It’s more than a dare.
I feel her chest rise and fall beneath my hand. I caress the soft flesh of her breast with my fingertips. Barely. Her skin there is as smooth as I always knew it would be and warmer than I had ever imagined. She is achingly beautiful, and I am aching to see and touch and taste and excite every inch of her. But there is a wild, passionate girl living inside that ballet-conditioned body. As soon as I connect with that part of her, I will be tested in a way that I’ve never been tested before.
She glances down and sees the part of me that is beyond ready to meet her energy where it lives.
Her lips curl into a grin because she knows the part of me that’s in charge has no intention of touching more bare skin on her body yet.
I glance over at the rearview mirror and catch Richard’s bulging eyes reflected in it before they shift back to the road ahead.
I lean in to whisper in her ear: “Have I done my fifteen percent for the day yet?”
She rolls her eyes and pushes my hand away. I ruined the moment. She expected me to. I did it on purpose. I’m not going to have sex with her in the back of my car while Richard is driving. He’d crash the car, and the night would be ruined. I have loftier goals for our first time together, so it’s worth sacrificing the moment.
“I enjoyed that—thank you,” I say. “I like your hands.”
“Then you should really enjoy it when I strangle you with them,” she quips. Then she grins as I adjust myself. “I liked having your hand in the general area of my boob.”
“Noted.”
“And to be clear,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, “I am open to having not-fake sex with you.”
“Thank you for being clear.”Booyah.“All in good time.”
I don’t even think about checking my phone for the rest of the drive home.
The neighborhood in which I bought my house isn’t outrageously fancy, but it’s very nice and it’s in a highly sought-after location. I watch Olivia’s face as Richard slows down in the cul-de-sac and signals before turning into the driveway. I don’t need her validation; I just want her to enjoy what I have to offer.
I’d seen so many of my colleagues blow their wad right out of the gate, burning out in the lifespan of a firefly. I made a decision to be as frugal as possible after the first round of funding for Brainy Biz, and I have absolutely no regrets about this purchase. I have no desire to buy another house in Palo Alto, no matter how much more money I make.
It’s a four-bedroom, mid-century modern bungalow, with clean lines and a lot of windows at the rear of the house. The front face of the house is charcoal gray with a lemon-yellow door. Private, with excellent landscaping and good night lighting. It’s well designed, and I’m proud of it. Moreimportantly, I feel good here, and I’ve always had a feeling Olivia will feel good here too.
Richard opens the car door for her, and I get her overnight bag from the trunk as she steps out into the quiet night, sighing. She waits for me to lead her up the path to the front door. “I love the yellow door,” she says, as I unlock it and then disarm the security system.
“It’s an Eichler,” I tell her as we step into the living room.
She looks up at the high arched beam and decking ceiling, clearly impressed.
I stare at her elongated bare neck and think about kissing it. But instead I say, “He’s a famous architect. He designed this house.”
“I know who Joseph Eichler is.” She’s not quite snapping at me. It’s more of a verbal slap on the wrist.
This pleases me. “You do? I thought you only cared about dancers.”
She smiles and shakes her head as she reaches out to touch the orchids on the coffee table. They’re real. “I’m not that boring. I do have a Pinterest board called ‘Dream Homes,’ and most of the images are of Eichler houses.”
“Well, then. Welcome to your dream home.”
“It’s funny—I never really picturedyouin it.”
“In an Eichler?”
“No, inmydream home.”
“Well, like I said, I’m afraid you just haven’t been aiming high enough.”
She doesn’t smile like I thought she would, but she doesn’t scowl either. I’ll take it. “I can see why you thought my place was such a dump.”
“I didn’t say it was a dump. It’s charming. I’ll show you the guest room, and then you can check out the kitchen.” I hold up her overnight bag and gesture for her to follow me.
