Chapter 1
Amaris
“Oh my god, I’m such a slut,” I groaned, pushing my hair into a coil-filled ponytail on top of my head. “I should just call this whole thing off.”
“Um, no the hell you will not. One, you’re not a slut. You just have a fine ass boss who likes to forget he’s married from time to time. And two you need some fun,” my sister Aime reminded me from where she stood in my bedroom.
I ducked my head into the room from the bathroom. “Still makes me a slut.”
“Girl bye, just think of it this way. If you’re spending Valentine’s weekend with her husband on some freaky shit,then who is she spending the weekend with?” Aime waved me off. “The way I see it, everybody is getting fucked this weekend except me. I’ll be working the emergency room, seeing all of the embarrassed expressions as people flow through with various things lodged in either their rectums or vaginas. Don’t be one of them. Please.” Aime was a resident at the hospital near our home and also my only form of entertainment because she always came home with workplace drama. It was like Grey’s, except it was McFine-Ass and the YNs.
I laughed and went back to getting myself ready to depart.
“I’m serious, Ama. We crack jokes about these people. I would die if my baby sister was brought in. I wouldn’t live it down. Promise me you won’t put any strange things in any of your holes.”
I cackled. “I promise.”
“And I don’t fucking believe you. Don’t let them bring you to my hospital, slut.”
I ducked back into the bedroom. “I thought you said I wasn’t a slut?” My eyes were on my sister’s because lord knows I really wanted to call this off. Screw the thought of being less predictable and how much I wanted that man between my legs.
“I always call you a slut, Ama. Tighten up, pooh. You know you want this. What are you afraid of?” She moved around my bed into the washroom with me.
“That it will get back to the office. That this wi?—”
“It won’t. Because only you and him know about it, right? Stop being such a worrywart and see what’s to the weekend. It’s not like you have anything else to do. Have fun and enjoy yourself. Get stuffed like a potato for both of us.”
I gave her one last look before I nodded and turned to finish my hair. I spent the rest of my time silently trying not to think about it.
When I finished thumbing through my hair and overthinking, despite trying not to, it dawned on me that I’d missed the window to call this off. It had indeed come and gone. That was indicated when my phone rang briefly, indicating I had a text message. When I pulled it out, I saw a message from him.
Mr. Johnson: I’m downstairs, you ready?
My eyes threatened to jump from my face, like this man hadn’t texted me a million times before. This was nothing new…well, the concept was.
“Get it together, Amaris. It’s one weekend and it’s not like you didn’t already want to do it.” I gave myself a pep talk. Things like his marriage, my morals, and the fact that we worked together always seemed to get in the way.
Me: On my way down there.
I pushed the side button on the side of my phone and slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans. I gave myself one more once over in the mirror before exiting my bathroom. My bedroom was empty, given Aime’s desertion fifteen minutes ago for her shift at the hospital. She made me promise to call her when I could…which I would.
I grabbed my duffle bag from the bed, leaned down, and nuzzled my nose against my cat Salem. Then I was out of the door.
More overthinking happened in the elevator, but the ride from the fifth to first floor wasn’t long enough for me to change my mind and stand in it. Even though I was nervous, I was curious and had been since he’d asked if I was interested months ago. A random summons to his office had me looking at him differently and living on pins and needles for months, wondering what this weekend would entail.
I finally made it to the lobby of my building where the wall might as well be made of glass. There wasn’t a single space where a window didn’t show too much and the sun blasted the lobby every morning. I spotted him immediately, parked right out front in the handicapped space. He leaned against the hood of his charcoal gray BMW with his phone to his ear and amusement evident in his handsome features.
The entire time I walked toward the door, I took him in. Apparently he’d spotted me as well. The moment I pushed through the doors, he pushed off his car and opened the passenger side with his free hand.
My eyes locked with his before they traveled down my frame and he licked those thick ass lips with a slight shake of his head. When I was close enough, he grabbed my duffle while laughing into his phone.
“Yeah, Joe. I hear you talking, but a deal is a deal. I tore that ass up on the course. You take the client.”
Had I mentioned how the sexy, very married boss of mine was a lawyer? Well, a street dude turned lawyer and one of the smartest men I knew.
Julian was six feet two, with the most beautiful chocolate skin and most serious eyes. They were piercing, the same color as a fresh pixie from Fannie Mae. Today, instead of his normal suit and tie, he opted for an olive Nike tech fit, something that made him look less like a lawyer and more like a hood nigga who ate Cheetos for lunch and spent evenings in his Charger behind illegal tints with a pistol on his thigh.
I slid into the passenger seat then he shut the door behind me and rounded the front of the car, phone still glued to the side of his face.
