“We’ll see,” I tell him.
For the rest of the ride, we talk about our favorite things, while I stare at him in the pale blue light. The rest of the guys are sleeping, but we talk the whole two plus hours’ drive into Manhattan.
He’s surprisingly funny and charming. If I was not so gross right now, I think that I would try to kiss him, but I do not. As we get into the city, we start dropping off guys until it is just us and the driver on board. That takes about an hour to get all of them home.
Suddenly, we pull up to a mega high-rise and get off the bus. I watch as he tips the driver and says goodnight to him. Then he takes my hand and leads me up to the building. The doorman opens the door for us.
“Have a good night, Thomas,” Brendan says.
“You too, Mister O’Neal. Ma’am,” Thomas answers, tipping his hat to us. I nod to him and let him lead me to the elevator. It opens as soon as he hits the button. Inside, he presses the button that takes us to the twenty-seventh floor. Going left once we leave the elevator; we stop at the third door on the left. 2705. I am amazed at the view when he opens the door, and it is a wall of windows overlooking Madison Avenue.
“Wow. This is so beautiful,” I exclaim.
“It really is,” he says just as much in awe as I am, but then I realize that he is looking at me and not at the view.
“Can you show me where I can freshen up?” I ask breathlessly. My face feels heated, and I know that I am blushing.
“Of course, Cherry,” he says, taking my hand again.
“Well, that certainly is a nickname no one has ever called me,” I say, wondering if I have “virgin” stamped on my forehead or something.
“You most definitely do not have “virgin” stamped on your forehead,” he replies. Shit, I had not realized I said that out loud. “But you are covered in cherry juice, which is slightly more overpowering than the beer,” he says, chuckling.
Inside what I know has to be his bedroom, I am shocked to see the biggest bed I have ever seen taking up a large portion of the room.
“What size bed is that?” I ask, curious.
“Alaskan King.”
“Oh, wow,” I mumble.
“My interior designer recommended it due to my height.”
“Ah, makes sense.” He is ridiculously tall. I’m 5’4, and he towers above me.
“How about that shower?” he asks.
“How about joining me?” I ask in reply, rather boldly. Never have I uttered that phrase in response to a shower. I do not know what’s come over me or why I am acting this way, but he brings something out in me. This feels like something more than a one-night stand. I have to see where this goes.
Chapter 5
Brendan
I damn near swallowed my tongue when Brynn asked me to join her in the shower. Now that I’m actually in it with her, I think I’m gonna die. My heart is pounding right out of my chest. I was not prepared for her body. She is short and curvy. With her hair wet and no longer a riot of curls she does not look as tall as I thought she was in the bar.
“I am covered in cherry juice and beer,” Brynn says as she stands under the spray. I could make a sarcastic comment about cherry juice, but I refrain. She said she was a virgin, and I believe it. She has an air of innocence about her; it’s something I want for myself.
“Let’s get you cleaned up then,” I say, reaching for the soap on the built-in shelf. She smiles at me and lets me clean her up. When I say that my dick has literally never been this hard, I am not lying. Watching the suds slide down her body is an erotic experience I am not prepared for. I turn her to face the water. She rolls her shoulders as the hot water flows. She moans when I reach her back. Dropping the washcloth, I use my hands to both soap and massage her tight muscles. She pulls her long hair out of my way so that I have full access to her.
“You’re good at this,” she says breathlessly. “You do this often?”
“Shower? Yep, pretty much daily,” I say, chuckling.
“No, I mean shower with women,” she says, also laughing.
“Not at all. This is a first for me,” I tell her honestly.
“Mmm,” she moans as I move lower down her body. “I don’t think that I believe you.”
“I do not tell lies, Cherry,” I tell her, really liking the nickname I’ve given her. She blushes as I reach her feet.
“You’re a regular George Washington, aren’t you?” she asks.