Just You (8 page)

I’d bought a new pack of condoms, and we were nearly through it.

Today, though, today, the outing he’d planned was a picnic in Central Park, which would be really cool–in the summer–it was winter–and it was freezing. The grass had been white with frost earlier. Now the ground was just cold and hard, but he’d actually laid a blanket out on it, and he’d bought hot pastries from a deli round the corner, and hot chocolates. The guy was crazy. He had a wicked sense of humor, and he’d taken to teasing me constantly. He said it was to drag me out of my in-office moods.

Once, he’d stuck a post-it on my forehead at work when he’d walked past to go to the kitchen. It said:
out of office tonight
. We’d had a date planned, a trip to the ice rink and Chipotle.

Fortunately, ‘cause he was always messing around, no one thought it odd, or guessed there was anything in it. They hadn’t seen what he’d written. I’d screwed it up and thrown it in the bin.

I lay back feeling the cold creeping through my coat. I had three layers on–but I was so cold. It penetrated my gloves and hat. I looked up at the sky. It was clear blue and bright, framing the branches of a tree above us.

Justin was lying on his back beside me. He laughed to himself.

“What’s funny?” I rolled onto my side and looked down at him. I guess if I had to say who he most looked like, it would definitely be Jason Derulo, but Justin got better looking the more he smiled. He had charm and I was falling for it.

His brown eyes stared up at me, glowing warm like dark amber. “Just this. Just us. Just you. I still can’t believe I’ve got a thing going with the office ice-queen. The climate suits you.”

My palm hit his shoulder. “I’m out-of-office.”

He caught my wrist and pulled me on top of him. I squealed, until his fingers gripped the back of my head and then he kissed me, slipping his tongue between my lips and holding my mouth to his. It was all that mattered in the world. Yeah, Justin had charm.

When he let me go, my palm rested on his chest and I looked down at him. All around us, others were enjoying the park on a Saturday afternoon. Kids ran about, a group of guys played a ball game, loads of people were walking dogs. For a moment we stared at each other, then he whispered in a low voice. “Do you wanna go back to yours?”

“Yes.” I did. We folded the blanket up and dumped our rubbish in a bin, then caught the subway train, fingers laced.

I had a sudden flash of fear. I kept getting them. A feeling that I was getting in too deep, too fast. But then I’d tell myself, I’m living for now, this isn’t about tomorrow, or happy endings, it’s about being happy today–and I was happy. Probably for the first time in a year. Probably for the first time in years–maybe ever.

When we got into my apartment he dropped the blanket on the bed and pulled my wooly hat off, then tossed that there too, before kissing me, his palm at the back of my head.

There was no hiding from Justin. He said things like they were and he did things like they were.

When he broke the kiss he was unbuttoning my coat and I slid down his zip. Then we were peeling clothes off and dropping them everywhere, rushing to get into bed. He flopped back on the bed, pulling me, but I pushed him off and went down on him.

“Shit, Portia.” His voice rasped into the cold air in my room, as his fingers clawed in my hair. “Yeah, right, like that…”

In the last four weeks, I’d learned to do stuff just like him–no holding back.

I used my tongue to tease the sensitive pink skin at his tip. But his patience dried, or maybe he was going to come and didn’t want to, because he gripped my neck and pulled me up. “Get a condom,” he breathed at me urgently.

I reached to the drawer in the chest beside the bed, pulled one out, tore it open and then rolled it down, sheathing him. As soon as it was on, he gripped my thighs and pulled me up, then plunged into me, with a wicked smile.

Having sex with Justin was like riding rapids, a little dangerous.

His fingertips pressed into my flesh gripping my thighs. He’d told me he liked my hips and thighs–and most of the time we did it, his hands were there. But wherever he touched me, he sent luscious spasms winding through me.

He nipped at my nipple when I leaned forward.

Smiling at him, I held still, letting him push up into me, his thighs and hips working between my legs.

I looked down and watched his abs moving. The guy was pure gorgeous naked.

That thought made me come. It unraveled, reeling out into my nerves, catching in every corner and rushing right to my fingertips.

He tipped me back on the bed, and pushed my legs open wider; the beautiful cut of his abs and pecs, gilded by the sunlight coming from above. He pushed into me hard, fast and relentless. All I could do was grip his shoulders and hang on, and he made me come three more times, the orgasms piling in on top of one another like waves rolling over each other on to a beach.

Poor Daniel–he’d been way out of Justin’s league.

The next time I came I shut my eyes, and let him push me off a cliff, but this time he jumped with me. Growling like a caveman as he pushed hard in and then pulled a little back and did it again, pulsing inside me. His heart pounded in his chest beneath my fingers.

When I opened my eyes, his skin glistened with sweat and his eyes glowed as he looked at me.

“That was good,” he smiled.

“Searching for compliments?” He was still inside me, and it felt so right.

His fingers cupped my breast, then pinched my nipple gently. “Say it was good, or your luck’s out.” His touch became a delicate threat.

I smiled and said nothing.

He pinched and I squealed, laughing. “It was good! It was good!” Shutting my eyes, I bit my lip, to avoid the pain of his grip.

When he released the pressure, I opened my eyes. He was staring into me, not just looking at me.

A surge of emotion rushed through me that had nothing to do with sex. “It was more than good, it was awesome.”

Whatever the surge of emotion in me was, I saw it reflected in his eyes. “
You
, are awesome, Portia.”

I smiled.

“You’re pretty awesome too.”

He slipped out of me, then got off the bed to get rid of the condom. “Flattery don’t count when it has to be won, babe.”

“Babe?”

He turned back and looked at me. “What do you want me to call you then,
darling
?” He mimicked my voice when he said it, stripping the urban out of his accent. I didn’t want him to talk like me.

“You can say, babe.”

“Do you want coffee?”

“Yeah.”

He made it, naked, as I lay there watching the really high, rounded muscle in his buttocks, and the long lean length of his thighs. I loved the way his ass curved into his lower back, and the line of his spine, and… everything… I loved everything about his body, including the shape of his head, I smiled to myself

He turned and smiled at me–his smile playing odd games with the sensations in my belly.

After he’d bought the coffee over, he got back into bed with me, and we snuggled up under the comforter as he held me and we watched old episodes of the
Big Bang Theory
.

My life felt good, for the first time ever.

Chapter Seven

I watched Portia. She was working on some more dictation from Mr. Rees.

It was six weeks since the weekend after New Year’s–since Portia and I had started something up. They’d been pretty good weeks. Mom had even come ‘round to the idea that this girl might actually be good for me. She’d stopped panicking when I stayed out.

But I hadn’t shown her a picture. I didn’t know how she’d take the fact that Portia was white. Stupid. But Mom was gonna have to step out of her comfort zone. She was a traditionalist, she liked things just so. Portia’s background and her families money, was gonna throw Mom off track when she found out I was dating a society girl. She’d be anxious about it causing trouble for me.

Anxiety was stitched into Mom’s DNA–by Dad’s failings–and there was no unpicking it. She worried, and I hated making her worry, but I also had to live my life.

Robin had filled me in on the fact she’d been asking him a ton of questions. But he didn’t know Portia was white either.

I breathed out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding; Portia was going to have to meet them soon. I wanted our thing to shift up a level. I wanted her to be my girl–in all my life. I figured Portia wasn’t gonna step it up. She’d given no indication she wanted anything to change. If anyone was taking this up a gear, it was gonna be me.

I just wanted to stop hiding what we had.

Portia stood up and walked over to the printer to collect the letters she’d printed off. Her head was down scanning them for errors as she walked back. Her blonde ponytail had caught on her shoulder and rested over her white blouse. She had her work poker-face on. You’d never guess the out-of-office girl I knew was there.

I sent her an email. ‘In-office.’

She sat down, and glanced over once she’d seen it. She smiled.

My fingers typed. ‘Are we meeting for lunch?’

‘Yeah, if you want.’

‘I want, baby.’

‘:-)’

She hated me calling her babe or baby, but somehow, it softened her a little more.

‘See you at twelve in the deli.’

‘Yeah.’

She stood up then, smiling at me, with the letters she’d printed gripped in her hand, and turned to take them into Mr. Rees.

A bit more than an hour later I stood outside the deli waiting for her, my hands in my pockets. This was one of the things I wanted to change. I didn’t see why we couldn’t just walk out of work together. Why did it matter? But it mattered to her, because whenever I suggested the idea she backtracked a mile, and came up with a dozen excuses not to.

I saw her, further along the sidewalk, walking toward me. She had on a black pencil skirt, a short cream coat and black patent heels. I knew beneath her skirt her sheer black stockings were stay ups. A spasm of lust, to touch her soft skin above her stockings, gripped in my groin. I ignored it. I couldn’t even see her until Wednesday night.

If she’d been in out-of-office mode when she reached me, I’d have got a kiss–in-office Portia gave me a nod.

My hand slipped about her waist as we turned to the door, and I whispered to her ear. “In-office, baby.”

She glanced back and gave me a big fat pleased to see you out-of-office smile.

It played guitar strings in my heart. I had it bad for this girl. I wanted it up a gear–and I was gonna persuade her today.

“You, okay?” I asked when we sat down.

“Yeah, you? Are you busy?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a ton to do.”

“What?” She drizzled a bit of olive oil on her salad.

“I’m doing a feature on The Giants, Keith wants me to change the color tones, and the backgrounds, and ensure we’re showing them in their best light–”

“Why does stuff like that matter?”

“’Cause everyone and everything has to look perfect these days, and it’s all gotta be wrapped up in a parcel with a perfect bow.”

She looked up and met my gaze. “And then someone comes along and breaks the glass, then you realize nothing is perfect, perfect isn’t out there…”

She was thinking of her Dad.

I reached out and gripped her hand. “But then sometimes you discover things are better than you ever thought they could be…”

“Portia! Justin!”

She moved in an instant, pulling her hand from mine and standing up, as I turned in my chair to face Becky from the office.

“Becky!” Portia gave her a hug and an air kiss. Becky looked at me, her eyebrows lifting. I smiled. It seemed my talk with Portia was off. The cat was out the bag.

“What are you two doing?” The question wasn’t only in her words, it was in her voice as she stared at me, asking questions with her eyes too, guessing.

“Oh,” Portia’s hand waved in the air as she glanced at me only for a second. She didn’t look me in the eyes. “He was in here when I came in, do you want to sit with us.”

Bullshit.
I wanted to grab her arm and make her tell the truth as she moved to pull up a third chair, encouraging Becky to sit. I felt like she’d punched me.

What the fuck, Portia?

She spent the next ten minutes gossiping with Becky like I wasn’t even here, full on
in-office
, and then she actually had the fucking neck to throw me a smile and ask. “Why are you being so quiet? You’re not normally quiet.” If she’d been a guy I’d have hit her.
The bitch
. But I played along, and nodded at them, watching her in a dream.

Clearly what I thought had happened over the last six weeks, hadn’t happened.

After another ten minutes, I’d finished my lunch and I’d had enough. Fuck this. I stood up, dropping my napkin on the table. “Well, nice to
run into you
. I’ll see you back at the office.”

She looked up at me, her eyes full of shock. She knew I was angry. Hell, Becky probably knew I was angry, but I didn’t give at shit. Let Portia carry on her little games, but she’d be playing them by herself.

I walked out of the deli, letting the door bang shut. The good thing I’d had going was over.

I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets and curled them into fists as I walked along the street, dodging people and grumbling to myself. I looked up at the skyline of scrapers–exasperated. Fucking hell, Portia!

Shit. I was pissed when I got back to the office. I opened up my system.

Portia came back fifteen minutes later with Becky. I knew she was there. I didn’t look up. I also knew she was looking at me. Well, she could keep looking, it wasn’t gonna get her anywhere. I was done.

‘You okay?’ Her message came up with a little envelope.

‘Nope. It’s over.’

‘Over?’

‘I’m done with you, Portia. The end.’

‘Why.’

‘The fact you even need to ask that says it all. Don’t bother trying to talk to me.’

‘Justin?’

I didn’t reply. I really was done.

But when I went to the toilet later she followed. She was there when I came out. Standing in the hall, agitated, like she’d been after New Year’s when she hadn’t remembered what had happened. Maybe I should have recalled that and known her heart was never in it.