She glanced up at a green sign overhead. “We’ll be in Manhattan in half an hour.”
“You know?” he said, turning to her. “It occurs to me that I have no idea where I’m going.”
“Upper West Side,” she said. “West Seventieth and Central Park West.”
“Tony neighborhood.”
“I like it.” She tucked her phone back in her bag. “Where are you staying?”
“West Seventieth and Central Park West?” he asked, glancing at her with a hopeful expression.
She shook her head. “Not until Neil’s out of the picture.”
His brows furrowed with annoyance. “Are you serious?”
“I am,” she said.
“Then I guess I’ll stay at the Mandarin,” he said, referring to a hotel ten blocks south of her apartment building. He sighed, a slight growl accompanying his release of breath. “But fair warning: we’re fucking hard on Wednesday night, Libitz.”
Her breath hitched. “How hard?”
“So hard, it’ll be morning when we’re done. So hard, you’ll be sore, but I’ll be back between your legs the next night because you’ll want me there. So hard, you’ll swear there was never anyone else before me.”
She whimpered softly, managing to murmur, “And then…?”
“That’s it. That’s the long-term plan,” he said. “You and me. Fucking. Indefinitely.”
And because she couldn’t think straight, let alone come up with a better plan than the one he proposed, she crossed her legs to quell her trembles and didn’t argue.
***
After a stop for gas, some traffic, and a little trouble finding street parking, they finally arrived at Libitz’s apartment around four o’clock, and J.C. insisted on pulling her suitcase and carrying Les Bijoux Jolis inside.
He was frustrated as hell that tonight wouldn’t have a “happy ending,” but in a strange way, he was a little relieved too. If they’d fucked tonight, while she was still technically dating Neil, it would have made her a cheater. And though, to the rest of the world, it might not seem that J.C. had lived his personal life with much of a moral code, its entire commitment-free structure ensured that he’d never be accused of cheating on anyone. He abhorred cheaters. He despised them. So as much as he hated waiting until Wednesday to have her, he was glad that she’d be finished with Neil when they finally slept together. He’d just as soon start their relationship on solid ground.
As that thought passed through his head, he gasped softly, shocked to his core that the words “start their relationship on solid ground” should issue so effortlessly from his brain when they’d never taken root there before.
Libitz turned to look at him after pressing the call button on the elevator.
“You look like my Sherpa,” she said, grinning at him.
He placed the painting on the floor, resting it against his legs. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, baby.”
“Do you have, like, a cache of suggestive lines that you’ve used all your life to seduce hapless women?”
“Hmm. I wonder if being a smartass comes as easy as, say”—he tapped his chin as though in thought—“your pussy under my tongue?” He shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out on Wednesday.”
“You’re pretty full of yourself,” she observed, putting her hands on her hips, which had the awesome side effect of making her little tits stick out.
“Until you’re full of me,” he volleyed back, “I’ll have to pleasure myself.”
“Oh, man.” She chuckled. “I bet you were the guy in college who rated his fucks from one to ten.”
He nodded at her. “And you were the girl who scared the shit out of every guy who secretly wanted to fuck your brains out.”
“Ohhhh,” she said, “is that why they all stopped calling? Out of fear?”
“Anyone who stopped calling was a monumental fucking jackass.” As the elevator arrived, he picked up the painting, grabbed her suitcase handle, and stepped inside after her. “And they were all pussies.”
She pressed the number fifteen, then turned to face him, cocking her head to the side. “So you’re saying you’re not afraid?”
“Oh, I’m terrified, Elsa,” he said, smiling at her. “But not of you.”
“Of what then?”
He’d been leaning against the brass railing at the back of the elevator, but now he stepped forward, closer to her, boxing her into the corner beside the control panel.
“Of wanting something new. Of who I am when I’m with you.”
She reached up and palmed his cheek, “I like who you are when you’re with me.”
“Enough to place a bet on me?”
She nodded. “I’ll be placing that bet on Wednesday night when I tell Neil to take a hike.”
“But I can’t promise you anything,” said Jean-Christian, regretting the words when they left his mouth, even as he recognized their truth. “I wish I could, but I’m in unchartered waters, Elsa.”
“I don’t remember asking for promises.”
“I might let you down.”
“Probably.”
“Or hurt you.”
“Possibly.”