Sending flowers to your girlfriend’s workplace was the most clichéd trick in the book of romance. A more creative man would have picked lilies, white petunias or an equally inconspicuous flower, but Andrew had gone for the classic—roses. Red roses.
The bucket-sized bouquet sat at the entrance to her office. Talk about subtlety.
“These roses are gorgeous,” Edward, the cover designer, commented. He was in her room to ask her to take a look at some concepts and designs he had come up with for the cover of Andrew’s book. “And they’re expensive. Your boyfriend really cares for you.”
The office staff, including the interns and copyeditors, had gathered around the flowers like bees, sniffing at the showy posy. There was no place for such an exorbitant luxury in her tiny office. Ashley wondered what the occasion was.
Assuming that it would be written on the note snuck amidst the roses, she plucked out the yellow envelope from the bed of roses.
To the woman who smells more ravishing than a hundred roses. Can I have the pleasure of celebrating my thirty-second birthday with you?
Breath clogged up her windpipe, refusing to be pushed down. Behind the note was the date, time and venue of the place he had chosen to meet her at.
Glad that he had reminded her, she pushed the note into her top drawer. Andrew’s birthday was still three days away.
Edward left after she assured him that she would come by his room at three to finalize the cover design for Perfect Chemistry and Andrew’s autobiography.
The final edits on the book were all done and it was already in production and up on online retailers’ websites. It was September already. Only two months until release date.
Ashley was eagerly looking forward to seeing how people would react to it. Personally, she’d loved every minute of reading the book. It was a deep and insightful account of a successful and determined man. There was no doubt in her mind that the book would be a mega success.
People responded to authenticity like they responded to nothing else and his moving account of his life was extremely genuine. At certain points in the book she had cried, reading about the rough patches Dracosys had gone through since its inception, and had wished she could have hugged Andrew every single night they had been together.
Making sense of all of it had given her a better view on why Andrew had been such an infrequent visitor in his own home those early years. The company could have lost millions of dollars if it made the slightest wrong move at that time.
The fact that he had retained his sanity through that trying year made her fill up with admiration for his mental fortitude. Not that her struggles had been any less. But she had never had to put up a brave front in front of shareholders, her spouse and the world.
Reading the book made her feel lucky for having fallen in love with a wonderful, strong, and thoughtful man. And she was going to hold onto him, because, as somebody wise had said, some chances only came once.
With a smile tugging at her lips, she started searching on Amazon.com for birthday gifts.
***
“So, this is where you’ve always imagined taking me on a date? To a church?” Ashley asked, unsure, when they passed by a cathedral.
“We’re not going into the church. We’re going to the jazz club down the road.” His hand was in hers. Though the September wind had not turned chilly yet, having something warm pressed against her skin was always welcome in any season.
“Unless you want to go in and renew our vows.” Ashley said, sarcastic.
Having meant it as a funny retort, she was surprised when he squeezed her fingers and said: “I’d like to do exactly that, actually.”
“I wasn’t serious.”
“I am.”
She bit her lip. Although she was quite sure that she loved Andrew, marrying him a second time… that wasn’t something she was jumping at doing. She’d barely given it any thought. She’d thought they would be dating forever.
What really surprised her was that the man who had, until last week, refused to date her was now throwing up the topic of matrimony all of a sudden. As the topic whirled through her brain, she finally found her stand on this. This time, sense was going to prevail over speed.
“We hurried our wedding last time. This time, I refuse to entertain any talk of marriage until we’ve been together for at least a year.” She narrowed her eyes so he understood that she was serious about this. No compromise.
“That’s a sensible thing to say. I’m proud of you.” His impish grin defused any rift the issue could have caused between them. “But I didn’t mean it literally. I just want us to reaffirm our trust in each other. In a spiritual sort of way.”
“We already did, Andrew. The night we had sex. I’d call that a reaffirmation of the highest sort.”
He grinned. “You have a point there.”
Caging her hips with his arms, he brought her body closer to his. It was an invitation. Like a slow fuse, her thread of control burned and burned, the flame getting to the point where she was ready to blow in his arms.
“I couldn’t get you to agree on car sex, but kissing in public should be tame enough, even for a risk-averse girl like you.” Andrew taunted.
“We’re not teenagers to be kissing on the street,” she scolded, though the draw of his smoldering gaze was too much to resist with her dwindling willpower.
“We grew up too fast, Ashley. All our youth, we tried to be adults. Now that we’ve become adults, let’s be reckless adolescents for once.”
She couldn’t refute it. In their twenties, they had both been so preoccupied with trying to be mature, successful, responsible adults. Rent, bills, mortgage, marriage, housework—her early twenties had passed in a blur.
Drifting to the corner of the street, coming to stop under a lamp post, she clasped her hands behind his neck. There were not many people, but there were some, crawling out of the cathedral, whose attention they already had.
“You’re a public figure now. You sure you want to do this?” She brought her lips so close to his that his pupils dilated, flushed with desire.
“If a picture of me kissing someone in public has to be splashed all over the internet, then I’d not want it to be with anyone else but you.”
The silent calling of the air he blew over her lips was the last push she needed. Arching her back against the lamp post, she grabbed his collar and sank into his lips, drawing him into the most explosive kiss of their lives. They delved deep immediately, none of them in the mood for surface pleasantries. She gave herself completely in this kiss, submerging all of her into the man who would take all of her—faults and all.
He slid his tongue over her lips, then followed it with a nibble. She was glad he hadn’t forgotten what she liked. She liked it edgy. Like the bursting of firecrackers, the rush of blood to her ears drowned out everything, including the heated whispers of people who had gathered around them.
For a long time, there was only his tongue in her mouth, teasing her slowly and drawing out all her secrets. All her insecurities. All her passion. And she gave it all away, holding nothing back. Letting him see every inch of her, devour every inch of her and love every inch of her.
He grabbed her wrist and the pad of his thumb checked her nails. Good thing she’d manicured them last week. Then he lifted a single finger up to her lips and scratched the corners of her lips with her nails. She shuddered like a shaking leaf. The nails were like teeth, but different. Sharper. Sweeter.
He pampered the regions he had poked with her nail with swipes of his tongue to lessen the ache. Just when she thought he was done, Andew opened his mouth and put her finger in.
She inhaled unsteadily. Her whole body shook from the currents that were charging them. Her finger in his mouth and her mouth… there was something inherently erotic about that.
And that wasn’t all. They passed her finger between them, taking their turns to lavish pleasure upon it. Her tongue rolled over the finger inside his mouth. In the cocooned world of their mouths, their tongues and her finger were having a threesome.
An awesome threesome that ended right at the moment when her groin started throbbing with the burning necessity to get closer to him than a kiss.
His breath, mixed with the musky scent of his cologne, spread all over her nostrils. Delicious. Sexy. Masculine.
“So how did you enjoy your first experience of finger kissing?” he wanted to know.
“I want an encore.” she demanded.
His easy laugh vibrated inside her bones. The effect he could have on her was astounding. He made her push her boundaries and try new things… and love doing them.
“Yes, me too. But not here.” Holding onto her hand, he walked her to the entrance of the cathedral. “Here.”
The receding sunlight cast a final glow on his face as it merged into the horizon. The people around them had moved on. Standing here, at this spot, she felt like she part of something ethereal. It was ending of something and the beginning of something new.
Andrew’s eyelashes tickled her bare shoulder when he rested his head on her.
He sucked on the bare skin of the crook between her neck and shoulder, and all the worry left her while she filled more pleasure into her body. When his teeth got involved too, she jerked involuntarily.
“Stop, or you’re going to leave me with a hickey.”
“Something else I didn’t get to do as a teenager.”
“It’ll be so embarrassing if I walk into work with one of those at this age,” she complained. But she couldn’t discount the sheer thrill of having him leave a mark on her. To have proof of how much he wanted her tattooed on her body.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to go that hard on you.” Andrew eased up, then shifted to her lips. “Unless you want me to.”
Through her hazy eyelids, she barely spotted the reflection of her nodding a vigorous yes. She had to venture out of her comfort zone sometimes.
His smirk creased the skin surrounding her neck. With brushes of his teeth, he circled around the same spot on her neck. Rather than spending her brain power thinking about what to wear to office the next day to cover her love bite, Ashley spent every bit of it basking in the pure, sensual indulgence of being loved.
Awareness thrummed in the veins of her neck that were stretching one by one to allow Andrew more space to make love to her skin. Her nails tore into his flesh when he sucked her throat so hard, it became impossible to stop the tremors that slicked her already moist sex with a fresh flood of heat. He was probably going to end up with some bruises of his own tomorrow. They could be a hickey pair. The thought made her insides smile.
“So what’s playing at the jazz club tonight?” she enquired casually, when he had left his mark—literally.
“I don’t care. Screw the jazz club idea. I’m too wet to sit and listen to music.” he said.
She gripped him tightly, unsure that the strength remaining in her ankles was sufficient to keep her grounded. He supported her, keeping her afloat.
“And I have a neat collection of jazz records at my place. Wanna dance naked while listening to them? We can have melting hot sex for dessert—with a scoop of ice cream.”
That was the kind of offer no one could refuse.
“What flavor?” she asked, naughtily.
“Whatever you like.”
“Cookies and cream.”
A long, steamy kiss was delivered right on the spot between her breasts. Due to her low-cut T-shirt, she felt him on her bare skin. As the smooch turned into a suck, her nipples shot up straight, hardening and sticking out through the material of her blouse, pushing right into his cheek. Alerted to their rasping call, Andrew reached with his finger and brushed over them in lazy circles. With the rough cloth brushing over her oversensitive nipples, they pulsated with rapture. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from crying out at the volcano of pleasure that was erupting in her.
The chaotic madness in the center of her core escalated, reaching breaking point as he turned his mouth to the ripe buds. Every time. He did this to her every time.
“Cookies and cream is my favorite too,” was the last thing from his mouth before he cradled the heat of her desire with his taut palm and, without even pushing down her jeans, skyrocketed her to the zenith of pleasure.
***
There were many ways to eat ice cream. But all of them lost to the carnal delight of licking it off Ashley’s wet, aroused nipples. The sugar of the ice cream mingling with the spice of her alabaster skin was purely divine.
“Do you remember you licked me off like this the very first time we had sex?” she said, transporting him back to when they had been twenty-two.
“Oh, yes.”
He hadn’t forgotten how her skin had tasted back then. But it tasted much better now. Richer. Creamier. Seven years of deprivation had made him crave the unique flavor that was innately Ashley. He laid his arm on her stomach, which was wet and sticky.
She flushed when her stomach groaned. They’d missed dinner to skip out to his apartment for a session of naked ballroom dancing and hot sex followed by a very creative way to eat dessert. But in between all this, they had let the main course slip their minds. And he could bet she was as hungry as him.
“Wash up,” he ruffled her hair. “I’ll make something.”
“We can order takeout. You don’t have to cook.” She tried to pull him back under her.
“I have dreamt of feeding you my special pasta for ages. You’ll like it.”
Ashley pouted, but then made her way to the bathroom.
When she hopped into the bath, Andrew picked out his clothes from the cupboard of his room and headed for a shower himself.
Back at the kitchen counter, he started washing peppers, onions and tomatoes. She walked out wearing his oversized white shirt and nothing else. The shirt was transparent enough to reveal her rose-tipped breasts. Droplets of water from her wet hair settled into his shirt, making it cling to her seductive frame. Need shot through him all over again. No matter how many times he had her, it seemed like he always wanted more.
“I’m borrowing this because my clothes are soiled.” She fingered the shirt then inhaled its scent.
“Put your clothes in the washing machine. The dryer will have them dried in an hour.”
She obeyed, while his eyes watered cutting the onions. Setting the pasta on boil, he watched her chuck her clothes into the machine. Her perky butt peeked out from under the hem of his shirt.
He couldn’t resist fondling the rounded mounds of her buttocks, a move that caught her unaware.
“Don’t do that, or you’re never going to finish cooking,” she warned, pressing buttons to get the washing machine started.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Ashley. I lose myself in you every single time. You make me forget everything.” He kissed her left butt cheek tenderly.
“Same here.” She moved away, probably worried that they were going to end up having sex in the kitchen.
She strode across the room to the sound system and put on some relaxing music, then wove back to his side. “Should I help you with cooking? I can chop vegetables fast.”
“No, I’ve got it,” He rinsed the pasta over a sieve and mixed up the sauce that was boiling on the adjacent burner. “Relax. Tell me about your work. How is it going?”
“It’s going on as usual. I have six manuscripts to edit. You know, thinking back, I realized that you always called me and asked me about my work, but I never asked you about yours. So, how is work, Andrew?” She climbed onto the kitchen counter, right next to where his pasta sauce was.
“Not as interesting as you, that’s for sure. When you run a business, it’s always hectic, but that keeps me energized.” he said.
“Do you ever wish you had chosen to do something less difficult?”
“Everything else would have been harder for me, because I wouldn’t have loved it as much. Doing something you’re passionate about is as easy as it gets.”
She dunked her finger into the pasta sauce and sucked it. “You wrote that line in the book, didn’t you? I remember reading it.”
“I might have.”
He turned on the stove and gave the pasta a stir. The smell sharpened around them.
“Talking about work reminds me that your book release is in two months. Pre-orders surpassed one thousand, by the way.”
“Is that good?” One thousand sounded small compared to the numbers he usually dealt with.
“It’s great! With two more months to go, I’m sure that number will shoot up.”
Andrew smiled at her optimism under the shadow of the cabinets and unearthed two plates from the shelves. He poured the boiling fettuccine onto the white ceramic and set the plates down on the kitchen counter. She took hold of both the plates and put them on the table. Then they settled on the two wooden chairs at opposite ends of the table. The distance was deliberate to force them to keep their hands off each other. Not touching her had never seemed like such an impossible task.
She rolled strands of flat pasta on her fork and put them in her mouth. The threads were coated with his ‘secret’ white sauce.
“Hot!” she screamed out after spooning a bit too much pasta into her mouth. She exhaled air to cool her tongue. But it was already burnt.
Andrew leapt to fetch her a glass of water. She sipped it.
“You need anything else?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry.”
She drained every drop of water from the glass, so he brought a bottle from the refrigerator and set it on the table.
“How’s the pasta?” he enquired, a bit nervous. This was the first time he’d made anything for her.
“Does the pace at which I’m eating tell you nothing?” She’d emptied half her plate while his was mostly full.
“It only tells me that you were starving.” he said.
“It’s delicious.” A thread of pasta fell out of her stuffed mouth. “Really delicious. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“Mine too.” Something passed between them when she said that. “Oh, I remembered something.”
“What?”
“Do you remember when I told you Carl called me? He said something that I thought you should know. He said he was proud of you.”
Andrew was glad he hadn’t put something into his mouth or he would have choked.
“You’re sure he said that? It wasn’t a misunderstanding?”
“No, he said those words very explicitly. I was shocked too. Maybe he’s had a change of heart.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” Andrew tried to act disinterested.
But the perceptible flutter in his chest told him that it did matter. Still, he had to hear it from the old man’s mouth to convince himself.
“It does. If you can set things right with him, your unwillingness to have children might vanish.” She was being exceedingly optimistic here.
“He’s not the only reason I don’t want to have kids,” Andrew admitted.
She picked up and swallowed the last bit of food from her plate. “What else is holding you back?”
Not wanting to discuss his emotional issues, Andrew withdrew and changed the subject immediately. Even despite being dutiful in his appointments with Dr. Clark and doing all the workbooks and stuff, he had not seen much improvement in the symptoms of his anxiety disorder. He had neglected his condition for so long, it had become rooted deep in his psyche. Although Dr. Clark was optimistic about his recovery, he did not expect it to happen in less than a year.
“Weren’t you the one who said to put off thinking about such things until next year?”
She lifted her legs under the table and it shook the whole table. “But we’ll have to face it next year.”
Andrew liked how convinced Ashley was that they would survive the year together. She stated it like it was obvious.
“We’ll face it then.” he said.
“Why not now? I want to know, Andrew. Don’t exclude me from this.”
Immediately his mind jumped to her reaction. How would she react if he told her he was still affected by what had happened and he might never recover? He didn’t want to dump more guilt on her. It was better that he faced it all alone. For now, at least.
“I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
“Okay, but is this something you can overcome?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you’re trying?” Her intuition might have caught onto something, because she was asking him all the right questions.
“Trying hard.” he assured.
“Then you’ll do it. You always accomplish what you set out to do.”
