“Go to sleep,” he orders. “I’ll hang up when you’re dreaming.”
“Okay,” I say as he clicks off his lights and the shadows from the TV begin to dance over his profile. He flicks through the channels as I settle in. Not a minute later, his eyes focus back on mine.
“Night, Beauty,” he murmurs.
“Night, Beast,” I jest, keeping my eyes trained on him until they give out.
The next morning, I wake up to see he never hung up and am granted the perfect view of his face from where he sleeps on his side. His long, black lashes rest over his sculpted cheekbones, his crimson lips slightly parted. The rise and fall of his chest is barely perceptible due to his comatose state. Ache intensifying as I rouse, I watch him far past the point of acceptable, but I can’t help myself one bit.
I’m in love with him.
Somewhere Only We Know
Lily Allen
Natalie
2 months later…
“He’s Connecticut-bred, so we come from different planets,” Rosie relays, crossing her long, toned legs in the chair opposite my desk. The reason for her impromptu visit the second I flipped on my office light? To report on Dad’s most recent hire, Jonathan, a financial advice columnist who recently claimed the vacant office next to mine. “I conjured one too many daydreams before my gaydar went off. I confirmed it this morning with a social media search. I had to dip way back into his archives for proof. He’s not closeted but doesn’t advertise his sexual orientation, which is cruelly misleading. Needless to say,” she whines, “I’m going back to California broken-hearted.”
I can’t help my laugh. “Rosie, he’s only worked here for two days.”
“Exactly, my gaydar betrayed me,” she sighs.
“He’s handsome,” I say, catching sight of Rosie’s current crush as he saunters out of Dad’s office, coffee in hand, “but seems pretty aloof,”
“I love aloof. Oh well, plenty of fish, right?” She waves a dismissive hand, her heartbreak lasting as long as it takes her to retrieve a nail file from her tiny Fendi purse. She slowly runs the file along her immaculate manicure while fixing her interrogational stare on me. “In other news. You need to spill on the reason for your current daydreams because, girl, you are glowing.”
Panic sets in as I school my expression and shrug. “I’ve been working out a lot.” Truth.
I now have four abs.
“That smile you’re sporting is not a result of exercise but rather who you’re working out for.”
“Nothing to report,” I lie through my teeth as she narrows her eyes, calling bullshit. “I’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors, catching a lot of rays. It’s been good for me.”
“Sure, it’s the sun that has you floating around this office like you’re living out the best parts of a Jane Austen novel. No,” she dismisses, packing away her file, “there’s a Mr. Darcy hidden somewhere in this, and you know I’ll sniff him out if you don’t come clean. So, out with it. Who is he?”
Her sudden attention on my personal life has my throat closing, but I manage to speak through it in an attempt to thwart her efforts.
“I’m actually relaxing on the weekends now, so yeah, I’m spending a lot of time with the sun.”
Reid and Stella Crowne’s son.
I credit myself for the partial truth while trying to figure out a way to leap off her radar.
“Natalie, line four,” Elena sounds through the intercom interrupting Rosie’s interrogation. It’s all I can do to hide my relief. Rosie stands when I roll my chair closer to the console in a hint for her to make an exit.
“Lunch next week before I fly home?” She asks.
“It’s a date,” I say, with zero intention of keeping it. Feeling the walls closing in—especially as she lingers, suspicious, in my doorway—I give her my attention, finger inching toward the speaker button.
“I’m going to get the truth out of you before I head home,” she warns, giving me a shifty side-eye before sashaying into the pit.
The hold line blinking, I click my mouse to run a spell check on my latest article before pressing speaker. “This is Natalie Hearst.”
“Beauty,” Easton’s sexy, sleep-coated voice fills my office, “you broke my cock.”
Snatching the phone from the cradle, it escapes my grasp before I can get a good grip on it and lands with a thwack on my keyboard. Taking the phone off speaker, I eagerly search the bustling newsroom for anyone within earshot.
“What in the actual fuck, East—” I stop myself in the nick of time and duck behind my monitor. “You’re supposed to call me on my cell phone.” I whisper-yell.
“I tried. You didn’t pick up.”
“That’s because I have a job,” I scold, glancing at the console screen, relieved to see the name and number on the caller ID are blank. “Thank God you’re unlisted.”
“Always unlisted,” he sighs, “but this is an emergency.”
I straighten in my chair and respond in my professional tone. “I’ve heard Eastern medicine can be helpful in that particular area. Maybe you should soak that issue out.” I cup my mouthpiece to continue my quiet rant. “I’m going to kick your ass. I had you on speaker. Thank God I was alone.”
“Sorry,” he says, clearly amused.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you sound really apologetic.”
“Because you’re smiling.”
“How can you tell?” I catch my grin in my monitor’s reflection.
“Because I’ve memorized you, Beauty.”
“Fine,” I sigh in mock irritation as my chest flutters. “So, you called to discuss the state of your—”
“My cock, yes,” he replies, mocking my tone as if discussing the weather.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, you clearly aren’t.”
“Because now you’re smiling,” I click my mouse to make myself look busy while briefly lowering my guard.
“Not denying that,” he rasps out softly, “I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.”
“According to the gossip columnist, who just left my office seconds before your issue announcement, I’m suffering from the same condition.”
“Shit…be careful with her.”
“Well, you aren’t helping with that. She was sniffing me out before you called, and trust me, I’ll be doing everything I can to avoid her. I’m thankful she’s going back to California next week.”
“Sorry,” he whispers sincerely. “It’s just…I’m driving today and wanted to talk to you before we hit the road.”
“I see.”
“And then there’s my issue.”
“Yes, your emergency. Mmm. Any symptoms?”
“It’s like it’s turned on me and doesn’t even wake me up anymore.”
“Do you know when this issue started?”
“It could’ve started when my girlfriend gave me incredible head on a balcony in Lake Tahoe.”
An instant image of me on my knees, mouth wrapped around him as he fisted my hair, fire in his eyes, praise pouring from his lips, has me squeezing my thighs together.
Lake Tahoe cemented our relationship. The second Joel deposited me in the three-story palace Easton rented us for the weekend, I went to work and lit every candle in the place before I waited for him in bed—wearing nothing. The second he breached the door, we didn’t separate until Joel whisked me back to the airport. Though we’ve only managed to steal a handful of days together over the last two months, what we have is rapidly turning into the most intimate and committed relationship I’ve ever been in. My living reality is far better than any Jane Austen scenario I can recall.
“Or maybe it was this past weekend,” he continues, “in that chalet in Idaho.”
“Sounds serious,” I murmur as a vision shutters in of a naked Easton, arms splayed on the sides of the rustic outdoor tub, expression smoldering as I undid my robe, wearing nothing but a smile before stepping in. During both rendezvous we spent our days getting lost in our surroundings and our nights and mornings getting lost in each other.
“If I’m being one hundred,” Easton continues, “my cock really hasn’t been the same since I met her.”
“Hmmm. Sounds like a real pickle.” I glance at my father’s office, seeing him fully occupied, which relaxes my guard a little. “Who did you tell my receptionist you were?”