JENNIE

On friday, I decided to follow through on the threat to give Lisa a massage.

You. Tonight. My place. No argument.

Are you going to have whips and chains?

No. I'm going to have candles and massage oil.

I think I'd prefer the whips and chains.

Tough. I've listened to you gripe about sore muscles for weeks now, and I want to help.

Will you be naked?

If I say yes, will you agree to let me do it?

It would definitely sway me in that direction.

Then yes. I'll be naked.

Look for me about 7.

I'll be waiting.

And I get to be the boss tonight.

We'll see about that.

That afternoon, I gave Jisoo a call.

"I thought you were coming to visit me," she whined. "You said the kids were going somewhere and you'd have days off."

"I said maybe I would come to visit you," I corrected with a laugh. I put her on speaker and set the phone aside so I could fold my laundry. "But the tickets were expensive, and I really need to save my money."

"So what have you been doing while they're gone?" she asked.

"Oh, this and that," I said airily, pulling Lisa's TWO MANOBANS T-shirt from the basket. It made me smile.

"Does 'this and that' include your hot boss?"

"It might."

She gasped. "Details!"

"We're having fun."

"But like how much fun?"

"All the fun," I confessed.

"Every night?"

"Every night, every room of the house, every which way you can imagine." I folded my yoga shorts.

Jisoo groaned loudly. "God, I'm so jealous. I remember those days. So is she good?"

"So good I can't describe it."

"Body?"

I closed my eyes, picturing her. "Ten out of ten."

"Package?"

"Long, strong, and she knows how to use it."

"Thank god. Nothing worse than someone who's hung but helpless."

I snorted, matching a pair of socks. "For real."

"So are you guys dating or just messing around?"

"Just messing around," I said. "It has to end when the kids come back."

"When is that?"

"Sunday." I tried to sound cool and casual, which was how I wanted to feel.

"In two days? Jeez. No wonder you guys are going at it like rabbits. That stinks."

"No, I think it's better."

"Why?"

"Because I like that we both know the score. It feels even." I folded my sports bra. "No one will be blindsided by the end."

"If you guys have such good chemistry, why let it end?"

"That would get awkward, because of the kids. I've still got another month here, and I need this job. If something went wrong with Lisa—"

"But what if something goes right?"

"She's not really a dater," I said, avoiding the question. "She's told me several times she likes being single. She's one of those who doesn't do feelings. Not in an asshole way, just in a sort of businesslike way. Like, she's here to deliver the orgasms, get the signature, and get back in the truck."

She laughed. "Okay, but what if—"

"There are no what ifs, Jisoo," I said, getting up from the couch and wandering over to the window. "The boundaries were established from the start. I flat out told her I was not looking for a relationship. It's casual. Temporary. Just for fun."

"If you say so."

"I say so," I told her, wishing I felt so. "I'm just going a little wild because I was all cooped up for a year. I'm enjoying my freedom. And my orgasms."

She laughed. "Sounds like it. Well, good for you."

"And besides, no use in carrying on when I'm leaving in a month anyway. It would just be delaying the inevitable. Better now than later."

"That's true, I suppose. Hey, did Scott Blackstone reach out yet?"

"No, is he going to?"

"He told Haein he was. Haein said he was super excited to hear you were interested in the job."

"Oh, that's awesome. Please thank Haein for me."

"I will, and let me know as soon as you hear from Scott. Next, we need to find you a place to live! Let me ask around—I'm still close with a lot of the current Rockettes and maybe someone is looking to sublet or share a two-bedroom or something."

"Thanks, Jisoo. I appreciate it."

We hung up, and I put my clean clothes away, trying to get excited about moving back to Manhattan.

But all I could think of was leaving here. Leaving her. Somehow New York City was losing its appeal.

I repeated the words I'd said to Jisoo.

It's not like that with us. It's casual. Temporary. Just for fun. We are not dating, and there are no feelings involved.

And when my heart tried to argue, I repeated them again.

And again.

And again.

When she knocked on my door about quarter after seven, I was ready. The shades were drawn, the lights were out, and a dozen candles flickered in the dark. Dreamy spa music played on my phone in the bedroom, and I'd covered the bed with towels. On the nightstand was the fancy massage oil I'd splurged on at a high-end Main Street boutique, which offset the dollar-store candles.

I opened the door wearing a sundress, and she immediately frowned. "You said—"

"Relax," I said, bringing her inside. She wore only her sweatpants and plain shirt, and her hair was damp from the shower. I could smell her shampoo. "Come here."

Leading her into the bedroom, I gestured toward the bed. "Okay, take off your clothes and lie down."

She gamely doffed her sweats and climbed onto the bed, stretching out on her back, hands behind her head. "My body is ready."

"Turn over. Lie on your stomach."

"But my fun bits are on the front."

"Do it, please." I gave her a stern look.

"Take off the dress first."

Sighing, I pulled the dress over my head and tossed it aside, then shimmied out of my underwear. "There."

"Well, now I don't want to turn over. I want to look at you." Her eyes swept over my skin, which bore fading marks from the last two nights, and her cock began to swell.

I put my hands on my hips. "Don't make me get rough with you, Manoban."

She groaned and flopped over onto her stomach. "I'm giving you five minutes. And then I'm getting rough with you."

"Shhhh. Just relax." Grabbing the bottle of massage oil from the nightstand, I straddled her hips, sitting on her ass.

She moaned. "This is just cruel."

"Hush. Put your hands by your head." I rubbed some oil into my hands and started with light strokes up and down either side of her spine, between her shoulder blades, and on the back of her neck.

"That actually feels pretty good," she said. "Much better than the revenge massage."

"This is just the warm-up," I informed her. "I'm about to get mean."

Increasing the pressure, I worked all the muscles of her back and shoulders and neck, then moved on to her arms. She groaned and cursed me out a few times, especially when I used my elbows, but I could feel the knots loosening up. I scooted down and massaged her legs and feet, admiring the solid thighs and calves. I let my hands glide up her inner thighs and get close to her fun bits, but I was careful not to touch them. I didn't want her to get turned on and take over—I had a plan.

I saved her butt for last and had a good time kneading the firm flesh with my hands, enjoying the string of curses she muttered. "Okay, now you can turn over," I told her.

She rolled onto her back. "Are you going to straddle me again?"

"In a minute." I started with her legs, moving from ankle to thigh. Her cock was hard, and it jumped when my hands came near it. Finally, I knelt with a leg on either side of her thighs and took it in my hands, which were warm and slick with the oil.

"Fuck, yeah," she said, reaching for my breasts.

I pushed her hands away. "No touching, Ma'am."

"You didn't mention that rule before."

"Just lie back, please. You're going to like this." I moved up, straddling her torso to rub her pecs and deltoids and biceps. "Doesn't that feel good?"

"Yes," she said, scowling. "It does, but I'm dying to get my hands on you."

"I know. You love your hands on me. And your mouth. Look at the marks you've made."

Once more, she admired the bruises lingering on my skin. "I fucking love them."

"Now it's my turn." I crawled over to the nightstand, set the massage oil down and grabbed my red lipstick. Then I straddled her hips, trapping her cock between us.

She watched as I applied the lipstick, slowly painting my mouth with my favorite shade of red.

"Fuck me," she growled, gripping my thighs.

"Eventually," I said. "We should discuss consent."

"Like permission?"

"Yes. Do I have your permission to leave marks on your skin?"

"You have my permission to do any fucking thing you want."

"Good." I started with her neck and worked my way down, leaving a kiss print on her throat, her collarbone, her shoulder, her tattooed bicep, her nipple, which I licked and sucked, aroused by the way it hardened against my tongue. I teased the other one with my fingertips, and her breathing grew heavy and hard.

Moving down her legs, I left kiss marks on her ridged abs, her hip bones, both sides of her V lines, which I traced with my tongue. Then I took a moment to reapply, gliding the color on and rubbing my lips together. Her body already had the power to turn me on, but those kiss marks on her skin had my blood running hot.

I lowered my head and pressed my lips to either side of her cock, getting just close enough to torture her. Then lower, on her thighs. Then just above the spot where the tip rested, glistening and smooth.

"Jennie." A plea. A rebuke. A prayer.

I smiled and gave her what she wanted, taking her erection in my hand and positioning it in front of my mouth. Then I slid my lips down her rigid length, taking her as deep as I could. When I couldn't fit another inch of her in my mouth, I contracted my lips as well as I could, then slowly lifted my head, squeezing her shaft along the way, wanting to leave rings of Don't F*ck With Me red in my wake. She grunted and cursed, her hands fisting in the towels on the bed.

When I got to the top, I pressed a kiss to the tip and looked at what I'd done. "A masterpiece," I said. "A work of art."

"I need to fuck you. Right now."

But I bent my head and took her deep once more, bobbing my head in a steady rhythm, rubbing my painted lips up and down her cock. She pulsed once in my mouth, and I tasted her on my tongue.

"That's it." Bolting upright, she hooked me beneath the arms and dragged me up her body. "I want you to ride it. Now."

"So much for me getting to be the boss." But I reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom.

"I'll let you be on top. That's the compromise."

She watched as I rolled the condom on, her entire body radiating impatience. When I positioned her between my legs, she gripped my hips, moaning as I sank down, inch by inch. When she was sheathed inside me, I went still for a moment, my hands on her chest, my eyes closing, giving my body a moment to adjust to being invaded so deeply and fully.

Then I started to move—slow, languorous rocking motions in time to a lazy beat. She fastened her mouth to one breast, each pull resonating deep within me. Cradling her head in my hands, I circled my hips a little faster, feeling her grow harder inside me, my need for release spiraling higher. But even as all my muscles tightened, my body felt free and easy and loose. I was heat, I was golden, I was liquid, I was passion. I was motion, I was friction, I was rhythm, I was desire.

And I was the object of her desire. I was wanted. I was craved. Beneath her hands, my skin caught fire. Beneath her mouth, my body begged for more. I rode her with shameless abandon, tugging her hair, scratching her back, clutching her shoulders. I took what I wanted, what I needed, reveling in the way my core was tightening around her, in the way she drove into me, in the way our bodies moved in perfect harmony.

"Come for me," she growled, barely taking her mouth from my breast. "I want to feel your pussy come on all those marks you left."

Her words pushed me over the edge, and my climax tore through me, my body clenching around her again and again. She came immediately after I did, her cock throbbing within my fluttering walls. It was heavenly perfection, as if we'd been made for each other. How was anyone else ever going to measure up?

Don't think about that, I warned myself as I caught my breath.

Lisa fell back and took me with her, so my head rested on her chest. Her arms came around me and her heart thundered in my ear. I closed my eyes and listened to its rhythm slow.

"So was the massage just an excuse to put those kiss marks all over me?"

"No. But I can't say I didn't enjoy it. Did you?"

"Yes. But you can never put on lipstick in front of me again, because I will immediately get a hard-on."

I smiled. "Good to know."

We slept at my apartment. Saturday morning, Lisa was gone when I woke up. I reached for my phone and saw she'd texted.

Didn't want to wake you. Working with my dad today, then running a few errands. I'll call you later.

My shoulder and neck feel better than they have in months, so thank you for that.

And thank you for this.

The next thing ahe'd sent was a photo of her chest—her collarbone still wore the kiss mark I'd put there last night. It made me smile.

I washed the rest of them off in the shower this morning. DAMN that stuff is hard to remove. But I couldn't resist leaving this one alone.

I'm glad. I like thinking about it.

And about you.

Must be why I'm always doing it.

After I hit send, I wondered if that was too much. We didn't really message mushy stuff to each other, just logistics and sometimes dirty things. Maybe I was overthinking it.

But I couldn't help comparing the experience of receiving her photo to the last time a guy had sent me one—Chan's wedding-day dick pic. I shook my head. That one made my stomach turn. This one made my heart flutter.

I lay back in bed, draping an arm over my forehead. If I'd met Lisa at another time in my life, or in her life, could things have been different between us? I couldn't imagine when that might have been, since I was only twenty-two when she'd become a parent.

We'd never really stood a chance.

That afternoon, I ran into Ari at the salon, where I'd lucked out with an appointment to get my nails done last-minute. She'd just gotten a haircut and highlights.

"You look fabulous," I told her as we left the salon together. "I hope you have a hot date tonight."

"I do—with my Kindle." She laughed. "We get hot and steamy on my couch every Saturday night. I light a candle, open some wine . . . book boyfriends never let me down. Hey, you want to grab coffee or something?" She tossed her mahogany waves over one shoulder. "I don't want to waste this hair entirely."

"Sure," I said. "I have some time."

We headed up the block toward a place called L'Arbre Croche Café. "What are you up to tonight?" she asked.

"Lisa and I are going to dinner at The Pier Inn."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Lisa Manoban?"

I laughed. "Yes."

"So are you two . . ." She trailed off dramatically.

"We're just friends."

"Lisa's never taken any other friends to dinner at The Pier Inn," she said, elbowing me.

"I'm sure she has."

She shook her head. "This is a small town. And Lisa is one of its most eligible bachelors. Trust me—I'd have heard about it. That one doesn't date."

"She's mentioned that a few times."

We reached the café, and she pulled the door open. "Ryujin is always giving her shit about it."

After placing orders at the counter, we moved toward the pickup station. "You and Ryujin have been friends a long time, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. For as long as I can remember. If we weren't at her house, we were at my house. My mom was really close to her mom," she explained. "So my parents were always trying to help out. Mr. Manoban had his hands full—although Lisa did a lot too."

"That's what I hear." We picked up our drinks and moved to a table by the window.

"When she wasn't working, she was doing something for one of the other kids. It had to be frustrating to see all her friends goofing off or going out when she had responsibilities."

"Yeah."

"She'd take it out on Taeyong. Those two used to beat the crap out of each other." Ari shook her head. "But if anyone else messed with Taeyong, Lisa would be the first to defend him, and vice versa."

I nodded and sipped my cold brew. "They're such a close family. I hope I get a chance to meet the other siblings."

"Jimin doesn't get home too often. Yedam usually honors everyone with his presence around the holidays." She rolled her eyes.

"Not a fan?" I asked.

"He just gets on my nerves," she said with a shrug. But the way her cheeks were suddenly painted raspberry-pink told me there was probably history there.

"Do I sense a crush?"

The raspberry turned to crimson. "No," she said emphatically. "He's like an older brother to me. And he treats me like another little sister. He always has."

Oh, there was a crush all right. But I let it go for now. "So let me ask you this. When you guys were all growing up, did Lisa ever have a serious girlfriend?"

She exhaled and looked out the window for a moment, like she had to think hard. "Not that I recall. But Ryujin and I were a lot younger. When she was in high school, we were still pretty little. I do know that once the twins arrived, she never dated anyone around here. The town biddies are always trying to set her up—my mother has tried to get her to take every single one of my cousins out—but she just doesn't do it. If she didn't have those kids, I might think she wasn't that into women."

"She's definitely into women," I confirmed without thinking.

Her eyes met mine and widened like full moons. "You sound very certain of that. Almost like you had inside information."

Heat crept up my neck and into my face.

"And now you're blushing," she pointed out. She sipped on her straw, waiting for me to say more.

"Uh . . ." I tried to think of a way to cover for myself, but the truth was that I was dying to talk about this with someone who knew Lisa. Could I trust Ari? "So this is a bit delicate."

"I am the soul of discretion. You can ask Ryujin—I was one thousand percent the better secret-keeper between the two of us."

I hesitated. Was this okay? I mean, Taeyong knew, right? And Ari was like family. "Okay, but this really needs to stay between us."

She crossed her heart.

"So ever since I met Lisa, there's been this . . ."

"Tension between you," Ari said with a nod. "I saw it the day you came in for breakfast. And everyone saw it at The Broken Spoke."

"Were you there that night?" I couldn't remember seeing her.

She shook her head. "I didn't need to be. Small town. Go on."

"Okay. So we sort of agreed that it would be inappropriate to act on it once she hired me, but that line grew a little fuzzy once the kids left for California."

"And by fuzzy you mean it disappeared entirely."

I snapped my fingers. "Like that."

"So?" Her eyes danced. "How was it?"

"So good you wouldn't believe me if I told you." I took a breath. "So good I don't want it to stop."

"Why would it stop?"

"Because the kids are coming home. And we agreed from the get-go that was the finish line."

Ari tilted her head. "Have you talked about it since?"

"Not really." I shook the ice around in my cup. "I can't bring myself to ask her what she's thinking."

"Why not?"

My fear of rejection seemed like a lot to get into right now. "I'm just worried that the answer won't be what I want it to be."

"I get that," she said. "It's scary to put yourself out there, especially if you laid out the parameters beforehand."

"We did. That's exactly it—we did. I'm afraid that she might get upset with me for trying to change the rules. And we'd have to sneak around behind the kids' backs. And I'm leaving in a month anyway, you know?"

Ari thought for a moment. "Do you have to leave in a month?"

"Yes. The nanny job is over mid-August. I'm going back to New York."

"You have a job lined up already?"

"I'm working on it."

"I'm just wondering if there was a way you could stay here. Find a different job."

"And live where?"

She shrugged. "Over Lisa's garage."

I shook my head. "No. I can't suggest that. It's way too much." And I would rather die than see the look on Lisa's face as she tried to let me down easy, or worse, agreed to let me stay even though she didn't really want me to because she thought it was the right thing to do. What if she said yes because of her sense of duty? What if she felt obligated to say yes because she promised she'd never hurt me, but she didn't really want me to stick around?

My skin started to prickle. My heart began to pound. Suddenly I felt like I couldn't breathe, and little gray dots began to swim before my eyes. A siren went off in my head.

"Hey, are you okay?" Ari asked.

I refocused on her concerned face. "What?"

"You suddenly turned white."

"Oh, sorry." Closing my eyes, I inhaled and exhaled. "Just a little panic attack."

"Need some air? Want to go outside?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Come on." We got up from the table and she took my arm, leading me back out into the sunshine.

I gulped several breaths of fresh summer air—fudge. The lake. The baskets of fragrant flowers hanging off each streetlamp on Main Street. Gradually, my pulse decelerated, and my skin stopped tingling.

"Better?" she asked.

"Better."

"I'm sorry for upsetting you. I didn't mean to."

I shook my head. "It's not you. Believe me, it's nothing I haven't thought about, I just can't face my fears enough to do it. We've only known each other for a few weeks. It seems ludicrous to suggest that what we have might be worth upending our lives for."

"Well, I don't know." She smiled. "Have you ever heard the story about Mr. and Mrs. Manoban?"

"Yes. Lisa told me."

"So it can happen quickly. And someone can swear up and down he's never going to fall in love, but the right woman comes along, and boom—he burns down a city for her."

I laughed ruefully. "I think you've been out with too many book boyfriends."

She sighed heavily. "I know. It's a problem."

Back at home, I got ready for our not-a-date, telling myself just to relax and have a good time tonight. Not to think about tomorrow. Not to think about leaving her. Not to think about loving her.

One final, glorious night before the curtain came down.