“Bedroom, of course,” he says with a sultry voice.
“Really? And what will happen when I show you my bedroom?” My voice drops to a husky tone this time.
“I’ve had this fantasy for a while now. You, on your bed, naked. Me between your legs with your cock deep in my throat…” Growling at his suggestive words, I step closer to him, leaning down, our mouths a breath apart. I’m about to kiss him when my head slams down onto my desk.
For fuck’s sake. I fell asleep.
I blink a few times to clear my vision, trying very hard not to think about that fucking dream. My unsatisfied dick now aches just as much as my head does. Fuck,how is my attraction to this guy now bleeding into my subconscious? I do not have time for a crush, I’m too fucking old for a crush.
As I shut down my laptop for the night, the only light left in the office is coming from the lamp on my desk. The rest of the room is bathed in darkness. My gaze drifts to the bottom drawer of my desk as it often does in moments like this when I’m alone, and it’s been a ball-ache of a day. ‘One drink won’t hurt’, the temptation whispers as I scrub my hand over my face. I know I should get rid of it. If there wasn’t a bottle of Jack in that drawer, my eyes wouldn’t keep drifting toward it. The temptation wouldn’t have anything to say. Well, it probably would. It would tell me to go to the bar across the road and have that nightcap or try to convince me to stop at the liquor store on the way home.
Not having the bottle in the drawer makes no difference, but every day that I stand up and walk out of the office without taking a drink feels like one more victory. So, as I switch off the lamp and lock the office door, at least I can say that I made it another day without opening that bottle.
Pulling up to my apartment building, for what weirdly feels like the second time tonight, my eyes look around for the beat-up Honda like he might actually be here, and my dream was some kind of premonition. Jesus, I really am losing it.The last thing I need is to gain another vice, and I have a feeling that Pete Cliffer could easily become my biggest addiction.
CHAPTER 3
PETE
I wake up to the sound of my alarm going off. George Michael sings his catchy tune ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ and I stretch with a smile on my face. The shit show that was yesterday completely forgotten. Today is a new day.
Drew took me to his place after picking me up, wet and miserable from the side of the road. He gave me some dry clothes and a large glass of wine to help me decompress from that epic fail of a day. By the time Ryan came back, I was already through the first bottle of a delicious rosé and had perfected an interpretive dance to describe to him the way the large wooden bookcases tipped to their doom because I was fantasizing about a brown bear.
Once the tears had cleared from his vision and his sides stopped hurting from laughing, Ry told me to go home, have a good beauty sleep, and come to the studio first thing this morning. That he had the perfect solution to all my problems. So here I am, doing my morning yoga with a moisturizing mask on my face. I must be flexible and dewy.
“Okay, why are you doing yoga without me?” Jordan asks from above me as I’m in a pretzel pose.
“I’m on a busy schedule today, so I had to start early,” I explain. “I am not about to make the mistake of waking you up before your alarm again. My eyebrows have just about grown back.”
“Oooohhh, so that’s why Wham interrupted my sexy dream?” Jordan teases me, but I know what his alarm sounds like. Every morning, I can hear how girls just want to have fun. Cyndi Lauper can get me out of bed just as efficiently as George.
“So, you didn’t tell me how you did on your first day?” He yawns loudly, and I fight my brain not to follow suit.
“Oh right, you don’t know.” I sit on my heels, trying to find words. “Well, I kind of caused an avalanche in the library, so they fired me.”
“Pete, oh my God.” He laughs. “It was a library. Literally nothing dangerous. How on earth could you do something so they would fire you on your first day?”
“It’s not my fault the shelves were not attached to the floor.” I laugh along with him because what else can I do?
“Oh, sweetheart, everyone knows that.” His eyes are full of tears from laughing at my dysfunctional ass.
“Fine, I knew that. I was daydreaming and leaned against one. Next second, it was like a freaking giant game of dominoes.”
“Only you, my friend, only you.” We laugh, but moments later, he gasps, sitting upright and turning pale. “Please tell me you didn’t destroy my pearls.”
“I protected them with my body. I even got bruises to prove it, look.” I show him my bruised hip.
“They were on your neck, not on your dick, right?” If he can joke about his pearls, I know it’s all good.
“What matters the most is that they’re intact and safe on top of my dresser.” I purposely don’t answer his question just to torment him a bit longer.
“If they were anywhere near your dick, you need to sanitize them. I love you and all, but hell no!” He makes a gagging sound, and I laugh on my way to my room to get ready for what I’m hoping is a job interview at Savage Ink.
Knowing I need to make a great first impression, I spend my time in the shower planning the perfect outfit and practicing my customer service smile when a fantastic idea hits me. Rushing out of the bathroom and skidding on the wet tiles, I grab my phone.
Me:Remember that time when you were bringing coffee to Savage Ink?
Drew:I don’t have Alzheimer’s yet. It wasn’t so long ago. Why?
