The Reality of You, page 25
His fingers tapped on the seat next to my ear as he stared out the window past me. “I’m not sure. He’s being persistent, but I didn’t intend to make an agreement with Kara, even with the offer of an interview with her father. The entire thing was beyond bizarre. Until she explained you, the woman who sat every day and watched me at lunch.” His gaze came back to mine. “The woman who was obsessed with me because I was a billionaire.”
Oh shit. My mouth dropped open. The past altered faster than me hitting a penalty kick. Reese’s daydream admiration would have turned into instant dislike at the realization that I wanted him because of money. And Kara had admitted saying something like that.
“Just as bizarre as the deal, I was extremely pissed, finally knowing that was the reason for your adoration. After watching you for so long, I had imagined something entirely different, something as sweet as you seemed. And though juvenile and ridiculous, I couldn’t wait to torment you, even if it were with stacks of paperwork. I decided to be cool, detached, but demanding to you. I strangely wanted to make you pay for tricking me.”
Well, he’d succeeded in each of those endeavors, I thought as his words slowly washed over me. It took me a few seconds to process—slow as usual—until the humor of him thinking me sweet hit me, and it hit me hard. A sudden, “Baaaah,” escaped me followed by another. The loud laugh had to sound worse than the cackle of a hyena.
Reese watched me with worried eyes, most likely thinking I’d lost it.
I put up a finger but had an extremely hard time reining my laughter in. “Do you have anything to drink in here?” I asked in between gasps of laughter. While I fanned my face, he poured something and handed it to me. I took a gulp and almost sprayed scotch all over him. Instead, I forced the fire liquid down my throat and gasped out, “How can you drink this crap?”
“Crap? It’s a single malt scotch from a small, exclusive distillery that my father bought years ago. I could never afford such crap on my salary.”
“Oh, then here.” I lifted the glass toward him, drawing in a much-needed, from both the laughter and the liquor, deep breath. “I don’t want to waste it.”
He took the glass, setting it on his thigh. “Care to share the humor?”
“Not really,” I said. When he continued to watch me patiently, I fell back against the seat. “Fine. I found it a bit—okay, very—funny that you were thinking of me in a sweet, romantic way, and I was all…”
He raised his brows at my pause.
“Well, I thought of things differently.”
His face remained flat and patient.
“My imagination was a bit more lustful than romantic.” I glanced out the window. “Maybe a lot lustful. Or at least it tried to be,” I added before gnawing on my lip.
“My thoughts weren’t precisely chaste.” He absently sipped at the scotch. “However, let me get this correct. Kara simply supplemented an obsession for my body with billionaire.”
“Great, “I said, staring at my hands clenched around the binder in my lap, “now instead of a money grubber, I’m a skank. I liked your face and hair too,” I added sullenly.
He watched me, a condescending look on his face.
“I wasn’t in a place… I didn’t…” I bit my lip, trying to think of a way to explain myself tactfully, but ended up blurting out the truth. “The idea of a relationship terrified me, so my imagination didn’t go there.”
“And now?” he asked in a low tone, his jaw steely.
“I just… I’m confused.” I let out stream of air. “At first, I believed this wasn’t going anywhere. It was just a few weeks of dating. Otherwise, I would have never let my guard down. Thinking we’d never get serious freed me. And I started falling for you. Hard.” His expression lost some of its stiffness at that. “Then, last Saturday, the fear of getting hurt came crashing back, blinding me to my own duplicity and pretty much everything else. Now after you explained…”
He watched me intently, waiting for me to figure it out.
“We were both rather immature and both dishonest…”
He took another slow sip of scotch, the picture of patience.
“I don’t want to…”
He waited.
“I’m terrified of getting hurt,” I finally admitted.
Without speaking, he reached across the car and set the glass down in a holder on the other side. Then he came back, gently wrapping his hands around my jaw, not allowing me to break eye contact. Up until this moment, he’d been stern, almost emotionless, but now, the eyes searching mine were warm and hopeful.
“I want you,” he said, his breath close enough to fan my face. “Every little part. You’ve been a breath of fresh air in my stale life. You don’t know the meaning of pretentious.” His thumb rubbed my jaw. “You’re always just you. A glass bottle of soda brings a warm smile to your face, you watch corny old movies with me, and dress like classic Hollywood starlets. You’re sexy as hell when you’re nervous, and there’s no place in the world I love being more than inside of you.” His thumb brushed my lip, but those words had me feeling like he’d brushed somewhere else. “My imagination wasn’t wrong about the girl on the bench. She is giving and funny and sweet and so very hot, and I can’t ever envision not wanting her.”
He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing mine, while my pounding heart began cracking the guard around it.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I understood. He wasn’t going to leave me. At least not for now, a tiny voice echoed in my head.
Watching me, reading my thoughts, he shook his head slightly and willed me to believe in him with the power of those hot hazel eyes.
I could drown in his gaze.
I was drowning in his gaze.
Unable to resist any longer—the steel around my heart melted to mush—I leaned forward, giving in to the want that had erupted in me the moment I’d entered the limo, kissing his lips, his chin, his cheek, and anywhere I could find. In between kisses, I murmured like a drunk, “I want you too. I can’t get enough of you. I love being with you.” I kissed his lips again. “I love you.”
At that last murmur, I jerked back, shocked at myself. My damn mouth and the back fodder it released!
Reese smirked at my alarmed expression then yanked me into his lap, the binder falling to the floor. His hand cradled the back of my head. “Silly, sweet girl. I was asking if you understood that I fell in love with you.”
“Oh.” I blinked at him, something between astonishment and a flutter. My mouth curled into a pout as my heart sang out of my chest. “Then say it right.”
“Demanding much?”
“Oh, I can be demanding in other ways too,” I said sweetly, nearly quoting him from that day at Berbunk.
“Is that a promise?”
“You bet your hot ass.”
“Well then,” he said, bending, his lips brushing mine as he whispered, “I love you, Naomi.”
Happiness radiated out of every pore. My heart belted out a sappy tune, surging across mountains and flying into the clouds until a soccer ball wallop of truth hit me in the head. Not all of those past failed relationships had just been the male’s fault. Though I’d ridden each one of those suckers out, even professed my love in each one, I’d never felt like this. My entire body, every cell, sang when Reese had said those words. Maybe I had wanted to be in love, but now, truly feeling it, I recognized that I’d never been.
It had taken twelve years and one man for me to see the light. Yeah, sometimes I was slow.
My hands glided into Reese’s hair as he kissed me fully, the rhythm of his tongue obliterating all contemplations of the past. When he paused for a breath, I asked, “Can we just go to your place?”
He grinned. “We should be there in a few more minutes.”
“Oh, you sly…” My eyes narrowed. “Ego much?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Usually my boxers are egotistical, but this time, it was hope.”
Okay, I could live with that. I grinned back at him. “I’d like to see those.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Your egotistical panties.”
“Boxers,” he growled.
“Whatever,” I said, pulling him by the hair toward me. “I love both you and your ego.”
“Even when it’s demanding?” he asked against my lips.
I smiled against his lips. “Especially when it’s demanding.”
Chapter 33
Reese
A few months later…
Ten minutes to noon, I shrugged on my suit coat, grabbed my briefcase, and headed out of the office for a meeting.
“Mr. Tennison rescheduled for today at one thirty,” Laura, my receptionist, reminded me as I passed the front desk.
I nodded. “I should be back before one. Just meeting with the Cooper account for an update at lunch.”
After stuffing myself inside the packed elevator, I took the escalator down to the main floor and, as usual, glanced at the empty bench amid the lobby foliage. Naomi’s sitting there, quiet and pensive and shy, would be etched in my mind forever. Usually the empty bench just brought on a feeling of nostalgia, but today, it brought on a touch of frustration.
Soccer had started. Naomi was in the midst of tryouts. She was busy. More busy than I was. Between our two conflicting schedules, I hadn’t seen her since Saturday and wouldn’t see her until Friday. When the season officially started, I would see her even less.
She was living her dream. I wanted her to live her dream. I was ecstatic for her. I could deal with it. I might be hard all the time like a fucking teenager, but I would deal with it.
Frank, the daytime security guard, nodded in greeting as I passed the main reception desk.
Outside, the humidity of the coming storm hit me like the exhaust of an airplane in my face, but Paul waited up the block in the limo. Already sweating, I pushed through the congested sidewalk traffic. Damn, it was hot. I opened the door and all thoughts of humidity left me. Really, all thoughts but a hot, scorching lust left me.
Naomi sat in the back seat, wearing…high-waisted shorts and a red-dotted halter top along with a red flower headband thing in her hair and red high heels. ‘50s fucking pinup girl in my car. ‘50s fucking pinup Naomi in my car.
I almost dropped my briefcase but instead plucked my phone from my pocket while Naomi lowered her chin and stared up at me through her lashes.
Laura answered with a chipper, “Good afternoon, J & M Advertising.”
“Cancel my lunch appointment and my one thirty.” There was a shocked silence. I never canceled anything. “I should be in by…” I looked at the woman sitting in the back of my limo brushing a naughty hand over the swell of her breasts while those lovely brown eyes of hers gleamed. My cock swelled to granite.
Naomi titled her head in contemplation then held up three fingers.
“Three,” I said in a steely tone.
“Um…okay,” Laura said slowly. “Are you—”
I slid my screen closed and slipped into the back of the limo. The heavy humidity lingered in the cool exterior for a moment as Paul pulled into traffic.
“Coming thunderstorms cancel practice?” I asked while loosening my tie.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘Lunch just became very interesting.’ ” Her red lips formed a pout as she lifted a red high heel and braced it against the door, essentially spreading those sleek, muscled legs.
My hands paused on my tie as I took in the sight of her again. The brown curls on the lush swell of her breasts. The smooth and tan line of her stomach. Those luscious legs spread wide, inviting me between them.
Her lips held their pout as I simply looked.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Apparently, we were living out one of her previous fantasies from when she’d watched me from her bench, but the outfit, the days since I’d last had her, the surprise of her in my limo, those fucking legs, and just her put me in overdrive.
“Fuck lunch,” I said, letting go of my tie and yanking her over my lap. Before she even settled, I slipped a hand under her shorts to cup a naked butt cheek.
She steadied herself with her hands on my shoulders. “Your hunger for nourishment has vanished?” she asked a little breathlessly as my fingers gripped her skin.
“Fuck lunch,” I repeated while my other hand followed the swell of her breasts, copying her earlier movement. The sensation of her skin under both of my palms was my fantasy. I’d been recalling the feel of her just before leaving my office.
Raindrops began tinging on the roof.
“Well then, I hope I’m lunch,” she said from those red-painted lips that hovered above me.
I trailed my fingers down her half shirt, across her belly, lightly over the center of her, and pushed my hand up her shorts. She was as wet as I had hoped.
“And dessert.”
She gasped as I stroked her wetness. “So I’m a fetching surprise?”
“Very surprising, very fetching.” I stroked some more. “But time for me to surprise,” I said roughly, lowering the hand on her ass until I slipped a finger in her wetness from behind.
A flash of lightning lit up her stunned expression.
“Ooooh,” she gasped as her eyes went wide and glazed from the movement of both my hands. She gripped my shoulders, rocked to the tempo I set, moaned sexily from those red lips, and then came all over my hands within minutes.
Best fucking lunch ever.
As her eyes began to deglaze, I tore the shorts from her with one hand as I yanked open my pants with the other. Then, grasping her hips, I nearly slammed her onto me as I covered her mouth with mine.
She let out another gasp into me and gripped my shoulders even harder than before.
It was fast and wild, both of us obviously having missed the other. Me, straining up into her, my hips coming far off the seat, my face buried into the swell of her breasts. Her, pounding down on me, her hands ripping at my hair. The car moving through lunch traffic. Pedestrians running to escape the storm, oblivious to the wild sex storm going on in the car.
But it wasn’t just about intense sex. The connection between us had started with lust but had grown. She’d become my footpath, my sanctuary, and my future. Being with her physically intensified these truths and took the act to another level. I’d never grow tired of this. Never grow tired of her. The day she’d found me while sitting on that bench had become my future.
After, she lay across me, fingers stroking my neck.
“So it’s still all about my body?” I asked.
“Your body,” she said, pushing up. “Your lips.” She kissed me lightly then pulled back. “Your eyes—you have the sexist eyes.” My brows rose. She smirked and lay back down against my chest. “Even that business brain of yours.” Her hand came up to the middle of my chest. “But mostly just you. I love you even more than your body, and trust me—that is a lot.”
I grinned against her temple. With all the money and resources behind my name, I had believed that I’d never find someone I’d connect with and who wanted just me much less someone I could fall in love with. When I’d watched her looking wistful and dreamy eyed, sitting on that bench, I’d begun to imagine the possibilities, some included her here with me in the back of the limo, while some of them aspired to something deeper, but never like this. I hadn’t imagined that being with someone, loving someone so intensely, could enrich my life, my future, and even me. She made me want to play the piano again. She made me believe in the loving memories of my parents. She made me realize that love was real. She made me rich.
My arms tightened around her. “You know, if we’re going to play out your fantasies, you might want to give me a script ahead of time.”
A soft laugh escaped her as she shook her head. “Naw, no script. The reality of you is so much better than anything I’ve ever imagined.”
My lips brushed the top of her head. “The reality of us is better than we either imagined.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, I’d like to thank my awesome beta readers, Lisa, Melissa, and Lara. Your input was invaluable. I’d also like to thank Mickey Reed for her wonderful edits. Also, thank you to all the wonderful bloggers for all the hard work you do. And as always thanks to every reader who gave my work a chance. You rock!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jean Haus is the author of the Luminescent Juliet series, which revolves around a sexy, talented indie band from a small college town. She also writes romance for adults and young adults. She lives with her husband and son in Michigan, where she spends almost as much time teaching, cooking, and golfing as she does thinking about the romance in her books.
Visit Jean online at
Webpage
Other Novels by Jean Haus
New Adult Contemporary from Skyscape
In the Band
Ink My Heart
With the Band
Young Adult Paranormal/Fantasy
Under a Blood Moon
After Midnight
Snow, Blood, and Envy
Young Adult Contemporary
Sleeping Handsome
Happily Ever After?
Jean Haus, The Reality of You
