Dirty Little Lies (12 page)

“What happened?” Tia demands
when she opens the door. Her voice is loud and unapologetic and her roommate
calls out asking what’s wrong.

“Nothing, go back to bed,” she yells back.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “It’s too late, I should bother
you.”

I feel terrible as Tia yawns, already in her pajamas. It’s
just that her address was the first to come out of my mouth when the taxi
driver asked,
where to?

“Come.” She pulls me inside and we grab a seat at the
breakfast bar. “Tell me what happened.”

I have a seat and take a gulp of the beer she opened and I
start at the beginning.

I come clean about the kink and my sex problems with Max.
And my newly found addiction to Gabe, his marriage, the initiation, Venus, and
the entire fucked-up situation.

She is riveted, not saying a word—a first for Tia.

“Holy shit,” she whispers when I finish.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, you stay here until you figure it out. I’m not
taking no for an answer this time. Who knows what you might get yourself into
next? Damn girl, I had no idea. You make me look like an old woman.”

“But I have to get my stuff from the hotel, and Free. Oh
shit. I can’t leave him by himself. I have to get there. I just don’t want to
face Gabe.”

“Don’t worry.” She stands and wraps a coat over her pjs. “I’ll
come with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now put your shoes on and let’s go get your bird.”

We find a spot on the street with easy access in and out, I
didn’t want to take any more chances getting stuck in the parking lot. Rushing
inside, I keep my head down. So far so good.  But as we round the corner to the
elevator, I suddenly feel him.

“Stevie,” Gabe rushes toward me. “Thank God. I was so
worried.”

I don’t look up at him because I need to stay strong for
this.

Thankfully, Tia, my savior, handles it for me instead.

“Hey, back off,” she says. “We’re just here to pick up her
things.”

“Just let me have a word,” Gabe is polite, but
authoritative. That will not go over with Tia.

“I don’t think so, perv. Stevie’s told me all about you and
frankly, I wouldn’t trust you to be alone with Free. So keep you kinky hands
off and just go on your way.”

I glance up and can see the hurt in Gabe’s eyes, like I
just betrayed him in the worst possible way.

“Stevie, please,” he begs.

“She means it, Gabe.” I look up at him now and he looks
even more hurt than he did at The Club—if that’s even possible. The nerve. “She
will make a scene, so it’s best to just leave us alone.”

The elevator rings and when we rush inside, he doesn’t join
us. I can’t believe the regret I feel at that. Like I want him to keep running
after  me—fighting for me. Tia doesn’t say a word as go up to my floor. And
when we make our way into the hotel room, she gets to work packing my things.
Meanwhile, I sink down on the carpet and let the tears fall.

***

“Here, sweetie,” Tia hands me an extra pair of pajama
pants.

I go into the bathroom to change and wash my face, hardly
recognizing the person I see in the mirror. I’m red and blotchy from crying all
night. It’s three a.m. now, so I have bags under my eyes to add to the mess
that is my face.

When I come out to the living room, Tia’s set up an air
mattress for the both of us. She’s arranging a pile of blankets and pillows. I
hate putting her out this way.

“It’ll be just like a slumber party.” She winks. “Do you
want some tea before bed?”

“No, thanks. I think I just need some sleep.”

“Yeah, I think so. Come on in.” She pats our make-shift
bed.

I climb in and shut my eyes, but soon I’m tossing and
turning. Something is bothering me—even more than my love life. Hell, I’m just
going to ask her.

“Tia?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you really mean all that stuff you said to Gabe?” I
ask. “Do you really think he’s a perv?”

She giggles. “No, of course not.”

“Well, why did you say that then? It was pretty
convincing.”

“I know,” she boasts. “Did you see his face?”

“It was sad.”

“Not as sad as watching my best friend’s heart shatter.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” I probe.

“I hate what he did to your heart, honey. Not what he did
to your body. Anything you’re cool with, I’m cool with too. It’s not my job to
judge you and honestly, it sounds like you had a pretty amazing few weeks. I’m
jealous.”

“Well that’s a first.” I laugh. Ms. Sexy, Sexy jealous of
little ol’ me.

“What are you going to do, hon? Or should I be asking
who
are you going to do?”

I can feel her body shake, clearly laughing at her own
joke. She’s right, it is just like our old slumber parties.

“I wish I knew.” I tell her. “I really do.”

***

The next day at work is hell.

I’m exhausted and sad and drained … and I can’t even
believe I’m saying this, but I’m horny as all get out. I’ve grown accustomed to
my new favorite stress reliever and not having that, on top of everything, has
me ornery as fuck. 

It doesn’t help when Gabe continues to call and text. Each
time he does, his sexy-ass avatar comes up—the photo I took of him the morning
after we made love the first time. His hair dark and disheveled against the
white sheets. His lips full and slightly opened, just waiting to be plundered.

Gah!

I throw myself back into work. I’m more thankful than ever
for the fitness account. I’m busy and, despite everything going on, I love the
work.

 A few hours later Max calls to tell me my mom wants us
over for dinner this weekend. I hear his sweet message on voicemail.
The
fact that she still thinks we’re together gives me hope, Stevie. I want you to
know I’m here. Waiting for you.

            I’ve talked to Mom
since everything went down with Max. In fact, I called her the night he left,
just because I needed to hear her voice. But I couldn’t bear to listen to her
criticism, so I never told her that we broke up.  And then I called to tell her
about the Forever Fit account. She put my dad on the phone too, and together
they listened as I told them how I won the business. You’ve never seen people
so proud of their kid.

It felt really good. And I want to continue riding that
wave for a while. I bet if I asked him, Max would come with me. I know he
would, no questions asked.

What the hell? I make the call.

I walk into my apartment to
Free flying in the living room—pausing every few seconds to perch and utter his
new favorite sentence, “Going out with Gorgeous Gabe. Going out with Gorgeous
Gabe.”

Max comes out from kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. He
raises an eyebrow to Free’s declaration, before looking at me.

Shit.

“Sorry about that,” I say to Max.

“It’s okay, babe.” He laughs. “I deserve it. Maybe once I
make it up to you, we can reprogram the bird.”

“Deal.” I smile.

I’ve been home for three days now. Max came to dinner at my
parents and the next thing I know, we’re talking about getting back together.
We’re taking it slow though. I still think the whole club idea was sketchy on
his part. I understand what he was trying to do, and I think I can forgive him
for it. Eventually. But in the meantime, Max has been sleeping on the couch. He
tells me he wants to earn back my trust and his place in my bed. And that’s
fine with me, because I’ve needed the time alone. I’m just not sure how long I
can keep him at bay.

“I thought we’d have dinner out tonight,” Max says. “Does
that work for you?”

“Sure,” I tell him, more concerned about what comes
after
dinner.

I slip into a sundress and let my hair fall out of my work
bun. Max looks at me appraisingly.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“Not so bad yourself,” I reply, taking in his linen shirt
and worn jeans.

We walk to one of our favorite Italian restaurants in the
neighborhood. There’s a light breeze now that the sun has dropped a little. Max
holds my hand, and it’s nice, comforting. His confidence has definitely
improved, and it’s a joy to see. There’s nothing sexier than a man comfortable
in his own skin.

Max gazes down at me as his thumb slides across my
knuckles. My stomach tickles just a bit. Not the rapid fluttering like I felt
with Gabe, but maybe a butterfly or two.

Inside the restaurant, the windows are open, inviting the
breeze to flow inside. The candles flicker and it makes the scene even more
romantic. Sadly, it reminds me of Gabe.

I have a penchant for all things Italian,
his
gritty voice rings in my ear.

Max orders a bottle of Chianti and olives once we’re
seated, and I’m thankful for the tiny buzz the wine provides. Who would’ve
thought I could be so unnerved having dinner with my boyfriend?

We feast on caprese salad, gnocchi, pasta Bolognese and
almost a loaf of bread between the two of us. When the cappuccino and cannoli
arrive, I feel like I’m going to burst. Max scoots his chair beside mine and
feeds me the dessert. He’s so sweet and loving—and damn he’s working his ass
off to please me.

Still, I worry it may be too late.

I know he wants to come into our bed tonight, but my hands
grow damp and I get all jittery at the thought. What if, after all of this
shit, it still doesn’t work and I can’t get off? Do I then just send my libido
packing with a handshake and a smile?

What’s worse? If it does work, do I count myself lucky and
forget about Gabe and my orgasmic adventure? I’m not sure I can. Or that I want
to.

Max wraps me under his arm on our walk home. I count the
steps as we walk, keeping my mind busy so I don’t overthink the situation. When
we get up to our place, he pours two glasses of wine and turns on
Sinatra—keeping with the Italian theme. He’s organized like that. Then, setting
the glasses on the table, he pulls me in for a dance.

The last time I did this, I was in Gabe’s arms—the dirty
dancing episode at The Club, and the most sensual night of my existence. Gah, I
need to get that image out of my head pronto.

Although … it could be good fodder to get me ready for
whatever Max has in mind for this evening.

No, I need to stop this right now. 

Max’s hands start to explore, and I start to panic.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Honestly, this behavior is ridiculous, considering what I
was ready to do with a complete stranger not even a week ago. I dig deep and
relax into Max’s hold, focusing on Sinatra singing about why the lady is a
tramp. Then when Max cups my ass—and my nerves return with a vengeance—an
amazing thing happens.

Free sounds the alarm.

Seriously. He releases a loud, piercing scream. It sounds
just like a fire truck cruising by.

“What the hell?” Max says, releasing my ass to get to
Free’s cage. He knocks over one of the wine glasses and stubs his toe in
pursuit.

“Free, stop it!” Max yells.

But Free continues his alarm impression with no signs of
stopping. I grab a towel to soak up the wine and Max tries to calm him, letting
him out of the cage. It’s no use. He seems even more wound up with free reign
of the place.

Max is on the verge of losing his temper, and that’s when
the neighbors start knocking on our door. It’s mayhem. Max doles out apologies
and ensures we’ll get our pesky bird under control.

I, conversely, give Free a fist bump. He got me out of one
sticky mess—such a good boy.

The next morning, I decide to
go straight to Forever Fit headquarters. I want to be there early, before the
rest of our team. I’m the lead, and I want that established with my co-workers
from the get-go.

I walk into the sleek building to the elevator, catching a
glimpse of myself in the reflection. For once, I don’t cringe. Despite my
limited romping with Max, I’ve been happily keeping my sexy on simmer. Gone are
my period panties and bandeau bras that I wore for comfort. Now, I’m all about
La Perla, Agent Provocateur, and Fox and Rose. And I have the three-figure bank
account left over to prove it. Let’s just say my bump in pay couldn’t have come
at a better time. Turns out, sexy is expensive.

Is it wrong I want to
feel
sexy, but not
act
on it?

For the outer packaging of my gorgeous undergarments, I’ve
upped my game as well. Looking in the mirror, I smooth my jersey dress and
admire the black leather trim—an ensemble that covers enough of my lady bits to
be professional, while still skimming my curves enough to fetch a few second
looks from the gentle—and not so gentle—men on the Chicago streets. With my
patent-leather pumps, I feel extra girly.

I am ready.

Once inside the elevator, I check the emails on my phone.
Suddenly, a large hand crashes between the doors at the last possible second.
As the doors re-open, I can see the hand is attached to a toned olive-skinned
arm—which happens to be attached to one of the finest specimens I’ve ever laid
eyes on.

Gabe Shannon.

“Stevie,” he says in the raspy voice of his.

“Gabe,” I squeak, completely thrown by his presence. “What
are you doing here?” 

“Going to a meeting, actually,” he says with a hint of a
smirk, completely unfazed by this chance meeting. “You?”

Maybe he’s stalking me.

“Same,” I say, trying to ignore the way my body is lighting
up around him.

Gabe nods before quickly reaching over to stop the
elevator.

Uh-oh.

He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back, now
pressed up against the steel wall.

“Can we talk about what happened, Stevie?” He reaches out
to touch my arm. “You haven’t answered my calls or texts. And the way we left
everything at The Club was just …”

“Fucked up?” I finish for him.

“Yes, it was,” Gabe agrees, his lips tighten into a
straight line.

“If I knew Max was your ex, I never would’ve brought you to
The Club. Maybe I shouldn’t have anyway, but the way you lit up that first time
… I don’t know, I just thought I was doing the right thing for you. Isn’t that
how you felt? Didn’t you think it was right?”

“I don’t know, Gabe. It’s still so confusing, and I’m not
sure it matters anymore.”

“What do you mean?” He looks hurt. “Of course it matters. I
need to know if you still have feelings for me. We need to talk about this,
Stevie.”

“No,” I tell him, eyes pleading. “Please don’t get me
worked up; I can’t do this right now. This meeting is important.”

“Yes, the fitness account, right? I know how hard you
worked for it. How’s it going? Is everyone treating you okay?”

His concern is so genuine. It feels like old times—if a
week ago can be considered old times. I almost feel the way I did back in the
hotel, when we’d talk over room service. I blush at the memory.

“It’s good,” I tell him.

“Just good?”

“Great,” I amend.

“I’m happy for you, Stevie,” Gabe says, and I believe him.
“And everything else? Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” I nod.

“Well, you look fantastic.” He smiles. “But you seem a
little sad.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Gabe swallows and I quiver. He takes another step forward
and it feels like all the air was just sucked out of the space. His face is
pained as he tucks a loose lock of hair behind my ear. My body is ready to
combust with his touch. I look up into his eyes and they are warm,
inviting—luring me in. Gabe tips his forehead down to mine, and I exhale,
finally able to breathe again. He’s like coming home. Safe and sweet. Until my
body blazes, wanting more of his touch, his hands, his mouth …

Our lips hover over the other’s, neither one of us wanting
to make the first move. His warm breath tickles my lips, and I immediately
remember what his breath feels like on the other parts of my body.

I’ve missed this. Craved it. Yes, Max is hot as hell now,
but I guess there are some things that can’t be taught. Some moves that can’t
be learned. Or some bodies that are just made to be together.

Trouble is, we each have another waiting for us at home.
This isn’t fair to them. And really, how long can Gabe and I sustain this heat?
It will eventually burn out and then what will we have? After all, it’s Max who
knows I like to eat dinner early; and I need a glass of wine after talking to
my parents; and Sundays make me melancholy. He’s the one I can count on. It’s
true Gabe knows my body so intimately, it scares the bejesus out of me.  But
Max knows my mind. I have to stop acting like a kid and let go of the fantasy.

 “I still want you, Stevie,” Gabe interrupts the arguments
in my head. “Like I’ve never wanted anything.”

Then, in a bold move, he drags his mouth across my bottom
lip before pulling it inside. My hands fist in his hair once we make contact.
Instinct takes over as I fall into him, savoring each swipe of his tongue and
graze of his fingertips. Gabe groans, deep and rough, pushing me into the wall.
Any doubt of his feelings or attraction completely dissipates when his erection
strains against my belly. I welcome the contact and push right back, molding my
body to his.  

“Can we start over?” he asks, nipping my earlobe.

I roll his words around my head, trying to make sense of
them in the pheromone-filled space.
Yes, we can start over,
I silently
answer his question as I inch myself up his body—aching to feel the pressure of
his thick cock between my legs.

 Slowly, my brain kicks in.

Could we?

Should we?

Then, I think of our baggage—the people who love us. Max.
Gabe’s wife.

No, no we can’t.

“I’ve got Max at home,” I say, struggling out of his hold
and pushing the elevator’s start button.

Gabe’s arms fall to his sides. “You went back to him.”

“Yes, I did.”

He lets out a loud breath of air.

“Yes,” I tell him, really irritated now. “And you have your
wife.”

“Yeah, about that—” Gabe starts, but is interrupted as the
door opens to a young woman laughing with two men.

“Good Morning, Mr. Shannon,” she says, not concealing her
laughter. “We’re grabbing coffee downstairs, do you want something?”

“Ugh,” he says as we both step out on the same floor.
Quickly, he shakes off our elevator moment. I wish I could do the same.  

“What about that damn smoothie machine you had me put in
the break room … and the Keurig?” Gabe asks the woman.

“We’re into dark roast now with real cream.” She frowns.
“There was just a new study released on the benefits of regular old coffee and
cream and the boost to metabolism.”

“Great.” He rolls his eyes and the entire group laughs.
It’s obvious how much these people like him.

It all comes together. The missing CEO, his various
enterprises, the way I got the account. Mr. Shannon—aka CEO Shannon.

“Let me guess,” I say after the group leaves in the
elevator. “Mr. Shannon, CEO of Forever Fit?”

“Guilty.” He extends his hand, but I don’t take it.

“So you’re the reason why I won the account?” I ask, unable
to meet his eyes. I should’ve known. I’m not sure I can take any more of these
new developments. I can hear Dad’s voice in my head,
if it looks like a duck
and quacks like a duck …

Let’s face it, Gabe has a shady lifestyle and can’t be
trusted. I guess all of this is the price you pay to play his games. 

“No.” He’s adamant as he meets my eyes. “And don’t even
think it, Stevie. I didn’t even realize you were going after the account at
first. I really was busy handling another project. When I did find out, I
completely left the decision up to my team. I knew you wouldn’t have it any
other way. Plus, you told me you were low man on the totem pole with the design
firm. How was I to know you’d single-handedly win the account?”

I drop my head and try to melt into the floor. No amount of
fancy panties can make me feel confident after this bit of news.

“How do you expect me to work for you after everything that’s
happened? Now knowing any of this?” I ask.

“You’re not working
for
me. You’re working
with
my
team. I will rarely be around. I just wanted to be here as you presented the
final designs. And also to see you, Stevie. I meant what I said when we first
met. Even after the whole
adventure
business, I would still like to be
your friend.”

“That didn’t feel
friendly
in there.” I tip my head
to the elevator. 

“I’m sorry. I miss you and I’ll take whatever I can get.”

I miss you, too,
I say
in my head because Gabe’s assistant greets him at the door and he’s shuffled
off into an office before I can respond.