Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
"Do you want to get to work?" That's why I'm here. To work.
"Sure." He motions after you.
I lead him into my office.
Reverence fills his deep blue eyes as he looks around the space. He notes the sheer curtains over the window, the outline of the ocean view, the framed portraits of famous songwriters, the shelf of music books, the shelf of speculative fiction under it.
He smiles. "It suits you." He turns to me. "This too." He reaches out and runs his fingers over the blunt edge of my bob. "You look even more like a punk-rock princess."
"Is that a compliment?"
"You know it is."
My cheeks flush. My chest too. I know it's a cliché, the breakup haircut, but I love this one. It's easy—as long as I cut it regularly, it's wash and go—and it looks badass. "Thank you."
His eyes stay on mine.
My heart thuds against my chest. There are so many things whirling through me, things I don't know how to say. I need to start with work. But I don't. "You're not jealous?"
"Of you and Lisa?"
I nod.
"I was," he says. "Especially when I heard your tracks. They were amazing."
"Was that all it was? Songwriter envy?"
"Cass—"
Right. We're friends. I agreed to his terms. If we begin again, we begin again. When he's ready. "Right. Sorry."
"No. We should talk about it," he says. "You two were…"
"Not for long."
"Why not? Was she bad in bed?"
"No." Physically, it was good. She had excellent technical skill—women usually do—but it felt that way too. Technical. Like we were both performing on each other in an attempt to craft the best sex ever.
It wasn't her fault. It was a mix of two things: chemistry and my inability to let go of Damon.
I wasn't ready yet. I wasn't ready to lose myself with someone else.
Since then… well, I'm still not into casual, and I'm still not ready to fall for someone else, but I have a great time with my toys and my lube.
But, uh, that is so not the conversation I'm having right now. I look Damon in the eyes, and I continue. "It was just a rebound, you know. Getting under someone to get over someone."
"I thought you liked to be on top."
My cheeks flush. "I like to mix it up." Is this what we're doing? Are we joking to move away from the subject? That's okay. Sex is loaded. "We don't have to talk about it."
He nods, but he continues anyway. "Did it work?"
"Huh?" Oh. Did I get over him? "No. That's why it ended. I couldn't… I haven't. Which is okay. We're still friends. We can still work together. I respect your—"
"I don't want to be friends."
"Oh." My heart sinks. I can lose a lot. But not that.
"No, Cass. That's not what I mean. I want to be more than friends." His eyes meet mine. "I miss you. I miss your laugh and your groan and the way you light up when you hear a song and the way you arch your back when you come."
"I miss that too."
"Fuck." His eyes pass over me slowly. "I want to take you right here. This space, the love of music everywhere—it does it for me every time, you know."
"That would make it hard to work together."
"I want to work with you. But only for this project. Not forever," he says. "I don't want work to get in the way of us."
"There's an us?" I ask.
"There could be. I'm ready." He looks me in the eyes. "If you're ready."
"I think so. But what does that mean?"
"We start over," he says.
"I say, hi, I'm Cassie Steele." I hold out my hand.
He shakes. "I'm Damon Webb."
"And now I invite you to bed?" I ask.
He smiles. "And now, we talk, and we have fun."
"And we have sex?"
"Not right away."
"How long are we talking here?" I ask. "Months?"
"No." He shakes his head.
"Weeks?"
"Closer," he says.
"How about twenty minutes?" I offer.
He counters. "How about I kiss you and we take it from there?"
I reply by bringing my lips to his.
It starts softly. With the hesitation we both feel. Then that breaks and we fall into each other.
My lips part. His tongue slips into my mouth.
We dance together, exploring each other, offering ourselves.
One step at a time.
That's what we're doing now.
It's hard, but it feels good to sit and savor this one.
Epilogue
Cassie
Jackson stretches his arms over his head. Then he twists left and right with the precision of a boot camp instructor. No. A martial arts instructor. Which form of self-defense does he practice?
He hates when I call it karate, because it's not karate, and it's important to respect the unique qualities of…
Kendo. Aikido. Ju-jitsu…
I have no idea.
I could ask my boyfriend, of course, but I enjoy how much they hate my indifference to their hobby.
Yes, Damon and Jackson now practice martial arts together. My brother actually responded to my request to make nice with Damon.