BEEP! BEEP!
“You know I don’t care if they see us like this...” Jonathan reached down for my hands, pulling them up over my head and pressing them against the wall. “And I won’t stop when they open the doors if you haven’t answered me.”
“Are there any persons inside?” The fire chief repeated. “Hmmm. Might be an empty cart gentlemen,” he said in a lowered voice.
“There are persons inside.” Jonathan answered calmly, but his thrusts inside of me were the exact opposite. I was doing my best to hold my breath and bite down on my lip to prevent myself from screaming again.
“Okay, hold tight. We’ll send a team over now.”
There was another series of beeps to end the conversation, and then everything around me went hazy—blurred. I was suddenly screaming at the top of my lungs as he pushed me to the verge of an orgasm, as he demanded that I answer him one last time.
“I love when you...” I let my head fall back against his shoulder, let my body completely go. “When you f**k me with your mouth...” I shut my eyes as my knees gave in beneath me, as he slowly slid out of me and let me fall down to the floor.
I wanted to sit like that forever—on a high, in bliss, but Jonathan pulled me up and held me against his side, hitting the stop button and pressing the level that was right above the lobby.
When we stepped off the elevator, he kept me tucked by his side and led me down the emergency stairwell and outside. As soon as the first whiff of fresh air hit my face, I took a deep breath. “Do you always have to do that to me? Is it impossible for you to wait?”
“It’s the only way to get you to tell me the truth...” He released me. “And I think you like it...”
I rolled my eyes and tried not to smile.
“I love you, Claire.” He kissed my forehead and adjusted my necklace. “I don’t know why you’re still so reserved about discussing sex with me, but you shouldn’t be. You should be able to tell me what you want, whenever you want, and I’ll make sure it gets done.” He kissed me again and wrapped his arms around my waist, leading me over to the parking lot.
As we approached our cars—town car for me, Bugatti for him, he spun me around to face him.
“Do you still think we need pre-marital counseling? Are there any other intimacy issues we need to discuss?”
“No...”
“Hmmm...” He pressed his lips against mine. “You are so lucky that I have a flight to catch right now,” he said as he slowly pulled his mouth away from me, as he pressed my crumpled notecard into my hand. “Be home by six.”
Days later, I stood in my office and stared at the newest set of family photos I’d hung on my wall: pictures of me, Ashley, Caroline, and Jonathan hanging out at a private lake.
In one photo, the four of us were building a large sand castle, laughing at how long it’d taken us to put it together. In another we were rowing four small kayaks across the water.
Ever since Ashley and Caroline had gone off early to college in Arizona, my days at home were a lot less noisy. They were actually quite boring.
I missed the two of them lying around on the couch—talking about absolutely nothing, laughing at my terrible jokes, and ultimately getting on my nerves from time to time. I missed that.
Now, instead of family dinners on Sunday and Thursday nights, Jonathan and I simply went over to his little sister Hayley’s condo and ate dinner with her. Although he never admitted it, Jonathan was missing family dinners too; I was pretty sure that was why he’d already planned a week of meals for their Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks.
“Miss Gracen?” My assistant interrupted my thoughts.
“Yes, Rita?”
“Your daily flowers from Mr. Statham have just arrived. Would you like them in here?”
“Yes, please.” I leaned back and watched as she pulled a small cart of flowers—orchids, Baby’s Breath, and white carnations, into my office.
As usual, there was a silver card with a note on top:
Dear Future Wife,
Do I need to start picking you up from work to get you home in time to eat dinner with me? You’ve been late all week.
Stop Testing Me.
Love,
Your Future Husband
I laughed. I was about to pick up my phone and call him, but Rita stepped inside my office again.
“Your three o’ clock is here now,” she said. “I’m going to go ahead and bring her back before my lunch break.”
“Thank you, Rita.” I stood up and smoothed my dress, ready to seal another deal, blocking everything else out.
As soon as the client walked inside my office, my mind was focused on white columns, framed cabinets, and the stained wood necessary to create a brand new space. She and I talked for hours, negotiating the timeline, the best materials, and of course—the cost for everything.