Last Call Read online

  Aside from holding her hand, I haven’t made a move on Ada all day. I wanted to kiss her a hundred times, but I also had no idea if she wanted me to, especially in public.

  But we’re not in public now.

  I reach for her, grabbing her neck with one hand and sliding my other hand up her shirt in the back, pulling her against me.

  I’m not entirely sure how much she’s saying yes to, but a kiss seems an appropriate start. Our mouths come together, and at the touch of her tongue, I pull her closer. With my hand splayed against her back, I can feel her bra strap, but I don’t move to unclasp it. Not yet. Not without her permission.

  Our kiss deepens, and when her hand slips between us, I’m too shocked at first to react. But those are definitely her fingers on the button of my shorts. And now she’s unzipping them.

  Groaning against her mouth, I’m somehow still surprised as she springs me free and wraps her hand around my cock.

  “Ada,” I grind out.

  Instead of answering, she begins to stroke me, up and down, never taking her mouth off mine.

  It’s the cue I need.

  With a flick of my fingers, her bra is undone. I don’t want to wait another second, so I don’t. Pulling it up enough for access, I cup her breasts, bringing my forefingers and thumbs together to squeeze her nipples. Her moans of pleasure encourage me, and she’s still stroking me, but I have to stop her. Even if it kills me.

  I need her to be sure.

  “Ada.” Pulling my hands from her breasts, I reach down to tug her hand away.

  She looks up at me with a questioning gaze, her lips still parted.

  “If we do this, there’s no going back. Not for me, anyway. This is different for me. You’re different.”

  She’s skeptical.

  “You’ve been with plenty of women, I’m sure.”

  Denying it would make me a liar, and I don’t ever want to lie to Ada.

  “I have.”

  My cock is screaming for her to touch it again, but I need to say this before we go any further. No matter how agonizing it feels.

  “If you let me make love to you,” I say, “when we’re back in the city, I’ll be calling you. Visiting you. Taking you to dinner. We can be discreet, but we can’t go back to a strictly professional relationship.”

  I’ve always been able to read people pretty well, so I’m fairly certain I know both her answer and what she’s planning.

  Sure enough, Ada drops to her knees.

  “You didn’t answer me,” I remind her through gritted teeth.

  “Yes”—she runs a finger up my length, peering at me from under long, thick lashes—“I did.”

  Without another word, she wraps her mouth around me. My hands rest on the top of her head, my fingers folding into her halo of silky hair as she begins the gentle assault.

  “Holy hell.”

  Ada has one goal, and I can sense it. But I’ll be damned if I don’t bring her over the edge with me. Just a few more seconds of this sweet torture . . .

  Tugging her off me now is even harder than it was to stop that kiss at my apartment before it spiraled out of control. But this time I’m only pulling away so I can discard both of our clothes, something I do with a speed that seems to impress Ada. I only give myself a second to take in the sight of her completely nude before we kiss our way to the bed.

  This is actually going to happen.

  My hands are everywhere as Ada positions herself below me. Straining to hold on to the tiny sliver of restraint I have left, I lean down and give her breasts the attention they deserve.

  With my tongue. And my teeth. Just a little nip until Ada’s fingers tug on my hair, none too gently, showing me what she wants.

  I’m happy to move lower, but I also want to make something clear to her.

  Positioned just above the ultimate prize, I look up.

  “Don’t ever be shy around me, Ada. If you want something, tell me. And I’ll give it to you, every time. Making you happy, in bed and out of it, will be my only goal moving forward.”

  She tsks. “Your only goal?”

  Ada thinks I’m kidding.

  “The most important one,” I clarify.

  Still not sure she gets it completely, I move myself into position.

  “Next time you can just say the words.” Ada’s hips jolt at the first touch of my tongue. “‘Go down on me, Hayden,’” I say.

  Another lick. Another tease. And then I rub and suck until she’s shaking. I stop, only for a second, looking up.

  “‘Make me come with your mouth,’” I give her as an alternative.

  Determined to push her over the edge, I continue to apply slow pressure, followed by a few well-placed flicks of the tongue. She explodes just as my hand slips underneath her to cup her backside. Squeezing, I look up from between her legs.

  “I will live down here if you want me to.”

  “Oh my God, are you even real?”

  I move quickly, so ready to show her that I am.

  “Where are you going?”

  I pick up my shorts and tug on the pocket.

  “Condom,” I say, pulling it out.

  She’s giving me a strange look, one that makes my heart slam against my chest.

  “If you changed your mind, that’s fine,” I say, my voice sounding strangled to my own ears.

  “No, it’s just . . .”

  I walk over to the bed.

  “If you were serious, what you said before . . . if there won’t be anyone else . . .”

  I swallow. Hard.

  “I’m on birth control, and I had a physical recently. I’m clean.”

  I am too, but I still always use a condom.

  Always.

  “That’s a hell of a lot of trust for you to put in someone like me.”

  Ada shrugs it off. “Up to you.”

  She’s smart. A scientist. A logical thinker. And yet she’s basically telling me, a womanizer by my own admission, that she trusts me enough to take a chance on me.

  “I’m clean,” I assure her. “And there won’t be anyone else, Ada. You have my word.”

  I move toward the bed, and before I can react, she snatches the package from my hand.

  And tosses it to the ground.

  I’d thought I couldn’t get any harder, but I was wrong. Seeing her orgasm, watching her throw aside that condom . . . I’m straining for her, and I’m impatient too.

  If I’d thought to extend this first time between us, prolong it and make it special, that plan was just blown out of the water. I’m above her, guiding myself into her, before my mind can even grasp the entire situation.

  All I know is that I want this woman so badly that it doesn’t even feel real when I slide into her.

  “Ada.” My hands are everywhere. Hers pull me down, and already we’re finding a rhythm that ensures this won’t last long.

  “Doctor Flemming,” she teases just before my mouth descends on hers. I’d laugh, but there’s nothing funny about the intensity of this. With every thrust, I feel more connected to her, more sure of this—of us—and more full of emotion than I had thought possible.

  And then there are no more words.

  Just tongues tangling, thrusts, and groans of pleasure. And when Ada’s hips pound into me as her knees begin to shake, I let go.

  Coming inside a woman for the first time in my life. My orgasm’s so strong I can’t even keep kissing her. There’s something about being inside her, no barrier, no walls between us . . .

  I should be fucking terrified at how this played out, but I’m not.

  The only thing filling me at this moment is pure joy. One I never want to end.

  27

  Ada

  “You can pull up there.” Hayden points to an empty spot in front of his apartment.

  When the doorman comes toward us, Hayden waves him away. Although we talked about this very moment on the way home, it’s more awkward than I imagined.

  “Poor Henry is going to
wonder how you got back to the city. He might think you’re cheating on him with another driver.”

  Hayden smirks a little. “He’s old school. Never asks questions. For the most part. Unless my father put a bug in his ear about something.”

  I don’t want him to leave. And apparently Hayden doesn’t want to either, because he doesn’t move.

  “I’d say I had a really great time this weekend, but that wouldn’t do it justice.”

  I know exactly what he means. Somehow, it kept getting better and better. I’d thought last night would be the pinnacle of the weekend, but this morning was the cherry on top of the most delectable sundae ever.

  “You’re blushing.” He reaches out and touches my cheek. “You’re even cuter when you blush.”

  I grab his hand, pretending to swat it away. But really, I just want to touch him one last time before he leaves.

  “Maybe if you weren’t so naughty, I wouldn’t have anything to blush about.”

  His fingers wrap through mine.

  “I can be less naughty”—his eyes twinkle—“if that’s what you want.”

  He knows I don’t.

  “What I really want is for you not to get out of my car.”

  He leans forward, kissing me so gently it makes me want to cry. Why does it feel like a goodbye kiss?

  “I don’t want to get out either,” he says, pulling back, “but real life calls.”

  I’m one step away from asking if he wants to stay the night at my place, but I know that’s a terrible idea. I need some time to think, to decompress and take in everything that’s happened in the last few days. And I’m sure he does too.

  “Real life,” I murmur, hating the idea.

  Hayden lifts my chin up with his other fingers.

  “Hey, real life doesn’t mean not seeing each other. I told you you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  On the way home, after squeezing out every minute of Skaneateles possible, we talked about how we’d move forward. Dates at each other’s apartments. Maybe a night out if we were careful. But it got trickier when we discussed who we would tell. Enzo, sure. My sister and Karlene, yes.

  My parents? Hayden’s friends? My colleagues?

  Mostly it seems like a bad idea, but I know Qasim will be bursting by the time I get to work. We agreed to trust each other’s judgment, but we’ll still be sneaking around. Unfortunately, there’s no good way around it.

  “If I could scream about us from the rooftops, I would,” he says.

  “What would you scream?”

  Now I’m just fishing.

  “Maybe that my new girlfriend is writing a not so flattering book about me.”

  Girlfriend.

  We all but agreed to that on Saturday, before engaging in the most amazing bout of sex in the world, but I still like hearing that word from his lips.

  “First of all, some of it may be flattering. And second of all, I only told you about that because I admitted I was wrong about you.”

  “Mmm.” He’s not convinced. “But if you did write the book, which chapter would cover how to fall head over heels for a commoner?”

  I give him a shove. “A commoner? You’re not royalty, for God’s sake.”

  “Actually . . .”

  My mouth drops.

  “I’m kidding. I’m not royalty, but I have friends who are. One in particular I can’t wait for you to meet.”

  When he talks about things like that, casually tossing in references to the future, I get all warm and fuzzy inside.

  Basically, Hayden has turned me into a big, soft pile of mush. And although I’m many things—a good friend, doggedly determined, somewhat of a perfectionist—mushy is not typically one of them.

  “You actually have a friend who is real royalty?”

  “I do. A prince. We roomed together my junior and senior year in boarding school. He was just in New York last year.”

  His world continues to amaze me.

  “Chapter four, ‘Making Friends with a Royal.’”

  “Maybe I’ll write a book about you too,” he fires back.

  “That’s destined to be a bestseller. What will you call it?”

  He leans in toward me as if we’re not sitting in a parked car next to his building.

  “I’m still working on a title. When I’ve got one, I’ll let you know.”

  His eyes close, and I wait for the increasingly familiar touch of his lips. The kiss ends much too quickly.

  “So you have plans tomorrow night, but we’re still on for Tuesday?”

  I figured he’d laugh his ass off when I told him about the science club Karlene and I run, and sure, he did laugh for a minute. But after learning we mostly just drink wine and talk about how to bring more girls into STEM, he asked if we needed a donation. I’m pretty sure Hayden is used to tossing money at things, which makes me really sad.

  “We’re on for Tuesday for sure. I guess we should probably stay in? Your apartment or mine?”

  “Actually, I have an idea,” he says, something flashing in his eyes. “Let me work on something and then we’ll talk tomorrow. Sound good?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He gets out of the car, and I feel a strange heaviness as I watch him walk away—something that just gets worse as I make my way through the heavy evening traffic. I can’t help but wonder if I feel this way because the weekend has come to an end, or because I know what’s ahead and it’ll be anything but an easy path for us.

  Either way, I am determined not to overthink it. To take this as it comes, one step at a time, and do my best to keep work and this new relationship as separate as possible.

  I can do this. It’s just temporary.

  A year. Or two.

  Which seems like a lifetime right now.

  “Girl, start talking. Now.”

  Qasim popped in earlier and told me we’d be eating lunch today in my office. He didn’t ask, which is how I knew he wasn’t going to let this go. He literally said, “Do you have a lunch meeting? No? In here, one o’clock. I’m buying.”

  “What’d you get for lunch?” I ask.

  “Salad, extra cranberries for you”—he pulls out a plastic container—“and a turkey club, spicy mayo, for me.”

  I move some papers around as he pulls up a chair.

  “And waters. I assume you have your water killer?”

  “Otherwise known as lemon flavoring?” To horrify him, and also because I really do like it, I pull out the container from my top drawer and laugh at Qasim’s horrified expression when I squirt a healthy dose into my water bottle.

  “If you haven’t fucked Hayden Tanner already, I’ll buy you lunch every Friday for the rest of the year.”

  I nearly spill the entire water bottle.

  Half laughing, half mortified, I just stare back at Qasim’s all-knowing face.

  “The sexual tension between the two of you . . .” He whistles. “Off the charts.”

  This is not good news.

  “Was it that noticeable?”

  Qasim takes a bite of his sandwich, chews, and gives me an innocent (although really not-so-innocent) look.

  “To me, yes. To everyone else? I don’t think so.”

  I don’t believe him.

  “Seriously. I paid close attention to everyone. No one else was watching you.”

  “But you knew,” I charge.

  He breaks out into a smile. “I didn’t know. But now I do.”

  Since I’d planned to tell him anyway, I let him have the gotcha moment. I’m too panicked to think straight.

  “But if it was that obvious . . .”

  “Ada, this is me. I’m not some rando who thinks you’re nothing other than a ‘top scientist’ skyrocketing her way to the top of the FDA food chain.”

  I swallow, despite the fact that I’m suddenly not very hungry.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Qasim looks at me like I just moved his stapler around on his desk. He hates that.

  “Yo
u know what I mean. Of course you’re amazing, but I know the ‘other’ Ada. The one who likes to grind up on her dance partners and can hold more alcohol than should be possible.”

  “I do not grind on my dance partners,” I lie, totally knowing I do. Dancing is my absolute favorite, and I tend to lose myself a bit. “OK, but having fun is not a crime.”

  “No,” he admits, “it’s not. And you won’t find any judgment here. I’m just saying, I know what you look like when you’re feeling a guy. And holy shit, that was some high-level heat the two of you were emitting.”

  I push my salad away. Definitely not hungry.

  “I hope you’re right, because at that point there was nothing going on between us.”

  “Key phrase, ‘at that point.’”

  I clear my throat. “Things sort of changed after Thursday night.”

  “Do tell.” Qasim takes another bite of his sandwich, his appetite unaffected by my crisis.

  “We sort of drove back together.”

  “Mmmm.” He holds up a finger, finishes chewing, and asks, “Hold on, how is that possible?”

  “His driver dropped him off—” I cringe a little as I say it, all too aware of how pretentious it sounds. “Hayden came back with me.”

  “His driver, of course.”

  I can see the minute he figured it out.

  “But you weren’t coming straight back. That’s why you drove yourself.” His eyes widened. “Oh my God, he went with you to Skaneateles.”

  I nod.

  “You stayed the whole weekend?”

  I nod again.

  Qasim shrugs. “Well? How was he?”

  I toss a paper clip at him.

  “I won’t kiss and tell.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Qasim!”

  “Ada,” he mocks. “That’s OK, you don’t have to. I already know.”

  “Oh, do you now?”

  He crunches up his empty sandwich wrapper. “Yep. I knew from the minute I walked in here. You look like a tourist stepping out of her hotel and seeing Paris for the first time.”

  Actually, I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.

  “I do?”

  “Yes, you do. Which is surprising, to be honest.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. It sucks that I’m the project manager for his NDA.”