The Cornerstone (10 page)

I didn’t give myself a moment to hesitate and marched straight to the screen door. “Sorry I’m late,” I said, settling into a seat between Matt and Lauren at the round patio table. “I was buried with research on the Commonwealth Avenue property.”

“We didn’t think you were coming,” Matt said.

“Shannon
always
comes,” Will said, his eyes trained on me as if Matt and Lauren didn’t exist. “Sometimes it takes her a little longer to get there, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

And there he was. The same obnoxious, sun-bleached blond prick who gave me two of the best nights of my life and vanished without so much as a ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

“Well then,” Lauren said under her breath. “Sangria?” She didn’t wait for my response, and set a glass in front of me.

“Will,” I said.

“Shannon,” he replied.

I glanced around the table, ignoring Will’s cool, steady gaze. “What did I miss?” I asked.

“We were just telling Will that we’re thinking about getting a kitten,” she said, gesturing to Matt. “Or a puppy.”

“Because you two don’t have enough to do?” I asked.

“Because she,” Matt nodded to Lauren, “always gives me shit about growing up without pets.”

“Every kid should have a pet. At least a freaking goldfish, dude,” Lauren said. “And I think we can handle a kitten.”

“We are
not
getting a cat,” Matt said. “We need a black lab or a beagle, maybe a bulldog. Something loyal and fun. I don’t want some moody cat.”

“He’s right,” Will said. “Cats are assholes.”

Cats are assholes? What kind of statement is that?

“Why don’t you explain that one to me,” I said.

Will shrugged and lifted his beer bottle. “Real men have dogs. Dogs do as they’re fucking told, and they’re happy to have your company. Haven’t you ever seen a dog when you come home at the end of the day? It’s the best moment of their lives. Every day, they have a new best moment of their lives. Cats are selfish. They don’t give a shit whether you’re coming or going.”

“So you’re looking for submission,” I said. The corners of Will’s mouth tipped up into a smirk. “The dog bows to its master. The cat
is
the master.”

“There can only be one alpha, Shannon,” he said, and I
felt
those words like no others. It was as if he was speaking directly to my clit, saying, ‘Come on, my little pet. It’s time to play.’

“Yeah…” Lauren said. “I wasn’t so much worried about power dynamics. I was more concerned with the number of times we’d need to walk a dog each day and that we don’t currently have a backyard.”

“We can change that,” Matt said. “Say the word and I’ll build you that house.”

Lauren held up her hands. “Don’t rush me,” she said.

“You don’t find that argument a bit misogynistic?” I asked. I knew I was baiting Will. “Considering that cats are typically associated with women—how many sexy cats do you see on Halloween, right?—and dogs are associated with men, isn’t hating cats equivalent to hating women?”

Will’s tongue peeked out and painted his bottom lip, and my eyes went straight to his mouth.

“We’ve had this conversation before, and you’re well aware that I don’t hate women,” he said. Lauren gasped out a quiet laugh and turned to Matt, asking him what they’d name a bulldog. “Not at all. I like my dogs loyal and my woman fiery.”

The debate over canines and felines transitioned to the house Matt was planning to build for him and Lauren—when she was ready for a house, of course—and I was surprised to find Will speaking in complete sentences. He didn’t growl at Matt once.

I picked at the dish of gelato Lauren placed in front of me while the men discussed football. I could hold my own in sports talk but I preferred observing Will. I’d never had the opportunity to watch him before, taking in the way he carried himself, understanding his mannerisms. He projected strength and control, yet his presence was commanding without being oppressive. He was unshakably chill, and the way his eyes cruised over the terrace gave me the impression he was aware of absolutely everything. His beard was fuller. Without thinking, my legs squeezed together at the memory of his scruff on my thighs.

I never expected to be face-to-face with him again. At least not this soon.

And I still didn’t like him.

“I’ll be right back,” I said when the conversation shifted to World Series predictions. I only liked talking baseball with Riley. That kid was a stats savant.

I slipped inside and busied myself in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and wrapping up the leftovers. The loft was spacious, and only a few rooms were carved out of the open space. I wandered down the hall, ducking into the bathroom under the staircase.

Will was waiting for me when I opened the door. “How’ve you been, peanut?”

Crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe, I smiled at him. “Can’t complain.” He stared for a long moment, and I realized I’d missed the way his gaze felt on me.
This
gaze, not the detached, watchful stare I saw outside, but this hot, lazy intensity only a surfer boy could pull off. “How’s the military industrial complex?”

“Business is brisk,” he said.

I inclined my head down the hall, toward the terrace. “You’re being unusually amenable.”

Will rubbed his palm over his jaw, grinning. “He grills a decent steak,” he said, “but I got eyes on him. The second he steps out of line—”

I shook my head and placed my hand on his chest. “Take it down a notch, commando.”

He glanced at my hand and then up at me, smirking. That fucking smirk. It was his quiet way of making it damn clear that he was in charge here, and he wasn’t about to let that change. “Where do you want me to take it, peanut?”

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but within the next breath, my hand wrapped around the back of his neck, the bathroom door was slamming shut behind us, and my mouth found Will’s. His hands gripped my thighs, boosting me up and pressing my back to the wall.

“You should know I don’t have sex in bathrooms,” I whispered against his lips. “Apparently that’s a thing people do, but I’m not one of those people.”

“I have no intention of fucking you here,” he said. His fingers traced the edge of my panties but never dipped inside. “Just wanted to see if you tasted as good as I remembered.”

“And your game is just as weak as it was in May,” I said.

Will kissed me again, and this time it was slow. Patient.

Then he slapped my ass, set me on the ground, and walked away.

That asshole.

I stared at myself in the mirror, assessing my swollen lips, disheveled hair, askew sheath dress, and ragged, desperate breaths. My entire body was pulsing with need, and I could barely see beyond that wild hunger. If I didn’t get an orgasm right now, I was going to implode.

I got myself back in order, constructed a reasonable excuse for leaving early, and departed without making eye contact with Will. I drove home, frustrated and impatient, thinking up all the things I should have said to him.

What gave him the right to kiss me like that and walk away as if it was nothing?

And if he wasn’t interested enough to finish what he started, he shouldn’t have kissed me in the first place.

My apartment was dark and quiet, the only noise coming from the cyclical hum of the air conditioner, and I didn’t turn on any lights. I stomped toward the master bedroom, heading straight for the attached bath. My clothes fell in scattered heaps, and I stopped only long enough to turn on the shower and drop my bracelets and earrings beside the sink. The water was cool, the perfect balance to my overheated skin. I leaned against the chilly tile until my body was soaked.

Reaching for the detachable showerhead, I clicked over to my favorite setting, perched my foot on the built-in bench, and positioned the spray exactly where I needed it. My eyes closed, I dropped my forehead to the shower wall, and sighed as the first sensations rolled through me.

Shower orgasms weren’t especially powerful but they were quick, and they always took the edge off. I didn’t have time to pick out a vibrator, find the lube, cozy up in bed, and engage in thorough self-love. I’d do that later. Right now, I couldn’t forget the way Will’s hands gripped my ass, the feel of his weight against me, the pressure of his lips. I couldn’t forget the way his body pinned me with such intent, a reminder that he knew how to bring me pleasure I didn’t know was possible.

I slouched against the wall as I came, and the showerhead slipped from my fingers. The sounds of running water and my hammering pulse rang in my ears, blocking out everything else, and I stayed there, lingering in the small relief of an inadequate orgasm. My mind filled with to-do lists and odd thoughts of budgeting issues and reminders I needed to send Tom, and any tension that might have dissolved just now was replaced with even more.

On a defeated groan, I set the showerhead in its cradle and stood under the spray. I needed the water to wash it all away, to offer me a reprieve from the overwhelming ache inside me, to turn off my racing mind. Instead, I was left with shriveled fingers.

When I stepped out of the shower, I slathered on moisturizer, shrugged into a light robe, and twisted my hair into a bun. I required my bed, a glass of wine, another orgasm, and some
Friends
reruns, and stepped out of the bathroom with that checklist in mind.

“That was hot as fuck.”

I shrieked and reared back against the bathroom door, one hand pressed against my thudding heart. Will was sprawled on my bed, the remote control in one hand, a half-eaten apple in the other. He continued flipping through muted sports stations while my stomach did terror-convulsions.

“I was tempted to join in but I couldn’t interrupt something that incredible. It was like watching an act of God,” he said around the apple. “Hot. As. Fuck.”

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” I screeched.

He shrugged. “I let myself in.”

“You’re a presumptuous dick.” I couldn’t believe this guy. One minute he was slapping my ass, the next he was breaking and entering. Oh, and watching me give the downtown a thorough rinse. “Is that a commando tactic of yours?”

“Yeah, and you want to know another one?” I rolled my eyes. “You have to sit on my face for me to show you.”

“Choke on my dick,” I said.

“You have that one backward, peanut. You’re supposed to choke on
my
dick,” he said. He tossed the apple core into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. Of course he made the shot. He was unbearable like that.

“No, I’m pretty sure I had it right the first time,” I said.

“You mean this drawer of dildos?” He pointed to the short chest beside my bed. I couldn’t believe he went through my things. Any second now, I was going to start chucking those dildos at his head. The idea of pummeling him with the long fat one was quite appealing. “Quite the collection, but since the real thing is right here”—he motioned to his crotch—“hop on and give it a ride. Save the rubber for another day.”

“No, not when the real thing”—I frowned at his pants—“only performs for two minutes at a time.”

“That mouth of yours,” he growled, pressing the heel of his palm between his legs. It was probably an indication that we were both a special brand of crazy, but hurling insults was the most effective form of foreplay we knew.

That was precisely what this was: the hottest fucking foreplay I’d ever had. It was like dirty talk. Slightly evil, highly effective dirty talk.

I yanked the robe tighter to my chest and collected my phone from the dresser. For once, I didn’t have a landslide of new emails and texts waiting for me, and I thanked the universe for holiday weekends. “You are one creepy motherfucker. Is this what you do now? Show up in women’s apartments with your dick in your hand, expecting to get laid?”

Will tossed the remote control aside and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “My dick was never in hand. That’s your job.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and slammed my phone down. “You watched me! In the shower! When I was, I mean, I was…”

“When you were hot as fuck,” Will said. “It’s a compliment. You should learn how to take them.”

“I’d like to know,” I started, edging closer to the bed, “why you came here.”

He reached for the silky belt holding my robe shut, pulling me between his legs. He threaded the fabric through his fingers, tugging until the knot at my waist loosened. The robe parted, exposing a narrow strip of skin. He leaned forward, offering a quick glance up at me, then ran his lips from my collarbone down to my belly button. His whiskers tickled my skin, and as much as I wanted to call him names and yell at him for being such a beast, I wanted to feel this.

I wanted to feel
good
, and I didn’t want to care about anything else.

“Shannon,” he said, my name heaving out in a sigh that ignited a wave of goosebumps across my chest. “You know why I’m here.”

Will’s hands moved under the robe and over my shoulders, and the fabric fell to the floor with a soft rustle. He caged me between his legs, his thighs tightening against my hips, and my fingers dove through his hair as my mouth met his.

He reached between us, unfastened his belt, and popped the buttons on his jeans open. His clothes soon joined mine on the floor. He brought me to his lap, his erection tucked against my belly, and kissed up my neck and over my jaw to my mouth. My body had plans of its own, rocking against Will’s cock and drawing rough gasps and grunts from him.

“You want this?” he said with clenched teeth.

His jaw was locked and his fingers were digging into my hips, nearly painful, and I pressed my lips to his throat. “You went to the trouble of breaking into my apartment.
You
must want this,” I said against his skin.

Will’s hands moved from my hips to my shoulders, and he pulled me away from him. Light from the television flickered around us but neither of us stopped to turn it off. He cupped my face, angling me until we were eye to eye. “If you don’t want it, I don’t want it. Simple as that,” he said.

I nodded, and pressed myself against his chest. His arms came around me and I bit down on my lip to keep it from trembling.