Professor Hot Suit
Based on the opening music, this might be a mistake.
Me
Opening music?
I look around my empty apartment and type another response.
Me
Wait, are you watching Marley and Me too?
Professor Hot Suit
Why else would I ask you to start it at 8 pm? I had to finish up a meeting. Can you hit pause and answer the door real quick?
Sure enough, a knock sounds, and I set my laptop on the floor in front of my armchair, heading to the front door. The familiar scent of buttered popcorn causes my mouth to water as soon as I open it and check the empty hallway.
He didn’t.
He did.
Of course, he did.
Picking up the large buttery carton, I pop a kernel into my mouth while heading back inside. Once I’m in my seat again, I tuck my feet under my bum and text Henry.
Me
Nice touch, Boss.
Professor Hot Suit
Glad I can be of service. Ready to push play again?
Me
Yup.
I push play on my laptop a second later. We continue exchanging text messages during the movie. Some are funny. Some are more depressing. But they’re all genuine. All thoughtful. And by the time the end credits roll, another message pops up. This time it’s a photograph of a dozen wadded-up tissues scattered along white sheets. He must’ve been watching the movie in his hotel room.
Professor Hot Suit
I was right. This was a terrible idea.
I laugh between my blubbering and send him a picture of my own pile of wadded-up tissues scattered on the hardwood floor.
Me
Ya think?
Professor Hot Suit
I’m sorry. Seriously. I had no idea what I was getting us into. There was a cute photo of a dog on the cover, and I thought it would be a good distraction.
Me
You’re forgiven. And honestly, it kind of felt good to cry.
Professor Hot Suit
It feels good to feel sometimes, doesn’t it?
Me
Maybe. When do you come home?
Professor Hot Suit
Tomorrow.
Me
Oh.
Professor Hot Suit
Can I see you when I get home?
I chew on my thumbnail, indecision tearing me in two, but I force myself to respond.
Me
Okay.
Professor Hot Suit
Look at that. You agreed to something without me pulling your teeth.
Me
Don’t rub my nose in it, or I might change my mind.
Professor Hot Suit
I wouldn’t dream of it. Goodnight, Mia.
Me
Goodnight, Henry.
35
MIA
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant as Henry’s weight pushes me into the mattress, and his body connects with mine. It’s been six days since I’ve felt him inside me. Six. Days. I had no idea how much I’d missed it. The feel of Henry. But after I received a text from him an hour ago informing me he was home and asking if I wanted to come up to his place, I practically ran to the elevator. As soon as the doors slid open and he came into view, I jumped onto his toned body, and he carried me into his bedroom, ripping at my clothes like a starving man.
Now, here I am, my clothes tossed around his otherwise spotless room and my muscles sore from being bent in a dozen different positions. But I love it. The rush. The chemistry. The smells and sounds and familiar ache. There’s a strong possibility I won’t be able to walk afterward, but I’m here for it. Raking my fingers against his back, I wrap my arms around him as we race toward our orgasms.
Well, technically, it’s my third, but who’s counting?
Within seconds, warmth spreads from my core and out to my limbs, leaving me nothing but a limp noodle as we both come. When he finishes, his muscles give out, and he collapses onto me, catching his breath and practically smothering me under his weight.
With a laugh, I tickle his back for another second. He climbs off me and stares at the ceiling.
“Fuck,” he grunts.
I grin. “Yeah.”
“You hungry?”
Shifting onto my side, I prop my head on my hand and take in his sexy profile. I like him like this. Right after sex, without a lick of clothing to hide his body. It’s when I’m gifted with a glimpse of the real Henry. The one locked away during business deals. The one hidden from media and news articles. The one few people ever meet. When his guard is down and the stresses from running an empire are set aside, even if it’s only for a few minutes.
I’ve missed him.
The thought scares me, but I’m too satiated to care. To get up and walk out of his apartment now that he’s home again. Now that he’s here.
“Mia?” he prods, turning his head and holding my gaze.
I bite my bottom lip, stopping myself from nodding as I ask, “Does food constitute a date?”
“Everyone has to eat, Mia. Even friends.” He smirks. “The question is, are you hungry?”
My stomach grumbles, giving me away. “I could eat.”
“Good.” He shifts back on top of me and kisses the tip of my nose. “What sounds good?”
“Hmm…how ‘bout pizza?”
His mouth quirks. “I haven’t had pizza in a long time.”
“Why not?”
He shrugs but climbs off me again, his feet landing on the wood floor. He strides across the room and disposes of the condom in the trash.
“Do you have a thing about pizza too?” I ask.
“A thing?” he questions, glancing over his shoulder at me while giving me the perfect view of his sexy back and ass.
Seriously, I could take a bite out of his ass.
“Eyes up here,” he adds.
Blinking slowly, I repeat, “Ya know, a thing. Like showers and suits and germs and cleanliness and all that jazz.”
“And like your thing with money and relationships and handouts and––”
“Okay, okay,”––I raise my hands in defense––“you’ve made your point. We all have our things. I won’t pry.”
His triumphant smirk makes me press my thighs together.
“Order whatever you want, and I’ll eat it. My wallet is on the nightstand. Give them my credit card number.”
“I can buy,” I start.
“Don’t argue with me.”
I bite my tongue, preventing me from doing exactly that. Dialing the nearest pizza place, I order a large pepperoni pizza with breadsticks and cinnamon twists on the side. I slip Henry’s discarded dress shirt on and button it, rolling the sleeves up to my elbows while heading for the kitchen. A buzz on the intercom system greets me as I approach his foyer. Assuming it’s the delivery man, I push the accept button, and the elevator opens a minute later.