Tonic (16 page)

I almost jumped when I felt his hands on my hips, but I stood straight and leaned back into him, feeling him hard against me. His lips were at my ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you up so bad, Ms. Belousov.”

My breath caught. “Good,” I whispered back before pulling away. I righted my skirt, panties still in hand, and turned, trying to slow my chugging heart, smiling at him like I knew all his secrets. I stepped into him, stuffing the satin thong into his pocket as I leaned into his ear. “See you tonight, Joel.”

And then I walked out of the office like the lady-boss I was.

By the end of the day, I realized something very important.

Joel’s knowledge that I wasn’t wearing panties made me hotter than the fire of a thousand suns.
 

No lie, by the time the sun went down, I was aching for him. The way he looked at me — like he was actually going to nail me into oblivion — had my thighs tight as rubber bands all day. Watching him work, his hands as they held that tattoo gun, the fluttering of his forearms as he drew and shaded … they all spoke to me of latent power. Even when he walked, he seemed to have his own gravity, catching everyone’s attention like they didn’t have a choice in the matter. He was a force of nature, a force that had sucked me in like a black hole.
 

Somehow I’d let him convince me. Like I could say no to him with his lips so close to mine and his hips pressed against me. I most definitely wouldn’t say no tonight, not after the long tease we’d been playing at all day. No, tonight he could do whatever he wanted to me. I needed him to.

There came a time where he was finished with work and out of excuses to hang around, but he caught my eye as he walked past me for the door and slipped a hand in his pocket, the one where my panties were.
 

I smiled despite the knowledge that I was supposed to be secretive. As wound up as I was, we were all lucky I didn’t bolt after him and take him on the sidewalk. But not long after, I was finished with my work and antsy to get to him. So I followed the crew upstairs and gave them instructions. Laney was gone, as usual — my job was to stay and oversee everything. Hers was to work typical hours and leave me in charge, and every night I was thankful for the office to myself. Particularly that night.
 

I told everyone goodnight and headed down the stairs, pausing in front of his door as I listened and watched for any lingering crew members. When I was sure no one was around, I slipped into his apartment, closing the door softly behind me.

He bolted out of his chair at the kitchen table, and I was disarmed by the raw surprise and uncertainty I found in his face, though it was quickly gone, replaced by smoldering fire. We moved for each other, crashing together in the middle of the room, his lips, my lips, our bodies tangled up as we reveled in the contact we’d been waiting for all day.
 

His hands were at the hem of my skirt, tugging it up and over my hips, and he broke the kiss to bury his face in my neck as he wrapped an arm around my back, slipping his free hand up my thigh and between my ass, his finger grazing the slick line at my core.

My arms wound around his neck, and I stretched up on my tip-toes, willing him to touch me more, touch me deeper, the burning at the tips of his fingers almost unbearable.
 

“Joel,” I begged, my voice rough, my fingers twisted in his hair, clutching him to me.
 

His big hand squeezed, cupping me from behind, the tips of two fingers barely slipping into me, and I whimpered. With a growl, he lifted me up by the ass, and my legs wound around his waist as he spun us around to move us God knew where. I didn’t care. I just needed him inside of me.
 

Now.

I’d said the last word aloud without realizing it, and he rumbled against me as gravity shifted. He laid me on his bed and kissed me so hard, it left my heart aching, my ribs burning. One of his hands disappeared, and I heard the clinking of his belt, the sound of his zipper, and I briefly had the irrational, frantic thought that I didn’t have patience for a condom — I was on birth control, which almost seemed like enough in the moment. But he disappeared, and I cracked my eyelids to find him rummaging in his nightstand, then the rip of the foil packet, the sound of the rubber unrolling, which got my lids open completely. I wanted to watch him, wanted to see him touch himself, but he was already descending on me, his hand on the base of his cock, and in a breath, before I even realized what he was doing, he filled me completely, to the hilt.
 

I struggled for a breath, my back arched as he pulled out and slammed into me. He was everywhere, kissing me, touching me, in me, around me, moving so hard, so fast that I couldn’t hold on. My body pulsed, his name on my lips as he flexed his hips, hitting the end of me with a moan, and my heart stopped as I came, gripping him with all of me, pulling him deeper with every heartbeat.

He came right behind me, throbbing and hot, grunting in a way that hit me deep in my stomach as he pumped his hips.

We were both panting as he collapsed on top of me, and I wound my arms around his neck and cupped the back of his head, my fingers in his silky hair, his breath against my skin hot and huffing. I could feel his heart hammering through his shirt, through my shirt, through my ribs and into my own, which matched his pace, beat for beat.
 

“Mmm,” he hummed and kissed my collarbone.
 

“Mmm,” I echoed and shifted my fingers in his hair.
 

“I told you you’d thank me later.”

I chuckled. “I didn’t thank you.”
 

I could feel him smiling against my skin. “Yeah, you did.” He rolled over, pulling me with him by way of a strong hand on my hip. “Come on. You hungry?”

I found myself frowning. Okay, maybe I was pouting a little. “Wait, was that it?”

He laughed at that, the flash of his white teeth and boom of the sound making me smile, despite my disappointment. When he’d finished, he popped me on the bare ass, and I yelped.
 

“Princess, that was just the warm up.”

Joel

I climbed off the bed, the smile on my face threatening permanence as I kicked off my boots and dropped my pants, then pulled off my shirt. I glanced over my shoulder and caught her looking, watching me with admiration, her eyes scanning my body, and I winked before walking out of that room stark naked and a few inches taller than usual. The lights in the bathroom were off, and I left them that way, cleaning up quickly and anxious to get back to her. As if I would go back to my room and she’d already be gone.
 

But she was there, her silk shirt untucked and skirt back in place, sadly. Her heels stood next to the bed, and I realized she’d re-twisted her bun, setting herself to rights.
 

Too bad I wasn’t going to leave it twisted for long. No, I wanted it down, brushing her shoulders, fanned out around her. Free.
 

Her cheeks flushed, and she smiled knowingly — I hadn’t realized I’d paused in the doorway as I looked her over. So I snapped into action, moving for my dresser.
 

“I’m glad you decided to come over,” I said as I rummaged through my drawer for a pair of jersey pants.
 

“Me too,” she answered, though she didn’t offer anything else.
 

I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as I tugged on my pants, but I was too afraid to ask. So I turned to her and smiled, reaching for her hand.
 

“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

She smiled and slipped her soft, long fingers into my hand. “You cook?” she asked as she stood.

“I wouldn’t call eggs ‘cooking.’”

She laughed and followed me into the kitchen, her hand still in mine until she sat at the kitchen table, crossing her long legs underneath. I moved around the kitchen, gathering supplies and utensils. I’d never been comfortable with silence — I was much more at home talking, telling stories or jokes — but there I was, with the girl to end all girls, and I had nothing to say. The silence was deafening, and I scrambled, deciding to hit the classics.
 

“So, I’ve been wondering, have you ever lived in Russia? Like, are you
from
there?” I already felt a little better, and cracked an egg on the side of the pan, satisfied with the sound it made.

“No, my parents are.”

I nodded and cracked another egg. “How long have they lived here?”

“Since ’89. They settled in Brighton Beach.” She let out a sigh when I didn’t ask another question, continuing on. “They were … extracted by my uncle, who’s been here since the 70s. They couldn’t get out on their own. The whole
Russian Jew
thing.”

I frowned as I popped some bread into the toaster. “I’m not overly familiar with Russia’s history.”

She chuckled. “It’s okay. Russian Jews have been the most persecuted group of people in just about all of history. It was hundreds of years in the making, the Russian government moving toward communism, uniformity, including religion. During World War II, millions fled into Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and some to America. My parents were small children during the war, and their families were friends, leaving Russia in a group. My grandparents were freedom fighters in Hungary during the revolution in the 50s. They eventually ended up in Israel, but went back to Russia to try to help my aunt. Their papers were confiscated.”

I listened soberly, trying to imagine a life of running, of persecution. I couldn’t grasp it. “That’s incredible.”

“It is. We’re survivors.”

“I’ll say.”

“So when they were stuck in Russia, Papa called my uncle in America, Roxy’s dad. He has connections and was able to get them all out, set them up in Brooklyn, help them buy a house and start their business.”

“What do they do?” I stirred the eggs, fascinated.

“They run a dry cleaning shop. I’m actually trying to get them to retire — they’re not young. They didn’t think they could have kids — they were both forty-six, and it had never happened before. But just after they moved here, whamo. Guess it just took them not being afraid for their lives for it to happen.” She chuckled softly, and I glanced back at her. Her chin was propped on the heel of her hand, fingers on her cheek. She looked young, soft and innocent, the chill gone, melted. For the moment, at least.
 

“Anyway,” she continued, “I’ve got this massive box of paper ledgers to go through in an attempt to figure out how much the business is worth so they can sell it and hopefully use the money to invest and retire. They’ve earned it, as hard as they’ve worked, as much as they’ve been through. Papa would work until his last breath without thinking twice about it, but I want more for him. For both of them. So, I’ve just got to puzzle through these ledgers, but I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I can help,” I said as I plated the eggs and grabbed the toast. “I’ve been running the shop for almost twenty years, and I started back before we had QuickBooks. Ledgers and paper receipts used to be the only way.” I set her plate in front of her and sat down across from her with mine.

“I couldn’t bother you with that, Joel. You’re so busy with the show.”

I shrugged and picked up my toast. “So are you. We can work on it together.” I took a bite.

She laughed, the flush in her cheeks back, turning her eyes an electric shade of blue in comparison. “I’m not sure how much work we’ll get done.”

I smirked. “We’ll set a timer. One hour of work for an hour of play.”

“At that rate, it’ll take us a year to get through the paperwork.”

“But just think of all that playing. I’m just saying, pretty sure it’d be worth it.”

She laughed again, shaking her head as she picked up her toast and took a bite. Somehow, she made it look elegant, delicate, even with the harsh crunch of the bread between her teeth.

“Seriously, Annika. Let me help you.”

She set the bread down as she chewed, rolling the crumbs between her fingers, and they fell like snowflakes on her plate. “You’d really do that?” she asked once she’d swallowed.

“Of course. It would take me a fraction of the time it would take you. I bought a business — I know how this works and what an inspector and loan officer will be looking for. I’d be happy to pass some of that knowledge on. Plus, it’s not like I don’t have otherwise selfish intentions.”

One brow rose. “Oh?”

“Play time. Remember?”

More laughing. The sound was maybe one of my favorite sounds in the world, just as light and free as I hoped it would be. She was a woman with two sides, behind a wall of determination. I’d just had to scale the wall to see it, and what I found was the valley of the promised land, green and lush and full of sunshine.

“So, when do you want to start?” She slipped her fork into her mouth, and I watched her lips as she pulled the fork out clean.
 

“You say when. I’m around.”

“Tomorrow, then. It’ll give me a good excuse to come over without having to sneak, too.”

Worry niggled the back of my mind, knowing she was putting herself at risk. “What happens if someone finds out?”

She shrugged and took another bite, buying time to respond. “Technically, nothing. Laney suspects something, and it’s not forbidden, as long as I do my job.”

“Which means potentially manipulating me.”

She nodded. “It’s why she didn’t tell me about Hal. She didn’t think I’d pull the trigger on bringing him in.”

The memory burned in my chest. “Would you have?”

She didn’t answer right away, but looked me in the eyes. “I don’t know for sure. But I think I would have come up with an excuse to postpone it.”

The thought gave me comfort. “I guess I should have known he’d be used as a match to strike. But please, tell me you’re not dragging Liz into this.”

Her face was still open, honest. “I have no plans to.”

I drew a breath and let it out slow.
 

“Tell me about her.”