Page 32 of One Little Favor
“I’m not sure you would have smiled,” she says, “if I gave that to you and we weren’t having sex.”
“You’re probably right,” I say as I trace circles on her knee. “No wonder you say I’m grumpy at work. I’ve been holding in all my inappropriate thoughts and feelings about you for almost a year. That would piss anyone off.”
She shakes her head. “We were so stupid, wasting all that time we could have been together.”
“Nah.” I shake my head as I gaze at her, this goddess who has somehow seen fit to grace my bed. “Now we just have a lot of time to make up for.”
Her breath hitches and I can see the worry flash in her eyes.
“Avery, I will take care of the work situation,” I say, hoping she can hear the certainty in my voice. “It’s all going to work out.”
She sighs and looks away, out the window where the sun is already high enough that it’s reflecting off the water. I see the tense lines of worry etched on her face as she says, “I hope so. Because if it doesn’t, I’m the one who’s going to get hurt.”
“Avery, look at me,” I say as I scoot toward her on the bed until our knees are touching. “You’re not going to get hurt. We’re in this together, okay?”
She looks at me, her big brown eyes say they want to trust me, but I’m not sure she fully does. And what have I done to earn her trust at this point? I’ve brought her to orgasm in my office, then taken her away on a nice vacation where we’ve had copious amounts of sex. Yes, we’re getting along great and getting to know each other better, but what have I done to show her I’m trustworthy?
Nothing.
Yet.
CHAPTER11
AVERY
“I am not at all excited to go back to work next week,” I say as I settle back between Tom’s legs on the big round outdoor daybed on our balcony. I hand him a fresh drink and take a sip of mine. Room service dinner on a balcony with the most beautiful sunset view, followed by cocktails ... life goals, achieved.
“It’ll be tough to adjust to, especially after this. Even though we go home tomorrow, at least we have a few more days before we have to be back at work.” Mr. Workaholic doesn’t sound too pleased about the idea of returning to the office, either.
“Can’t we just stay here forever?” I turn and kiss his cheek. “Please?”
“If we could, I’d be happy to. But I don’t think we can. Besides, I texted Alex and told him what a big fan your dad is. There’s a home game Sunday night, and he said he can get us tickets. I know it’s the day after they get home from their cruise, but do you think they’d be up for going?”
Well, if that isn’t the most thoughtful thing, I don’t know what is.
“You met my dad, right? If Alex Ivanov wants to give him hockey tickets, do you really thinkanythingwould keep him away?”
I feel Tom’s chest shake with a small laugh and I glance up at him in time to see the smile spread across his face. I thought he was sexy when he was the office grump, but this new side of him is pure perfection. He seems younger. Lighter, somehow. Happier.
“I love it when you do that,” I tell him.
“I love that you give me a reason to.” He pauses, then adds, “It’s funny how obsessed you are with my smile.”
“I didn’t know it existed before this past weekend. It’s like finding a treasure.”
“You’re the treasure,” he tells me.
“I’m gagging with how sappy we are. But also I love this so much.” I send a torrent of quick kisses across his jawline, and his hand skims across my belly as he pulls me tight against him.
God, I’m going to miss this easy, carefree life when we go back to New York tomorrow.
* * *
I’ve always loved that moment when I walk into my apartment, look around, and realize that this is my own space. My own little slice of the city. It’s small and cozy, and I’ve filled it with the things I love.
Except today, it’s the last place I want to be. It’s dark outside and even the golden glow of the lamps I love just makes me sad that it’s not the glow of last night’s sunset when Tom and I spent hours on that balcony talking and then making love. Because that’s what last night was—not need-fueled desire, but something deeper and more passionate.
And now he’s across the city in his Upper West Side apartment and I’m down here in my West Village studio. When we decided that we could both use a night to unpack and get our life in order, I didn’t anticipate missing him this much. And it’s only been an hour. Tomorrow feels like it’s forever away. I glance at my bed—all cozy with the fluffy, white, down comforter and the many pillows—and the thought of climbing into it without Tom curled around me makes it seem barren and desolate.
