Grind (Cal and Macy's Story 2)

"Is this the woman you're seeing?" Camille practically shrieks as she stomps toward Macy and me. I cringe, knowing that her voice just carried down the hall, and I only hope it didn't go as far as Mac's office. The last thing I need is for her to come running in here to see what's going on.

"This is my place of business," I hiss in a low voice, releasing my grasp on Macy and taking Camille by the elbow. I pull her toward the door and with barely controlled fury, I grit out, "And you are way out of line. Now you need to leave, and I think it's best you don't come back."

"Wait, Cal," Camille pleads as she grabs onto my arms. "I'm sorry. I just got a little crazy is all."

I don't listen to it, my capacity for gentleness and patience completely obliterated. I take her by the arm and lead her out of my office, telling Macy with a pointed look, "Don't move."

I march Camille down the hallway, take a right, down another hallway, two lefts, and then we're in the lobby. I ignore the startled look on the receptionist's face and lead Camille right up to the elevator door. When we reach it, I release her and murmur, "Good-bye, Camille."

She opens her mouth to say something but then she's forgotten. I have no clue what is running through Macy's head right now... finding Camille straddling my lap. I need to go do damage control.

Which becomes impossible when I reach my office and find Macy is gone... clearly not interested in my excuses or explanations. My heart sinks as I realize that my date tonight is most definitely cancelled. My head hangs low as I walk slowly back to my desk, figuring I might as well work late since I won't be getting any.

As I sit down in my chair, I look up at my laptop and then a huge smile takes over my face.

Written in red lipstick on my screen, it says, See you at seven tonight.

Chapter 18

The look on Macy's face when she opens her apartment door to me is priceless. Her eyes go round as she takes in the huge bouquet of purple irises in my hand.

She's utterly adorable when her hand flutters to her gold necklace, and she whispers, "For me?"

"No," I say with a sarcastic grin. "For your little Pomeranian puppy that probably wears a diamond collar worth a million dollars."

Her sexy lips peel back into a bright smile and she fucking giggles.

Macy Carrington fucking giggles.

"I don't have a Pomeranian," she chides as she steps back for me to enter. "And if I did have a dog, it would be something big and brutish--like a Rottweiler."

"Now that surprises the shit out of me," I remark as I step through the entryway. "You're blowing all of my stereotypes of elegant, rich women out of the water."

"You seriously brought flowers?" she asks again as she reaches for the bouquet.

"I believe it's a time-honored tradition for first dates," I quip as I release them into her hold. She turns from me and heads into a beautiful kitchen done in a French bistro decor complete with whitewashed cabinets, black-and-white tiled flooring, and black granite countertops.

"Do you find it odd," she muses as she sets the flowers down on the center island and reaches into a cupboard for a vase, "that we've fucked like rabid animals several times and yet you're bringing me first-date flowers?"

"Hell yes, I find it odd," I admit to her... charmingly, of course. "But then again, Miss Carrington, you are about as far from the norm as possible."

She doesn't respond as she puts water in the crystal vase, and then spends a few moments arranging the flowers within them. She chews on her bottom lip as she fluffs at the stalks, pushing some in deeper while pulling others out. Within just a few minutes, it looks like a professional floral design straight out of Architectural Digest.

When it's to her liking, she turns around to face me, leaning back against the island. Her hands come up to grip the edge, and she tilts her head a bit. "This is just very weird for me."

"Guys don't normally bring you flowers?"

"They're the first ones I've ever received," she says flatly. "This is the first 'date' I've ever been on."

My jaw drops slightly. "Ever?"

Macy pushes off the counter and saunters toward me. She's wearing a simple black dress, which is fairly sedate, with some strappy, black, high-heeled sandals. Her hair is pulled back into a low ponytail that hangs at the base of her neck. She's completely unadorned other than a thin gold chain with a diamond pendant, and I think she might be the most exquisite creature I've ever seen.

She walks up to me, presses up against my body, and lightly fingers the lapels on my suit. "I'm not normal, Cal. This shouldn't surprise you."

"Are you uncomfortable?" I ask her hesitantly. I need to know if this evening is going to be as hard on her as last night was for me at Voyeur.

"Very," she admits with a gust of minty breath as she looks up at me. "But a deal is a deal."

Part of me wants to accept that, grab her hand, and lead her out of this apartment. I want to force her to sit through dinner with me and make merry conversation. I want to bring her back here, have her invite me in for a nightcap, and then I want to leisurely fuck her as the end to a perfect date. Then I want to hold her all night and not let her go.

But I also want to know if Macy is only allowing me to stand in her apartment right this very minute because she struck a bargain, or is there a possibility that she is curious about what more she could have.

I lean down, kiss her cheek, and then step away from her. "Listen... we don't have to do this. I don't want you to be pushed out of your comfort zone."

Macy crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at me. "Sort of the way I pushed you out of yours last night?"

I shrug carelessly, pushing my hands into my pockets. "I'm really not a tit-for-tat kind of guy. You have limitations, and I can accept them."

Then suave, elegant Macy Carrington does something I never thought I'd see.

She gives an unladylike snort.

"You find that funny?" I ask with a cocked eyebrow.

"I find it adorable," she says with a smile and then turns away, walking out of the kitchen. I follow her back to the foyer where she picks up a small, black evening bag and reaches for the front door.

Reaching out, I take her wrist gently and turn her toward me. "Seriously, Macy... we don't have to do this. I'm cool with it."

Standing on her tiptoes, she leans in and brushes her lips against mine. "I know. But I learned something last night."

"What's that?" I murmur as she goes flat-footed again.

"You took a risk doing something for me that I wanted," she says simply, her eyes burning into mine. "And I'm not doing this because it's a bargain we struck, or it's tit for tat. I'm doing this because maybe you've inspired me to be a little more courageous in stepping outside of my comfortable and secure box."

I can't help the grin that comes. Roughly pulling her into my arms, I give her a searing kiss. She moans, slipping her tongue in my mouth and gripping onto my shoulders. Deep and wet, the best kind of kissing with Macy.

When I push her away, I lay one more sweet kiss on her lips and whisper, "Brave girl."

"The bravest," she whispers back.

"You do remember that tonight includes me coming back to your place... and I'm staying all night."

She nods with an uneasy smile.

"And that staying all night means that after we fuck, I'll pull you in my arms and hold you there while we fall asleep."

Her eyebrows rise as if the concept is completely foreign.

"And be forewarned... I'm a cuddler," I add on with a wink.

"Oh, God," she moans dramatically as she wrinkles her nose in distaste. "What have I gotten myself into?"

I throw my head back and laugh, loving the way that Macy can joke about something that truly has to be causing her some anxiety. "You're a mess, woman."

"The messiest," she whispers back.

On that... we are agreed.

We make inane chitchat at the restaurant until our food arrives, and as soon as the waiter retreats, I ask Macy, "You haven't said a word about that little scene you walked in on at my office today."

"Oh, you mean the woman grinding on your lap?" she asks smartly as she flakes off a piece of blackened sole.

"That would be the one," I quip.

Macy gives a delicate shrug and shoots me a smirk. "I saw enough to know what was going on."

"And that was?" I prompt.

"A jilted girlfriend who still has feelings for you, who just learned you're seeing me, and thought she stood a chance the minute you emphatically said you weren't in love with me."

I wince, wondering if that hurts Macy in any way.

But apparently not.