SEXT

“I wouldn’t object. No.” I raise an eyebrow.

He breaks into a grin too. Then he grabs my hands and pulls me upright. Without warning, he hoists me up, tossing me back over his shoulder and slapping my ass on the way up. “Good. Because I had some plans of my own in mind. And they do not involve letting this sexy little minx get away just yet…”

I squeal and kick my legs in faux distress as he carries me back to the bedroom. Frankly, I could get used to this.

6

By Monday morning, I’m starting to wonder if you can get addicted to orgasms. I’ve had more than I can count on both hands in the last two days. Between Zayne tying me to his bedposts with a couple of T-shirts to eat me out, then him fucking me bent over his kitchen table, and finally against his balcony window, where half of New York could probably see if they looked up at the right moment, and where our neighbor across the street could definitely see if they opened their windows, I had no idea I could get so turned on so fast by someone.

In between fucking, we took breaks to watch a couple of movies. He’s got great taste in films, preferring older film noir above all else. We watched a few I’d never seen, like Double Indemnity which involved some hot-as-hell hookup scenes that led to us getting distracted and fucking again before we switched to watching Chinatown.

Our conversation after Chinatown was almost as good as the fucking, though. He spent an hour dissecting the movie with me, savoring all the minute details, letting me rewind to gush over certain scenes. I love doing that when I watch movies—it makes me feel like they last longer, like they’re books I can slowly digest. I’d never met anyone else who was interested in doing that. Mostly my exes just humored me when I insisted on it.

But Zayne? Zayne not only enjoys it, but after that, he encouraged me to do it with every movie we watched afterwards. We spent hours on each one, and while that would normally make me feel like a total nerd, with him it just felt normal. Like comparing these movies to our lives and dissecting each one was a perfectly cool, natural thing to do.

He cooked the whole time too, and I swear, each meal tasted better than the last. He made me a veggie curry for lunch, then steaks for dinner, and leftover steak and eggs for breakfast the next morning. Who needs NYC brunch when you have your own personal chef and sexy sex master in house?

But Monday arrived, as it always does. With it came the responsibilities I’d been avoiding. A shit ton of reading that I’ll need to catch up on all morning, plus all the work drama that led me to complaining to Zayne last Friday, which I still need to handle.

But somehow, after this weekend of retreating into the Zayne bubble, I feel more ready to face it than ever. I feel energized, recharged, ready to tackle the whole world if I need to. What could possibly go wrong? I’ve finally found a decent guy who’s in my corner– and in my bed, for that matter.

When I leave that morning, Zayne walks me downstairs. “Back on the clock?” I ask him in the elevator. I already know this was one of his rare weekends off.

He nods. “Going to have to work a double today to make up for skiving on Sunday.”

My cheeks flush. He skipped because I asked him to. Not that he complained too much. But as I realize now what it’s going to cost him, it makes me feel guilty. Schedules here are crazy. I can’t believe how little time off he gets, either. Someone should really complain to the management company about that, I think as we step into the elevator. I make a mental note to do that later.

“Sorry again that you’ll have to make up time.”

“Please.” He scoffs, and stops me before we reach the main lobby, and any other prying eyes. “Clove. I cannot explain to you in words how worth it it was to skip that day.” His eyes bore into mine, and I let myself sink into them. I close my eyes as he leans in to kiss me softly. “I would skip Sunday again and again. I’d work every double from now until Christmas if it meant I could spend more time with you in between.”

My cheeks flush, a not unpleasant sensation. I lean up to kiss him again, and savor the way our lips meld together, so naturally. “Well. Next time I’ll make sure to work around your schedule instead, how’s that?”

“Deal.” He laughs softly before kissing me once more. Then we lock hands, and head for the main lobby.