wrong, and nobody says that anymore. And second, you’re full of shit. You have a hundred other meetings this week; I know you’re swamped. Why on earth are you coming to this? It’s not anything I need you for.”
“You’re right, technically I don’t need to be here, but I’ve seen you in these kinds of meetings before, mate. Someone starts talking about neurotransmitter somethings or chemical scaffolds and it’s like you’ve smoked a blunt. Just here to make sure you don’t geek out on us all and agree to some ridiculous budget.”
“I do not geek out.”
“No, of course you don’t,” I said. “And weren’t you the one going on about great contacts? I’ll spend some time chatting up Bennett while we’re here and kill two birds with one stone, yeah?”
I couldn’t even swallow my own excuse; I wasn’t used to feeling this out of my depth with women. I certainly wasn’t used to sneaking around like a bloody teenager in order to catch a few minutes alone with one. This thing with Sara was engineered to be simple, but right now it felt anything but. A few hours ago I’d thought I had it all figured out: tag along to the meeting at RMG, use Bennett as an excuse should Will question, and if luck was on my side, run into Sara on a Monday rather than having to wait all the way until Friday. Spending time with her outside of our arrangement had spoiled me. Getting a wank in the back of a cab hadn’t hurt, either. But now I felt conflicted, wondering if I was asking for trouble by blurring the lines like this.
The doors opened and Will turned to me. “As long as you understand that this is my show. You just sit there and look smart.”
“Mr. Sumner, Mr. Stella,” the receptionist greeted us. “Nice to see you again.” She led us down the hall to the large conference room lined with windows, New York poised like a postcard on the other side. “Mr. Ryan is on his way down.”
“Seems like a shame to spend your free afternoon here when you could be visiting your mysterious little sex kitten,” Will said when we were alone again.
I walked over to the window and looked down at the traffic on the street below. “What makes you think she’s free in the afternoon?”
Will began going through his papers and I took a seat at the long table, letting my mind wander to the last time I’d been in this building. I’d been chasing after her that day, too, though admittedly not that much had changed. Sure, I’d spent time with her, f**ked her and tasted her and touched practically every inch of her body, but I was no closer to understanding what was going on in that pretty little head now than I was then.
The sound of voices carried down the hall and I looked up just as Bennett walked inside.
“Will,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Thanks for coming down.” He gave me a curious smile. “Max. Wasn’t expecting to see you today. You joining in on our discussion of B&T Biotech?”
It was impossible to miss the smug look of satisfaction on Will’s face. Both he and Bennett knew I’d only scraped my way through biochemistry by flirting with the professor, Dr. William Haverston. They loved to reminisce about the “boyfriend I almost had.”
“He’s just full of surprises,” Will said.
“He certainly is,” Bennett agreed. I hadn’t really considered the Bennett angle. It had been a few weeks since the fund-raiser, but I couldn’t help but wonder whether he knew I was here more for Sara and less for discussion of the latest in proteomics.
“I think you’re both a couple of tossers,” I mumbled.
There was a flurry of activity as the others filed in; unfortunately for my attempt at maintaining a cool front, Sara was the last through the door. She looked amazing, and as Bennett made the introductions, I let my gaze travel up the length of her body. Navy skirt, cute little pink sweater over the gentle swell of her br**sts, and a neck I wanted to suck on for hours.