“Well, that’s oversimplified, but from the outside looking in, yeah.”
“But what you don’t know is that he’s an incredible son. Seeing him take care of his mother showed me how he’ll take care of me.”
I press my hand to my heart, touching the place where the truth about him glows like a filament.
“He’s a loyal friend, and he has a conscience even when it’s not convenient,” I say. “You don’t know that when we make love, he whispers poetry. He makes me feel treasured. He’d die for me, and without thinking twice, I would die for him, too.”
My words dangle in the air, defying gravity, and Charm is looking at me like she’s never seen me before, like I’m a stranger. Compared to the self-absorbed, vapid girl she knew years ago, I probably am. I’m a new creature, and Grip has undoubtedly had a hand in refashioning me. I’m a little embarrassed when I replay my words. Charm and I haven’t really talked like this in a long time, and I just poured my heart down her throat like a vodka tonic.
“I get why you’re tempted to define him with easy labels, but he . . . well, Grip defies defining.” I shrug and offer a self-conscious laugh. “You’ll get it when you meet him.”
“Then I’m about to get it.” Charm’s eyes lock onto something over my shoulder and light up like a kid sniffing cotton candy. “Hello there. Grip, I presume?”
I glance over my shoulder to the apartment entrance. Grip stands there, a huge suitcase on wheels trailing him.
How long has he been there? Did he hear me gushing about him like a lovesick teenager?
Lines of fatigue bracket the decadent spread of his lips, like he hasn’t had much sleep. A thin layer of stubble hugs the jut of his jaw, like he hasn’t had a shave, and his dark eyes rove over my breasts, my legs, and my face, like he hasn’t had me in thirteen days. From ten feet away, he’s eating me alive, and the memory of our last morning together crowds out the present. The phantom strokes of his hands over me, how he licked greedily at my body’s secrets—it all rushes back. If Charm weren’t here, I’d already be wrapped around him like a koala in heat.
“Guess I’m in the right place.” He spares Charm a quick glance and a polite smile before looking back to me, his eyes going gentler and hotter. “Hey babe.”
The hell if I care what Charm thinks. I’m up and across the few feet separating us. My arms slink up behind his neck and I press into him, so solid, so here after two weeks of absence. He drops the handle of the suitcase to lock his hands low on my hips, barely a decent distance from my ass, and lowers his head to kiss me. It should be quick. I’m aware of Charm watching us and of her mother and the owner of this lovely apartment mere minutes away, but as soon as I taste him, there’s no stopping. He persuades my lips open, his groan vibrating on my tongue and sliding into my chest. He creeps one hand up and into my hair, bunching it in his fist. My hands venture under the leather jacket he’s wearing and I dig my fingers through the soft cotton of his shirt into the dense muscles of his back.
He slows the kiss when we’re temporarily sated, but sexual energy still powers the connection between us. He pulls back, glancing over my shoulder at Charm, and quirks love-bitten lips into a rueful grin.
“Sorry, we haven’t seen each other in a while.” He pulls me into his side, one arm draped over my shoulder. “You must be Charm. Nice to meet you.”
Charm’s cheeks are positively pink, and I’d know that flush anywhere. In college, the girl didn’t have a spank bank so much as a vibrator vault. I know how many batteries she used to go through.
“Charm, you don’t get to think about this tonight when you’re alone.” My voice is light, but I narrow my eyes so she knows I’m dead serious. Grip will not feature in her fantasies—I forbid it.
“Ahem.” Charm practically floats to her feet and glides over, hand extended. If she curtsies, I’m kneeing her in the vagina. “I’ve heard so much about you, and none of it did you justice.”
Grip’s mouth tightens against what I suspect is laughter. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”
“Have you heard that I really want to do a book deal with you?” Charm shifts from slut muffin to shrewd businesswoman-editor- person with whiplash swiftness. “I suspect come December your Grammy nom will be announced. May as well start on New York Times bestseller, too.”
“Charm, we’re here to look at the apartment,” I remind her. “Not ink a deal.”
Who can think about business at a time like this, when I’m snuggled into my boyfriend’s hard body and surrounded by his addictive scent?
“Knock, knock.” A living, breathing prediction of Charm in twenty years pokes her head into the apartment entrance. “Anybody home?”
“Mother.” Charm teeters on her Manolos, making her way over to Bridget Simmons, offering air kisses that come close to actually landing on her cheeks. “You look amazing.”
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Bridget practically purrs. “I’ve been doing Pure Barre.”
“It shows,” Charm says admiringly. “Where’s Mrs. O’Malley?”
“Not far behind me, I’m sure.” She smiles over at Grip and me. “Hullo, darlings. You must be Grip. Nice to meet you. Bristol, come, come.”
Her hands bid me, flashing diamonds and drawing me into her Chanel-scented bosom.
“Hello, Mrs. Simmons.” I do the perfunctory air kisses we were trained to perfectly execute in finishing school. “Thank you for helping me this week. This property is gorgeous.”
“Isn’t it just?” Bridget takes in the spacious living room and the glimpses of the city skyline it affords. “The owner wants to leave it furnished, if that’s not a problem.”
“Grip arrived just before you did, so we haven’t had a chance to look around yet.” I reclaim my spot beside him, tucking into his side, a wave of want and need slamming into me like a blow. The tension of his body tells me he’s suffering from the same deprivation I am.