I don’t want to be Kelsey’s friend or a decent lover, and I don’t care if she’s good for my image—although how could she not be? I want to be her boyfriend and the one who ravishes her body at night. Hell, any time of the day, to be honest. I love the idea of lying next to her in bed and just being there while she reads. I want to sit next to her on the couch and watch her red pen make annotations that make zero sense to me. When I look around my house, I imagine her here. She’s on the couch, in the office working on a manuscript, lounging by the pool or setting up candles near the Jacuzzi tub. Her clothes are in my closet and her scent lingers in every room of my house.
But how do I tell her this after knowing her for days? The last thing I want to do is come off as someone who is looking for a rebound relationship because that’s what it looks like to me. Until I saw her with Myles, I never believed in true love. Still not sure I do, but there’s something between us and I want to explore it all.
I luck out and find parking along the curb. While Kelsey’s neighborhood isn’t great—not that much is in downtown these days—I’m confident in knowing no one will steal Rizzo. At least, if they try, it’ll be a hard task. Rizzo is a chatty Cathy, thanks to some third-party apps, and if you touch her, she’ll scream and call the police. It’s a glorious thing, having a smart AI system.
When I get to Kelsey’s building, her doorman acknowledges me. “Here to see Ms. Sloane?”
How awkward would it be if I wasn’t?
“I am. I don’t think I introduced myself before—Alex Moore.”
“Yes, Mr. Moore. I’m a fan. I’m Barrett.”
“Thank you, Barrett,” I say as we shake hands. “I have a question. Ms. Sloane is new to town, and I’m concerned about security here.” I look around and then back at him. Barrett nods. “How secure is the building? She gave me a code the last time I was here. Is it the same code for everyone?”
“The new owners of the building installed a state-of-the-art security system in each tenant’s apartment. The code is autogenerated for each person.”
“Good to know. I hated thinking everyone who entered could go everywhere.”
“No, sir. They cannot.”
“Thank you, Barrett. Have a good rest of your day.”
“You too, Mr. Moore.”
It’s a huge relief knowing Kelsey is safe and makes me feel better knowing not every Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes in has an access code. Inside, I dial her number and wait for her to pick up.
“Hello,” she says in a sweet, honey-toned voice. Sweet Jesus, one simple word from her and my knees knock together. I close my eyes and tell myself to get my shit together before I ask her to speak dirty to me over the phone. I’m definitely saving that moment for when I’m on an east coast road trip and pining away for her in my hotel room.
“H-hey, Kels.” My voice breaks leaving me choice but to clear my throat. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Hi, Alex. The code is,” she pauses and then rattles off the same four-digit number as before. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
“Yeah, you will.” I’m not even sorry those words came out of my mouth. I desperately want to see her. Hell, I want to do a lot more but we’re not there.
Yet.
It takes longer than a minute for the elevator to reach me, and then another two or more minutes for me to get to Kelsey’s floor. In the grand scheme of things, she probably knew it would take me this long.
When I’m within a few feet of her door, it swings open and she’s there, in jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that says, “Save the whales, trees, and the Oxford comma.” I haven’t a clue what an Oxford comma is, but I’m willing to find out.
Kelsey tilts her head toward the door. “Are you going to come in or—”
Her sweet voice brings me back to the here and now. I step in, cutting her sentence off. Kelsey shuts the door and before she can move past me, I reach for her. I’ve wanted to kiss her again ever since our dinner the other night. Tasting her mouth has been at the top of my to-do list.
My hand circles her waist, and I pull her to me. She emits a small gasp of surprise but her smile beams as our fingers intertwine. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day,” I tell her as I inch closer to her mouth.
“Me, too.”
Kelsey closes the small gap between us. Her lips whisper against mine, teasing me. Or am I teasing her? My lips part lightly until the feel of her tongue presses against them. I open my mouth and welcome her in, letting go of her hand so I can cup her cheek, while my other hand pulls her closer.
We move together, in sync from the start. There’s nothing awkward or unfamiliar about kissing her. This feels natural and perfect. Kelsey feels like home.
She moans and the semi I’m sporting rises to attention. I step back slightly, putting a little breathing room between us. She notices and pulls away. “I don’t want to stop kissing you.” The words tumble from my lips through jagged breaths.
“But you moved.” The tone in her voice is sad and questioning.
I step back, clear my throat, and then look down at my joggers. I was a fool to wear them, but they’re comfortable and unless it’s important, I’m not dressing up. Not that coming to Kelsey’s isn’t important.
“Oh,” she says quietly and then says the two lettered word a little more profoundly.
“Uh, yeah. Like I said, I really wanted to kiss you.”
“If it helps, I feel the same,” she says confidently. “I thought about you after you left my office. You were the only thing on my mind this afternoon.”
“That’s a relief,” I say with a smile. The temptation to kiss her again is there, but I hold back. Hopping into bed with her seems like both the dumbest and smartest idea, and that confuses me. I don’t want to rush anything, but damn it if I don’t want to bury myself inside of her too. I’m on a teeter totter and I can’t figure out if I want to be suspended up high or sitting on the ground. Something tells me being middle of the ground isn’t going to suffice when it comes to Kelsey.
“Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Kelsey leads me down the hall. The first stop is the bathroom. It’s small and decorated in navy blue, with a tub/shower combo, and I find the space oddly intimate. She shows me her living room again. The couch looks inviting and between it, the books, and her TV, I can see myself sitting there with her in my arms. Easily how I imagined us earlier.
Next is her galley kitchen. It’s perfect for her, crowded for the two of us. She has a small balcony, enough to stand and enjoy a cup of coffee or look out, and a table for two in her dining area.
“This is where I do most of my work when I’m home,” she says. She’s certainly not the only one to eat dinner in front of the TV. “It’s either here or on the couch, although sometimes I get lost in a good story if I’m sitting there and forget to edit.”
“Understandable.”
“Well, that’s it,” she says with a shrug and puts her hands in her pockets.
“Do you sleep on the couch?”
She shakes her head slowly and lets out a long, “No.”
“Then show me your room.”