Authors Note: Hiiiiii guyssssss.
I cannot believe it is the last week of August. Summer went by wayyy to quickly (as it always does)! I know there was a really large lapse in time from my last chapter to this one, which I feel terrible about. No excuses, but I do feel that by taking my time and working through this as slowly as I did, I was able to get this chapter to really start the bridge into the next arc of this story. I have a LOT I want to showcase, and now that it's effectively bridged, I am hopeful that updates will become more frequent! So, thank you for your patience!
Thank you to my friend and beta, Pia Bartolini, for her amazing edits yet again! She was extremely patient with me, checking in with me to see how progress was going, and would tag me in random posts to encourage me to keep going. And get this: she resumed teaching last week, yet managed to turn this back around to me in about 24 hours or so. YOU ARE AMAZING.
PSA: The suburb of 'Juniper' in Seattle is fictitious, so if you're trying to imagine where it may be (if you're a lucky-duck and have actually been to Seattle), I made it up XD I think I put it in the area of Magnolia (the second-largest neighborhood in Seattle, per my internet research) if you're looking for some sort of imagery?
I hope you all enjoy!
It has been exactly three weeks and four days.
Three weeks and four days since Darien put me on this project. Three weeks and four days of long hours, late nights, and intense research. Too many nights to count that I stay late to do more work while the kids are with Seiya.
… three weeks and four days since that kiss happened.
At first, I chalked it up to the heat of the moment. Us… alone… me hitting the indefinite pause button on whatever, possibly, maybe could have been?
Next, I began to obsess over it. Was it a kiss goodbye? Thanks for the hot weekend? Or was it more? Did he want more? Do I want to say goodbye?
What if that kiss was meant to tell me 'warning, warning, DON'T END IT YOU DUMMY' and I didn't listen? So, I fretted all afternoon, evening, and night.
Then came the next morning, and the kiss completely fell off my radar.
Once I got to work, I was immediately pulled into my first strategy meeting as a participant, not a measly note taker. During the meeting, I was delegated responsibilities and instructed on going through heaps of paperwork to scrutinize every minuscule piece that could lead to something. And it consumed me. My brain suddenly adapted this new way of critical thinking, and I became obsessed. A fire lit within me, urging me to keep looking, dig deeper, find a broken link.
However, I was not expecting that I would be working so closely with Darien. I mean, I should have, right? He is the lead on this whole project. Still, I found myself mystified at just how involved he became, and not just with the delegating. He jumped in on research, studied page after page of call logs, consulted with the team like he was an associate himself.
At first, I was able to ignore his presence. I was so focused, so driven, and I wanted him to see that. I wanted Darien to know how important this opportunity was for me, and I wasn't going to waste it.
The best part? It was working. Sure, the first few days I was a little unsure of how to address everyone, since I'm not exactly a paralegal, but by week's end, I was engaged. I was showcasing my strengths enough that Darien was giving me more work every day. Clearly, he trusted me to get the job done, and it only made me hungrier. The thought of reapplying to school was getting louder in my head, and the excitement over the work I was doing kept me here all hours of the night.
It wasn't until about eleven days ago that I finally fumbled.
It was nine at night. I was so deep into a case log that I didn't even hear him come in. That was, until an innocuous white cup with a green mermaid logo was suddenly in my periphery, coupled with a scent that stirred my attention.
An Americano with white mocha. My favorite.
I thanked him.
And then… he smiled.
He fucking smiled!
And just like that, whatever work high I was on suddenly paled in comparison to the forbidden fruit I had tasted just a week ago. The highlight reel of our time in Portland flooded my mind, from between the sheets to the time spent together in the conference room. How sexy it was to sneak around, how we exchanged flirty banter. And then that kiss. That kiss in his office! Why?! WHY did I have to say we shouldn't have a repeat?
We continued to work through the night. It was, oh, eleven, maybe midnight when we called it a night. I was jolted from my haze of packing up when I grasped the door handle and the memories flooded me once more. That kiss, that incredibly soul-shattering kiss we shared during the conference. How amazing his lips felt on mine, hands clasping at my waist, pulling me in closer. Deeper.
My heart sank as I opened the door in front of me, the hallway faintly illuminated by the glow of emergency exit signs.
Of course, our hands would graze as we both reached out for the light switch and feel those soft tingles against my skin, burning me, reminding me that I said no. The worst of it, though? Neither of us – neither! – moved our hand. We just stood there, in the dark, bated breath and barely touching.
Ever since then, he has been on my mind. And not in a knock him dead! kind of way, but a I want to sit on your face kind of way.
Currently, we are sitting in the same conference room we've been in for the last three weeks. Documents are spread out across a twelve-foot table, categorized in neat, organized patterns. Anne is currently seated to my right at the head of the table, quietly reviewing some document. To the left is an associate named Prisma, who is going crazy with yellow highlighter at the moment. Adjacent to me is another associate named Alan, who was closely working alongside Anne. And, of course, Darien is right across from me.
Every so often, I would flit my eyes over the top of my work to look at him. How his silky black hair was styled just so, slicked back so that his bangs won't tumble in front of those dreamy eyes of his as he reads. And did I mention the reading glasses? Silver, wire brimmed, perched on the bridge of his nose, bringing a whole heap of new fantasies to the forefront of my dreams. I mean, I was never into glasses, but on him? Hell. Yes.
Clearly, I must have faded into one of my many daydreams, because when I came back to reality, I realized that those orbs of blue I was just fantasizing about were looking right at me. Embarrassed (and busted), I dart my eyes back to my own paper, but I can still feel it. I intentionally read the next few sentences of my document, but I then slowly redirect my gaze back across the table. And he's still looking at me! And SMILING! UGH! THAT SMILE! That freaking panty dropping SMILE of his!
"Darien?" the shrew's voice, I mean Anne's voice screeches, effectively ending the little game we were playing.
Darien wastes no time in turning towards her, and for a moment I wonder if he's teasing me just because he can.
"Thoughts on calling it a day? We're closing in on six-thirty."
Darien twists his wrist to glance at his watch, silver and shiny and oh so perfect for him. "Ah, so it is. Yes, let's call it a night."
"Great! Because I have tickets for tonight's—" I tune Anne out. One thing I've learned over the last few weeks was that Anne lived for bragging rights. She intentionally instructed the mail room guys to bring a package delivered to her last week, not her office, but hand-deliver it to her, because it was her newest Prada bag. Then, she proceeded to open it and show us. Now, I'm not much for materialistic stuff – my bag is from Target – but I was a little envious when I saw it. That is, until I googled it and saw it was a $2,500 bag. It was literally a plain, black bag with the word 'Prada' stamped on it.
No thank you.
However, ending at 6:30 is good for me, especially since the kids were due home at 7:30 with Seiya. Honestly, I didn't realize it had gotten so late. Usually we go until 7, which leaves me just enough time to pull in to my driveway as the they do. However, tonight I can actually stop on my way home and get dinner! Meaning, no cereal for dinner tonight!
Not wasting another moment, I shove my materials into my bag and follow everyone out of the conference room, trailing behind Darien. First a real dinner, now Darien's ass? Hell yeah! As coy as possible, I take a good, long look at that tight tush and file it away in my Darien bank. Damn, that man has a fine-looking ass.
I break off to my desk and grab my khaki windbreaker, power down my desktop and make my way to the exit. My mind is on auto-pilot; from the elevator, the lobby, and through the double doors of the building into the parking lot. Being mid-spring, the sun is still hanging on, but the bite in the air reminds me to put on my jacket. No; no time for the jacket – there's dinner to be bought! With an extra bounce in my step, I hurry and make my way toward my blue monstrosity.
My bags land in the passenger seat as I officially decide on a chicken salad sandwich from my favorite bakery for dinner, mechanically slipping the key into the ignition and cranking it. When the engine doesn't catch the first time, though, I try again.
However, the results are the same.
"No," I whisper, denial creeping in. No way. Not now! I turn the key once more, the dread, repetitive noise of the engine turning echoing in the cabin. "No, no, no, no!" I cry out, twisting the key harder in the ignition.
I pause for a moment, trying to think of what might be causing it. The battery? No, no the light was on when I opened the door. As a sanity check, I quickly open my door and confirm the battery was not dying out as the overhead light turns on. Plus, the battery was on the newer side; Seiya just got a new one installed last summer. I jerk the key once more, hoping the brief reprieve would give it the juice it needed, but it was no use. The mocking, echoing clicking noise persisted.
I was stranded.
I drop my head. I mean, I knew this day was coming eventually. After all, Dory was a used minivan back when we bought her in 2011. The last few years consisted of cheap fixes to keep her moving just a while longer.
I let out a deep, sad sigh. This was our first family car. The kids grew up in this car, from booster seats to being obsessed with riding in the back row. I was the Mom who helped bring friends to practice, could fit the soccer nets in the back. We traveled 147 miles to the very top of Mount Rainier. Stayed sane during the long trek out to Seiya's parents every Thanksgiving thanks to the built in DVD players. Sure, Frozen was stuck in the mechanism, but it didn't stop Elsie or Alex from occasionally turning it on every now and again.
Dejected, I yank my phone out of my bag. I grimace when I see that it's now closer to 7; Seiya would be at the house with the kids within 30 minutes. A couple of taps against my screen, I let out another sigh as the phone rings.
"Yeah?" My eyes narrow from Seiya's oddly curt reply.
"Dory died in the parking lot," I relay.
"Shit," he grumbles. "When will you be home, then?"
"Uhm," I replied, taken slightly aback. That's it? When will I be home? No concern for the fact I'm currently stranded at work? "I mean, I need to, uh, get a ride, I guess?"
"Fine."
I puff my cheeks and expel a frustrated breath. "Just – just get the kids to the house. Alex has to finish his science project, and it's at the house."
"Why didn't he bring it with him?"
"Because," I lament, "It's a diorama of the solar system, and it's large, and fragile."
"Fine," he replies for a second time. I clench my fist; where the hell was this coming from? This… this crappy, misdirected attitude?
"What's your problem?"
"I don't have a problem."
"Uh, yeah you do. Sorry that the fucking car broke down and I'm stuck in the parking lot at work?"
Seiya snorts, and I swear I want to punch him. "Don't patronize me."
"Puh-lease, you're the one who's giving me shit. I didn't plan for the damn car to break down, Seiya!"
"No shit, Sherlock," he spats back at me. "I'll get the kids to the damn house, okay?"
"Fi—" My eyebrows snap together when I realize he has hung up on me. I pull my phone away from my and stare in disbelief. What, was I ruining his evening by asking him for help? It's not like he alluded to having plans or needing somewhere to be. Even so, he's their father! And I'm STUCK AT WORK!
I bop my forehead against the steering wheel a few times, the anger, frustration, exhaustion, and sadness rippling through my body with every contact. I turn the key one final time, holding out hope that maybe, juuuust maybe, it would work. However, I'm not surprised when the dead click follows. I yank my keys out of the ignition and stuff them in my purse.
Fucking brilliant.
I aggressively yank the door handle, not caring when the loud noise echoes in the parking lot, and slam it for good measure. I'll deal with towing Dory tomorrow. I pinch at the bridge of my nose; is it worth even dragging it to a repair shop? Pay someone $200 for them to tell me its dead as a door-nail? Or pay an extra $1,000 for a part that would allow it to run for another four, five months and delay the inevitable?
Dragging my fingers through my hair, I make my way back to the lobby of the building. I guess I could Uber home. But who knows how long that'll take? Lita left hours ago, so the only person I'd ask for a ride was long gone. Not wanting to delay his highness any further, I pull up the ride-share app and begin my quest to find a ride.
Taking a seat in the lobby, I stare at the roadmap, trying to decide if I should take the $20 ride 12 minutes away or the $23 ride that was 10 minutes away. Just as I hover my finger over the 10-minute option, figuring sooner was probably better for the prince of impatience, I feel a tap at my shoulder.
"Everything okay?"
My finger suspends and my eyes travel up Darien's exquisite taste in clothing to meet his quizzical expression. I am slightly surprised to see his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, clearly done for the day himself.
"No, not really," I replied with a half-frown. "My car died, so I'm calling an Uber."
"I can take you home, if you'd like," Darien immediately offers. My heart starts racing, but I am not sure if it was because of one of two things: a small, confined, private space with the sexiest man I've ever laid eyes on, or that I can sit in the passenger side of the sexiest car I've ever seen (in person, that is).
"You don't have to do that," I stumble out, awkwardly tongue-tied at this point. Fortunately for me, Darien could tell that I was half-ass refusing his offer, because he gives me that grin that turns my insides to jelly.
"Come on, put your phone away," he insists as he extends his hand out. "I'd be glad to take you home. Really." With a quick nod of my head, I shove my phone into my backpack and slip my hand into his, little bursts of electricity running up my arm as I feel my skin encounter his.
"Thank you," I utter with a smile as I stand. We remain close to each other for another moment, very aware of the pounding in my ears from the proximity, before he lets go of my hand and turns towards the doorway. For a split second, I feel sadness that the moment is over, but once I exit the building, the realization of the situation hits me:
I GET TO RIDE IN HIS CAR.
ME!
SITTING IN A MASERATI!
AWWWW YEAH!
My heels click against the pavement as I follow Darien, but my eyes are focused on the sleek contours of the jet-black vehicle in the distance. I bite my lip to contain my excitement. I have always, always dreamed of owning a luxurious sports car, and here I am, about to take a ride in one!
Darien rounds the front of the car and opens the passenger side door for me like a true gentleman. Instead of thanking him, though, my jaw involuntarily drops as I gawk at the interior, dripping in luxury touches I could only dream of. Cherry red leather seats, black and red accented dash with a screen built in that looked large enough to be a television… and I get to sit in here! "I… I get to sit in here?" I stammer, awkwardly pointing my finger towards the inside of the car. When he nods his head followed by an adorable laugh, I nearly squeal. I slip in, relishing the feel of my skirt sliding against the leather in ease (and the complete contrast to Dory's crappy fabric seats), while clutching onto my bags. Once he closed the door, I continue my gawking of the vehicle's impeccable interior, my fingers itching to glide over every detail.
Forget candlelight dinners and walks on the beach, I am instantly turned on by a sports car.
Darien materializes in the driver side, his seat positioned further back than mine to accompany for his long legs. By his knees, I noticed the start button, a concept unfamiliar to me. "Keyless?" I ask as I point in the direction of the black button. He nods in confirmation. "Cool," I quickly reply before biting my lip in anticipation.
"Ready?" he asks, a note of playfulness in his voice. I nod enthusiastically, watching like a little kid as he presses his foot against the break and pushes the start button. It's amazing how quietly the car turns over, as if it was a sleeping kitten, truly purring at the hand of its owner.
Darien extends his fingers towards the screen in his dash, commanding the computer to pull up a navigation system. "So, where am I heading?"
"I'm in Juniper, so, not too far from here," I advise him, "908 Southlake Way." His fingers tap against the screen most elegantly, finessing the touch screen. A map appears, followed by turn-by-turn instructions to my house.
I've seen navigation in cars before, but seeing my address in Darien's car makes my heart skip a beat.
Darien depresses the clutch and shifts the car in gear, and I feel a low twinge as he pulls the vehicle out of the parking spot into the lot. I intentionally cross my legs as he rounds the bend toward the exit and on to the main road, my heart beating faster as he pulls into traffic.
I can't help but keep eyes focused on Darien as he artfully maneuvers the vehicle through the busy streets of downtown Seattle. I squeeze my thighs together a little tighter as we began our descent towards suburbia, doing my best not to drool…
Because watching Darien drive said sexy car is likely the biggest turn on I have ever experienced.
Once we merge onto the highway, he casts a sideways glance at me and offers up another helping of those goo-inducing smiles. "So, does it meet your expectations?"
I press my lips together before breaking out into a large grin. "It's… it's amazing. It doesn't even feel like we're driving. It's almost like soaring!"
Darien chuckles as he merges into the middle lane. "Not quite an R8, but it's right up there," Darien reflects, and I feel my mouth suddenly run dry.
"You remember that?" I had brought that up at the Christmas party… the first time we had any sort of in-depth conversation. Honestly, I've always felt like an idiot about that night… how sad I was. How open I was with him. When my feelings really began blurring from a crush to a genuine, deeper interest him. And as much as I hated thinking about it, I had always wondered… did he take anything from that night? Did he… was he feeling the same way I was?
I see the faintest pink rise in his cheeks, and I am set ablaze. A wave of excitement flutters up my arms, my legs, until the butterflies land in my stomach. The grin has yet to leave my mouth, but my eyes settle on my folded hands in my lap, taking in the smooth, gentle motion of the ride.
It's quick – too quick – when we pull off the highway and into Juniper. I keep my breath as steady as possible as we make our way to my neighborhood. Despite the lack of real conversation, even just being in his presence has been amazing. Beyond amazing, actually. Not just the kind gesture of bringing me home, but remembering a really random, yet oddly specific piece of information I shared that night?
Really, the ride in the sexmobile was the cherry on top at this point.
My smile slowly fades the moment we turn onto my street. Normally, the vision of my road after a long day at work is comforting; only now, it means ending this time spent together. I feel the car slow down, and I point out my home a few doors down. "With the brick front," I inform him as I note the lack of vehicle by the driveway. I quickly dismiss the thought, though, as he pulls up to the curb in front of my house.
"You have arrived at your destination," the robotic voice announces, deflating the high this drive gave me. I tilt my head towards Darien and my eyes cannot help but travel from the round muscle of his shoulder and down his firm bicep, over the roll of his sleeve to his forearm, which is resting against the top of the steering wheel. His fingers are curled into a loose fist, his thumb stroking his index finger in slow, hypnotic circles. I gently bite down on the inside of my lip as I watch his thumb, and the twinge between my legs from earlier transforms into a full-on pulse.
He turns his head towards me, and I swallow hard. We hold each other's gaze and I am lost; lost in the sea of Darien's stormy eyes. I am all too aware of my breasts rising and falling. My breath no longer steady… my lips tingling with the urge to kiss him.
I allow my knees fall towards the center console. My torso follows, then my chest, and finally my neck. He is illuminated by the street lights, cloaked in abstract shapes of soft lighting and evening shadows. My lips part slightly, but words are lost to me. All I can hear is the thumping in my ears, the steady drumming instructing me to do more. To touch him. To caress him. To taste him.
I cross my ankles the moment I see him reciprocate, his body angled closer toward me. I observe as he relocates his hands to his thighs, elbow resting on the center console, right beside mine. We are centimeters apart. I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, beckoning me to make contact. I shift my hips deliberately, forcing my arm to brush against his. The soft strands from the hair on his forearm brush against my own, and the pins and needles sensation nearly sends me over the edge.
I bite down on the inner tissue of my lip. His arm moves intentionally, closer to me, until the side of his pinky suddenly grazes against my wrist. I bite my lip harder, suppressing a moan as I relish the feel of the most subtle of contact. We continue to look at one another, his fingers slowly drifting over the top of my hand, leaving a wake of tingles in their path. My knees clench, the muscles in my thighs screaming from the dynamic resistance I'm forcing upon them.
Just kiss me. Kiss me now. Please!
His fingers thread through mine, his palm nearly engulfing my hand as he shifts its position. I break eye contact, fluttering my sight to our joined hands. In a tantalizing, slow fashion, he lifts my hand, higher, higher, until I feel his breath against the bend of my fingers. At this point, my lip is being mangled by my front tooth as I desperately try to suppress lunging into his lap.
His eyelids lower, thick lashes impeding my view of his irises, and presses his lips against the curl of my fingers. A weak groan manages to escape, and I can't fight it anymore. I close my eyes and drink in the sensation of his lips against my fingers, the warmth of his hand, and especially the feeling of his thumb caressing me. He traces small circles over my fingernails, my knuckles, the sides of my finger. He kisses my fingers two, three times, before he tips my wrist. He places another gentle kiss in the space between my index finger and my thumb, and I drink in the feel of his lips against the sensitive space.
"Do you need a ride tomorrow morning?" I suddenly hear him murmur against the back of my hand, snapping me back into the semi-reality of the situation.
"If… it's not too much trouble," I stammer out, the words thick on my tongue as I attempt to regain my composure.
"I'd love to," he says again, pressing one last kiss against the back of my hand. When we disconnect, sadness washes over me; I do not want to leave this car yet. But the promise of tomorrow keeps the excitement, and the heat in my core, bubbling.
"Thank you for the ride," I say in a low voice, and I mentally applaud myself for how husky it must have sounded, because when I watch his knees press against each other, I know that he must be in the same state of arousal as me.
"You're welcome."
I pull at the door, the cool temperature of the spring weather doing nothing to calm the sprawling flames within me. I give Darien one last smile and stand, unmoving, as I watch the vehicle pull away. I purse my lips and let out a steadying breath, but it does nothing to calm me down.
Clasping my bag and coat, a grin splits my face as I make my way towards the house. However, the joy starts to slip as a very familiar creak echoes into the night.
My eyes immediately dart to the front screen door and I gulp – hard – as Seiya steps out onto the stoop.
And from the way he's looking at me, with his arms folded and one eyebrow raised, I feel turmoil rise within.
Either he saw something, or he's about to get a whole lot more suspicious.