He closed his eyes briefly, a spark racing through him with the possibility. Was she reminiscing about the things they’d done on the balcony or was there more to it? He stood up, walked to the door and slid it open. With his heart in his throat and hope winding its way through his bones, he crossed the distance to the railing, and looked down.
His heart stopped, and then started again, thumping hard against his chest with desire, happiness, and mad love.
She was the most beautiful sight in the world. But it wasn’t the stockings and the heels, the skirt or the little tank top. It wasn’t even her hair falling in waves along her shoulders. It was the two humongous suitcases, one on each side of her. She waved at him as his phone rang.
“My driver left me here on the sidewalk with all my things. Don’t suppose you know a big strong man who could help me carry them upstairs to my new home?”
He grinned like a crazy man. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Within seconds—okay, maybe a minute—he was downstairs, looking both ways, and sprinting across the street to her. He gathered her in his arms, and it was like coming home. Her body melted into his as she roped her arms around his neck, and they kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed.
Finally, they pulled apart, but neither one let go. He needed to hold her. To feel her. To know she was real. He ran his hands along her bare arms. The feel of her skin was some kind of magic. He bent his head to her neck, inhaling her scent, the delicious, intoxicating smell of the woman he craved in every way. He lifted a hand to her hair, threading his fingers around her gorgeous flames. The sound of her sweet happy sigh was a shot of pure joy to his heart. She was here. She’d said yes.
“I made sure my flight had Wi-Fi so I could surprise you. Did you think I was in San Francisco the whole day? The time on my laptop was set to Pacific until I landed.”
He nodded. “I did, and I take it there’s no vintage scotch arriving between four and five?”
“I’m the vintage scotch. I hope you like your surprise.”
“You taste better than any scotch, than anything I’ve ever had to eat or drink. So you’re here to stay?” he asked, needing to hear it from her.
She nodded. “I’m here to stay.”
“No more running.”
“No more running,” she repeated.
“We’re together.”
“Absolutely.”
“Which reminds me . . . it’s been a week.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Why do you think I wore a skirt?”
A bolt of pure lust slammed through his body. “Fuck me now,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair.
“That’s sort of the plan,” she said, tipping her forehead to the door to his building. Their building.
“Get inside,” he growled, lifting a heavy suitcase in each hand. She grinned seductively and strutted across the street, glancing behind to watch him watching her. So perfect, so sexy, so beautiful for him. Once inside the elevator, he pressed the button for the fifth floor.
She reached past him, and hit the stop button. “We’re not getting off ‘til we get off.”
He shook his head appreciatively. “You are my woman. You always have been. You always will be,” he said, then reached under her skirt, pulled her panties down and slid his fingers across her. She was ready, oh so ready.
She was eager too, judging from how quickly her nimble little fingers had unzipped his jeans. “You did miss me,” he said playfully.
“So fucking much,” she said as she guided him between her legs.
He lifted her thigh, hitching her leg around his hip, and sliding home. “Oh God.” She gasped, dropping her head back, and rolling her eyes in pleasure.
“Don’t ever forget, Julia. I can always do this to you,” he said, in a hot whisper in her ear as he thrust into her.
“I know. I want it always.”
“We have all of Manhattan for fucking. We have restaurants and bars, and theaters and museums, and I’m going to want to take you everywhere.”
“No pun intended,” she said, in between sexy little moans and pants.
“Take you and take you,” he added. “Fuck you and make love to you. I’m not going to hold back. I’m going to seduce you all over this city, and make you come every single day and night.”
“Please do,” she said, her voice rising higher, her breath coming faster.
“All the time,” he said, gripping her thigh harder, driving deeper. She responded by running her hands up his spine, and digging her fingernails deep into his skin.
“Leave marks on me,” he told her, and she dug in harder. “I want scratch marks from you.”
“You feel so fucking good, you’re going to get them, Clay. Oh God, you’re going to get them,” she said, holding on tight and hard, dragging her nails along his muscles as she cried out, rocking her hips against his as she came, and soon, he chased her there with his own orgasm.
He wrapped his arms around her, needing to hold her, even in the stalled elevator. He layered kisses on her neck, already hot and sweaty. “Julia, I won’t always take you hard like that, but sometimes I’m going to have to,” he whispered.
“You better take me hard, and you better take me slow, and you better make love to me all night long,” she said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Hers were both fierce, and full of love.
“That’s a promise, and I keep my promises to you,” he said, running his thumb along her cheek.
“I know you do. That’s why I’m here to stay.”
That’s where he always wanted her.
EPILOGUE
Two Months Later
“What can I get for you?”
The pair of young women in slouchy tops revealing bare shoulders had parked themselves in the burgundy bar stools at Speakeasy, where Julia was now a part-owner. They perused the cocktail menu, and then the blonde one lifted her face to Julia, the look in her eyes full of excitement. “Can you make the Purple Snow Globe? We heard this is the only bar where we can get it made fresh,” she said, emphasizing that last word like it was made of sweet sugar. “I served some at a party last week from the store and everyone loved it, but we wanted to try the real thing.”
“And I will be delighted to make it for you. But I should let you know, this isn’t the only bar. There’s a little place in San Francisco called Cubic Z that also makes a Purple Snow Globe, so if you ever find yourself out west, you know where to go,” she said, and started mixing.
“Our friends are going to be so jealous. Everyone is loving this drink,” the woman said.
“I’m thrilled to hear that.”
After she set down the drinks, she headed to the back of the bar to retrieve more napkins. Along the way, her phone buzzed in her pocket, so she grabbed it. There was a text from Kim.
How’s business? Booming as always, like it is here?
Julia tapped out an answer. Always. She dropped her phone back into her pocket, glad that Craig had taken over behind the bar for her. She still owned a stake in Cubic Z, but Craig had needed a job, and her move had given him the perfect chance to help his wife while she was busy with the newborn. Charlie hadn’t been heard from, and while Julia and Clay had toyed with spreading a nasty rumor on Yelp about Charlie’s chicken, they’d decided not to. Charlie was a man not to be messed with, so they’d chosen to leave him and his chicken in the past. But Julia couldn’t deny she was pleased when her sister forwarded along a few new online reviews for Mr. Pong’s that all noted the restaurant was less popular at lunch these days. Seemed that Charlie had lost a good portion of his venture capital patrons at the restaurant. Hunter with the laughing tell might have been kicked out of the poker circuit, but had managed the last word after all, telling his friends to find a new haunt for their kung pao chicken hankerings, hitting Charlie where it hurt him most.