Chapter Ten
Reeve stopped by Jill’s apartment in the morning. He was nervous about tonight’s dinner. But he wasn’t sure why. Then he figured that he always got a little nervous before he went on stage, and that was probably the case here. Nerves were a good thing, right? When he was acting, he used those nerves to fuel his performance. Nerves made him sharp, they made him go deeper into the character. The more nerves he felt, the easier it was to let go of himself when he stepped on stage and immerse himself in the role he was playing.
Jill’s roommate Kat had just returned from Paris and was a wreck, Jill had told him. Reeve remembered the night he met Kat at the club in Soho. They’d chatted after the Les Mis performance and had talked about movies and their shared love of Joss Whedon. He’d even asked her out for a drink, but she’d said no and he’d had a feeling she was into someone else. Jill had confirmed as much a few days later. But right now, Reeve didn’t care. Because he was kinda into someone else too.
Jill buzzed him in and he bounded up the steps to the second floor apartment, the soles of his combat boots smacking the concrete in the stairwell. Jill flung the door open for him.
“How’s my favorite boy toy?” she said with a knowing grin.
He held out his hands, a satisfied smile on his face. Truth be told, he was kind of a wreck too. But he needed to get in character. He needed to play the part. After last night, he wasn’t sure where things stood. He’d taken Sutton back to her place, and done everything he promised he’d do to her. And she’d screamed and cried and thrashed and moaned in a way that made him want to spend the entire night deep inside her body, and then do it again, and make her beg for it. He had a feeling Sutton would be into that. That she’d like those kind of games. He’d tie her up somewhere, maybe the bedroom, maybe the kitchen, and he’d work her into such a frenzy with his tongue and his mouth, always pulling back right before she came. Until she slapped him across the cheek and said, “F*ck me now, please f*ck me now, I’m begging you.”
Yeah, he could picture that for sure. The problem was the damn image was turning him on, especially because that’s not what happened last night. After he made her sing his praises to the heavens—“oh my god Reeve, that feels so good, no one has ever made me feel this good before, this feels so abso-f*cking-lutely amazing”—in a chorus she repeated many times, she’d curled her up with her dog, said thanks, and then sent him on his way.
“You ready to go get some pancakes?” Jill said to Reeve since they were planning on grabbing a late breakfast at a nearby cheap diner.
“Yup.”
Then, there was a flurry of activity in the hall. Both Jill and Reeve glanced in the direction of the sound. Jill’s roommate Kat had just rushed out of her room, and was jamming her arms into a coat. She had on jeans and boots and a frazzled look on her face. Her long brown hair was loose.
“Hey. I have to go see my professor now.”
“You going to go sweet talk him into giving you an A?” Jill said in a teasing voice.
But Kat looked deadly serious. She shook her head. “No,” she said heavily. “I’m going to tell him that I’m totally madly in love with my mentor for the class.”
“Whoa.”
Then, Kat noticed Reeve. “Oh, hey. How’s it going?”
“Good. And good luck with that chat with your professor.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Jill asked Kat.
Kat nodded. “I have to. I can’t keep playing games and sneaking around. After what happened in Paris…” Kat let her voice trail off and Reeve noticed something pass between the girls. A secret. Something about what had happened in Paris between Kat and, presumably, the mentor dude she was in love with.
Jill nodded, her blond ponytail bouncing once as if in agreement. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. We’re rooting for you.”
Kat grabbed Jill in a hug, then rushed off.
Jill turned to Reeve as she shut and locked the door. “Love is in the air, I suppose. I wonder if I’ll get my turn.”
“You’re too in love with Broadway. I can’t imagine there’d be any room for a dude.”
“If that dude was Patrick Carlson, maybe,” Jill mused as they walked down the stairs. “My audition with him for Crash the Moon is in four days and counting.”
“Not that you’re ticking off every minute.”
“No. Not at all.”
“You should just go right up to him and tell him you’ve only been madly in love with him since you were in high school.”
“Speaking of madly in love, how’s it going as man-for-hire?” Jill asked as they reached the sidewalk and headed to the diner.
Reeve shrugged, then gave Jill the latest update. “Maybe she’s the player. Maybe she’s just playing me for sex.”
“And that bothers you because?”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Reeve said, but his voice trailed off.
Jill’s eyes went wide and she stopped, putting her hands on her hips. “You have fallen for Sutton Brenner.”
He scoffed. “Hardly. Now, c’mon. Let’s go,” he said, feeling pretty proud of himself for pulling off that convincing performance.
Then he remembered what Kat did for a living. She was a jewelry designer. “Hey, Jill. Think your roommate can do me a favor?”
Sutton sent a car to pick up Reeve. She knew if she saw his apartment, she’d start to feel more for him, and she couldn’t allow that. The week was nearly up and they could soon return to passing acquaintances. Fine, he was an acquaintance who hit notes on her body that had never been played before. He’d gone down on her the night before and delivered two out-of-this-world orgasms that made her feel as if the sun and moon and solar system were rotating around her, that the sheer wattage of pleasure he’d given her with his mouth and tongue and lips could power the universe.
Still, she’d simply have to tuck him into the faraway corner of her brain after tonight. But his prowess with her body wasn’t the most unjust part of this whole week. The real rub was this—he was sweet, and he was good, and he could keep up with her. He was his own man, with his own opinions, and he wasn’t afraid of a thing. There were times when he seemed to genuinely care for her, and there were times when he touched her in a way that went beyond the intense charge between them. The way he’d kissed her on the library steps with a kind of reverence, as if he’d missed her. And the way he’d laid her down on her bed and spread her legs as if he were hungry for her, not just her body, but her.
She waved her hand in front of her face, as if she could rid herself of these ludicrous notions, then she appraised herself one last time in the mirror. She had on a pretty dove gray dress with long sleeves and a hemline that hit just above the knees. Then her black leather boots, and a single silver bracelet on her right wrist. She’d pinned her hair up as usual, and she wore her glasses, her twin efforts to look twenty-eight, rather than the twenty-one she was often mistaken for. She looked sophisticated and sharp, and when the town car arrived with Reeve already in the back seat, so handsome in his charcoal slacks, green button down, and a tie, she felt a surge of happiness at seeing her boyfriend.
Then she remembered he was only her pretend boyfriend, so she tamped it down. “You look very nice,” she said to him.
“As do you. And look,” he said tipping his forehead to a plate on the seat next to him, full of chocolate chip cookies covered in saran wrap. “Remember I told her in your office I made great chocolate chip cookies?”
Sutton beamed. “You are the perfect boyfriend.”
“And I have something for you,” he added.
She raised an eyebrow curiously, as he removed from his pocket a small velvet pouch, then reached inside. Something sparkled in his hand, and it looked almost like a diamond. Her eyes widened, and she let that joyful feeling return. She did love shiny objects.
“It’s just a little something. It’s not a real diamond, and I’m not trying to claim it’s real, but I thought we could pretend it’s a placeholder ring while you get yours resized.” He held the ring in his palm and with his other hand, he reached for her.
Her heart skipped a beat as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Oh, Reeve. I love it. How did you get it? It fits perfectly.”
He shrugged sheepishly. “I’m actually pretty good with sizes. It’s this strange hidden talent of mine. And my friend Jill’s roommate is a jewelry designer, so she knocked this out for us.”
“This is ridiculously perfect,” she said, and placed her bejeweled hand on the back of his head and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
A fake kiss, of course. It was only a fake kiss to get her in the right mindset. But the way he lingered softly, the way he sighed happily, made it feel real.
Then she settled back in the leather seat and they said little more on the short drive to the penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue. They didn’t say much on the elevator either. She knocked on the door, and Janelle answered.
“Good to see you,” Janelle said, letting the tiniest sliver of a smile slip across her slick red lips. Janelle wore a maroon dress with a high neck and for moment Sutton wondered if Janelle was hiding hickeys. Then, she remembered that Janelle had supposedly cut Frederick off til he proved he could keep it in his pants. But rather than ruminate on the sleeping arrangements of this woman, Sutton handed her the bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay she’d selected from the local wine shop on her block.
“It’s a 2011. It’s supposed to be wonderful, so I very much hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Janelle said, waving them inside the penthouse.
“And here are the cookies as promised,” Reeve said, handing her the plate of baked goods.
“I can not wait to eat them.” Then she plucked one from under the saran wrap and popped it into her mouth. She rolled her eyes in pleasure, then whispered. “Best. Ever.”
Reeve smiled.
“Let me just put this wine in the wine cellar,” Janelle added. “Though, it’s not really a cellar. It’s more of a closet. But I still call it a cellar. Come with me. I’ll show it to you.”
Janelle escorted them to the spacious kitchen, which itself was the size of Sutton’s whole apartment. There was an island, a massive Viking stove, and a huge Sub-Zero built-in refrigerator. As Janelle placed the cookies on the island, the Siamese cat sashayed by.
“Hello, Archibald,” Sutton said to the feline. As felines do, he ignored her and wandered into another room.
Janelle led them to an oak door that opened into a long narrow hallway full of bottles of wine. The lights were low in the wine cellar-slash-closet and the temperature was cooler. Sutton shivered, and Reeve placed an arm around her. His touch was warm, and she leaned briefly into it.
Janelle placed the wine in a rack, and then gestured as if she were presenting winning letters on a game show. “Voila. And here it is. In case you should need to find it later.” Then she whispered, as if they were in on something. “It’s fun for all sorts of things.”
Sutton wasn’t sure how to respond, so she kept her reply on the level. “Lovely. Great. We’ll know exactly where it is.”
“Oh, by the way, I keep meaning to ask. How was Renaissance Astrology?”
Sutton looked quickly at Reeve, who smirked knowingly.
“I think it’s going to work out just fine for that scene. Just fine indeed,” Sutton said.
“Really? Are you sure?” Janelle pressed.
“Yes. I’m quite sure.”
Janelle grinned, and pointed from Reeve to Sutton. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me. You two didn’t test it out, did you?”
There was something strangely salacious in Janelle’s question and Sutton was flummoxed. She couldn’t tell if Janelle was a prude or a pervert. Reeve tightened his grip on Sutton’s shoulder in a possessive way, then he spoke. “Let’s just say, we are one hundred percent positive that it’s the perfect location.” He winked at Janelle, and leaned into Sutton, dusting a kiss on her cheek. “Aren’t we, babe?” he said to her.
He knew how to handle Janelle. How to play her, so Sutton made a choice to trust him. “Yes, we are.”
They left the wine closet and as Janelle headed toward the living room, Reeve pulled Sutton aside and spoke in a low voice.
“I think she might be a bit like the woman who runs the escort agency in Escorted Lives.”
“No. Really?”
He nodded. “I’m betting she’s kind of a voyeur herself.”
“Oh, that’s totally not the case,” Sutton said, but then found herself wondering if perhaps life was imitating art in some bizarre way with Janelle.
Reeve and Sutton joined the Pinkertons in the living room, where Nicholas and Frederick sat like puffy buffoons on an antique-looking couch. They made small talk for the next hour as a caterer circled by offering hamachi, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus and stuffed mushrooms. Then it was time for dinner and they moved to the dining room, which boasted a gorgeous view of Central Park, wide and expansive from the tenth floor of the penthouse. Once again, Janelle stationed herself next to Reeve, much as she had at the theater. Did Janelle have a crush on Reeve? Well, if she did Sutton couldn’t blame her. But if that woman tried to steal her boyfriend, she’d claw her eyes out.
Wait. Fake boyfriend. If Janelle tried to steal her fake boyfriend…Oh, nevermind.
At the table, they chatted about movies and golf and the pending wedding and once again Reeve rose to the occasion answering all sorts of questions without a moment’s hesitation.
“And how did you know, Reeve? How did you know that Sutton was the one for you?” The question came from Nicholas’ wife across the table.
Reeve turned his attention to his fake fiancé. “How did I know?” he said as if he were contemplating the answer. “I’ll tell you how I knew. Because there was no way not to know. There was no way it could be otherwise. I’d fallen hard for this woman from the moment I first met her. And the more I got to know her, the more I liked her.”
“Oh that is so sweet,” Nicholas’ wife said.
“Tell us more,” Janelle chimed in.
Sutton looked at the two wives. They seemed to be hanging on every word Reeve said to her. It was as if they were being romanced by him. Maybe that’s what they wanted. To feel loved vicariously by a gorgeous, beautiful, thoughtful young man. Sutton understood that sort of wish.
“Every day it became more clear. It’s the way she takes care of her dog, and the way she teases me. It’s the books she likes and the wry sense of humor. It’s the way she likes all the things I do for her. It’s the way she lets me save her when she needs saving. And the way she takes charge when she needs to take charge. It’s the way she’s so tough on the outside, but inside I can see through her and I know what’s in her heart. It’s the way she only lets me know what’s really in her heart. It’s the way she says yes. Most of all, it’s the way she says yes.”
Sutton placed a hand on her belly, as if she could quell all the feelings, all the emotions, all the desire he’d stirred in her. To say those things in front of everyone. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and smother him in kisses. Forget all the make-believe. She was ready to go all in.
But yet, she knew better. She had to guard her heart. She had to be strong. She must refuse to let herself be seduced by the act.
“And I guess, most of all it’s that she chose me. She’s the kind of woman who could have anyone, but she chose me,” Reeve said as he looked deeply into Sutton’s eyes. She forced herself to feel nothing as he held onto her gaze, even though she felt everything for him. Every. Single. Thing. And it was killing her. “So really, when you find someone you’re crazy about, you don’t let her go, right?”
Janelle clasped a hand on her mouth. She looked as if she were about to cry happy tears. “I think I need more wine,” she said. “Would you mind grabbing that fabulous bottle you brought earlier?”
“No problem,” Reeve said and stood up, holding a hand for Sutton.
Once inside the wine closet-slash-cellar, she turned to him. “That was quite a performance.”
Her voice seemed cold. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Absolutely,” she said, as she searched for the bottle. “It was all a lie, wasn’t it?”
“Totally. Because you know what I’d have said if I’d told the truth?” He grabbed her arm, gripping her wrist tightly, and spinning her around so she was facing him, wine bottles on either side of them.
“What? That I made you a deal? That I promised you an audition? That it was all trumped up?”
“No,” he said, anger in his voice. “I would tell that you are hot and cold. That it makes me crazy. That I can’t read you, and I can’t figure you out. That one minute you are all over me and the next you push me away. That I want you so badly, and I love the way you are, but that I find you totally absolutely crazy-making at the same time. And that makes me want to just push you out of my life.”
“So push me out,” she said, challenging him.
“Yeah? That’s what you want?”
“Absolutely,” she said in that crisp, too-controlling voice. “Just push me out. I’ll be on my way, and you’ll be on your way, and it’ll be all fine, as if this week never happened. We’ll both get what we want.”
“Will we?” he asked, moving in closer to her. “Will we get what we want?”
“Yes, of course. And then you can go, like you want to.”
“What if I don’t want to?” he said, sliding another inch near to her. They were so close now, he could almost see the waves of anger radiating from her tense, tight body.
“What do you want then, Reeve? What could you possibly want?”
“What if I want you?”
She closed her eyes briefly, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. He wished he had the secret code to her heart, like he had to her body. “You don’t though,” she said in a resigned voice. “You don’t want me.”
“I do,” he said roughly, gripping her arm. Then he loosened his hold on her, but still held her close. She was shaking the tiniest bit, and he worried that he’d scared her. “Sutton,” he said, lowering his voice. “You make me crazy, and I want you. I totally want you. So much. In every way. Every real way.”
He dropped a hand to her waist, and felt her move her body into his touch.
“You do?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“For real?” she asked, and her voice wavered.
He wanted to hold her and reassure her, so he placed a hand gently on her cheek and looked in her eyes. “Those kisses? They were not fake. I promise. And this? Right now,” he said, stopping to brush his lips against her, so softly, so gently, he heard her gasp. “Not an act, either.”
“Reeve,” she said. “I’m not pretending with you. I’m totally not pretending at all.”
“Neither am I.” He ran his hands along her sides, over the fabric of her dress, feeling the heat from her body. “And this, right now? This is real. When I turn you around, and lift up your dress, and slide into you—that won’t be an act. But I’ll only do it if you say yes to me, Sutton.”
She looked up at him, and she was soft and vulnerable. She was the Sutton who liked books, the Sutton who let herself be saved, the Sutton who wanted to know who Reeve really was. She was the woman he’d loved getting to know better this crazy, topsy-turvy week.
“Right here?”
He nodded.
She swallowed. Breathed out. Nodded. “Yes.”
Then she turned around, placed her hands between two wine bottles, bracing herself against the wooden rack. He hiked her skirt up to her hips and slid a hand between her legs, rewarded with his favorite thing in the world. How ready she was for him. Her panties were damp, and as he touched the cotton panel between her legs, he could feel the wetness all the way through. He reached inside his wallet, took out a condom, opened it and put the wrapper back into his pocket. He unzipped the pants she’d bought for him, lowered his boxer briefs, and rolled on the condom. Like her, he was more than ready. He was aching to be inside her. Deftly, he drew her panties down to her knees, and angled her hips up slightly. She arched back, an invitation. He slid two fingers across her and she breathed out hard at his touch. Her body was trembling—she wanted this so much. She wanted him so much. As he glided his fingers against her, he knew exactly how ready she was for him. God, she needed it, she needed him so badly right now, just as much as he needed her. He stroked her more, grinning as she gasped and leaned her head back. She was so turned on, and her readiness made him even harder.
“I’m pretty sure you’re ready now,” he said.
“I’m so ready.”
He pushed against her wetness, groaning as he began to enter her. She was silky and soft and tight, and soon he filled her up, pausing to savor the absolute f*cking fantastic feeling of being inside her.
“Does this feel good?” he asked in a soft voice.
“It feels incredible, Reeve. I love the way you fill me up.”
He rocked into her. “How much do you love it?”
“I’m so f*cking turned on.”
“More than you have ever been before?” he asked as he slid almost all the way out, making her moan.
“I’ve never wanted anyone this much.”
He stayed like that, teasing her, knowing how risky it was to be playing like this at someone’s house. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care one bit about what they thought.
“Are you sure?” he said, rocking an inch into her, but no more. She shivered, and tried to push back onto him. But he held his hands tight on her hips.
“Yes, god yes.”
“Say please then, Sutton. Say please.”
“Oh god, Reeve. Please f*ck me. I’m dying for you to be inside me again.”
He thrust deep into her, and she said his name in a hot whisper.
“If you beg me, I’ll make you come,” he said.
“I’m begging you then. I’m begging you, Reeve. Please f*ck me here in the wine cellar. I’m begging you to f*ck me until I come.”
“There. That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said, driving into her, feeling her tighten around him. With one hand holding her hip, he moved his other hand around to the front, touching her where she needed it most. She grabbed his wrist instantly, adjusting the rhythm of his hand.
“You like that?”
“Yes,” she said, in a raspy voice.
“Should I stop then?”
“No,” she said, her voice worried. “Please don’t stop.”
“Are you sure?” he teased as he moved in and out of her.
“I’m begging you. I’m begging you not to stop.”
“Just this once then,” he teased, and kept up the motions, rocking into her glorious wetness and touching her, his body pressed against her, feeling as if he were surrounding her, with pleasure, with sensations, with the purity of the absolute and perfect chemistry that existed between the two of them. He loved that she couldn’t control this, that she didn’t want to turn it off, that she couldn’t even grasp a single way to play cool and calm Sutton. She was hot and wild Sutton. She was needy Sutton. She was burning, fiery Sutton whose body cried out for him to bring her to the wildest and fiercest of places—to that far edge of want. With one final thrust, and one slide of his fingers she gasped, shuddered, and came so hard on him that he could literally feel the intensity of her orgasm spread throughout her body, and that was all it took for him to finish off too.