"I do..."
She rubs her hands up and down my legs as I talk about Trevor and tell her more about my family. She laughs at some of the stories from our childhood. He's only two years younger than I am, but in reality, we're nothing alike. He's a successful engineer who spends his days constructing bridges that go from figures to sketches, to models, to giant structures. Where I see logistics, distribution, and markets, he sees construction and infrastructure. He makes a good living, but wealth was never his dream, much like our parents.
Kimbra's response time slows as we lie in the warm water with only music and the faint popping of bubbles as our backdrop. For a moment I think she’s fallen asleep, when she quietly asks, “You did it, didn’t you?”
“Got the most amazing woman I know into my tub? I most certainly did.”
“No,” she says, not looking at me. “You accomplished everything the agency scout promised Tessa. The airplane, big house, and money.”
Her words zap me. It's the truth I’ve hidden. “I didn't do this for her. I have no desire to ever have her back. Don’t ever think I do. We were just kids.”
Kimbra's soapy hand stills on my kneecap beside her.
“I don’t think that. I think you had a goal after you put yourself back together. It just happened that Mike had a similar dream for a different reason.”
I swallow the response.
I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, Kimberly Ann Jones sees the void I’ve carried around for years. And in seeing it, she is filling it.
I run my hands over her stomach and breasts as her head falls backward. “Kimbra, I don’t usually talk about this...but I want to.” I kiss her hair. “You make me do all sorts of things I don’t usually do.”
“I'm quite fond of many of the things you do. I’ll tell you which is my favorite in the morning.”
I take a deep breath. “I didn’t realize what I was doing at first, what my goal was or why I'd set out to accomplish it. I don’t even think Mike knew. We both wanted success. It was my mom who made the connection. It took her years. Yet, in a matter of days, you did too.”
“I-I…”
“I’m glad,” I say honestly.
"Do you think she knows?"
I close my eyes. "I don't care."
"Duncan, you're successful. Buchanan and Willis is international. It wouldn't be hard for her to learn—"
I cut her off. "That may have been part of my motivation when Mike and I began our endeavor, but it isn't any longer. I no longer cringe when her face shows up on a movie screen or in a magazine. She had an impact on my life, but it's over."
"Has she married? Had kids?"
I grip her shoulders. "I don't know. She keeps her personal and professional life separated. The thing is that I don't care. I could find out if I wanted to. I don't.
"I want to be truthful with you, Kimbra. I want you to know me, the real me. And I want the same from you. I think it was your family. Seeing you there. You allowed me to see that side of you, one that's so real, so different than the fantastic, polished professional.” My grip morphs to an embrace as I hug her tightly against my chest. “You trusted me with the real you. I want to trust you with the real me.”
When I loosen the embrace, she slowly spins to her knees in front of me, causing the water to slosh around the tub. Once we’re facing one another, she cocks her head to the side. “It’s time for the real truth, the make-or-break deal. Are you ready?”
I nod, unsure where this will go.
“Peanut butter or jelly?”
I smile at the way she can make everything casual and fun, and then I find my serious tone. “Alone, definitely jelly. I can do peanut butter if they’re together, but even then, it has to be creamy and only on white bread.”
“Yes!” she proclaims. “I agree. Why have healthy bread with peanut butter and jelly?”
Our lips find one another. Her amazing, bubble-covered tits slide over my chest. As my hands roam, her nipples bead.
“Ride me, baby.”
Our legs move until she’s over me. As we come together, her head falls to my shoulder.
“Oh,” she murmurs.
This feels different, like the signing of a deal. I gave her my true self and she did the same. With those realities floating around us, we're sealing the agreement. There’s no urgency as we move to a slower melody.
As Kimbra allows my hands on her hips to choreograph this new dance and her eyes fill with heavy lust, I know the difference. I’m not fucking Kimbra. We’re making love.
By the time we dry off and fall onto my soft sheets, we’re both exhausted.
“I know this isn’t the smaller bed of your childhood room, but I don’t plan to let you get too far away.”
“Hmm,” she agrees as she settles into my embrace, her back to my front.
The scent of shampoo and hairspray fill my senses as I nuzzle against her soft hair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, her voice soft just before her breathing evens and body goes limp.
“Good night, Kimberly Ann,” I whisper, though I know she’s already sleeping. “What have you done to me?”
I lie awake for a few moments with her question about Tessa bouncing through my head. For one of the first times I can remember, I’m where I want to be. I may have made poor decisions along the way, but if Tessa or the woman in the bathroom or anyone else led me to now, to Kimbra, I’d do it all again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kimbra
As the car that arrived for Duncan at precisely seven this morning moves through Midtown traffic, he reaches for my hand. "I like riding to work together...and having breakfast with you...and waking up next to you."
The sweet ache in my core reminds me that we did more than wake. My gaze flies forward from Duncan to the back of Pierce's head and returns to Duncan. "Duncan?"
He shakes his head. "Get used to it, beautiful. Pierce, Jorge, they see all and know all."
"Jorge?" I think of the way he'll look at me now. I'll no longer be scary Kimbra, but...what? Mr. Willis's latest...
Duncan's rambling talk doesn't help my nerves.
"Oh, yes," he goes on. "He'll figure out quickly enough that every time you're summoned to my office, I turn the glass opaque."
"I-I can't..."
"But you know those sexy noises you make that I like so much?" Before I can answer, he goes on. "I should tell you that the glass isn't soundproof."
I shake my head. "No. It isn't happening. Not at work. No."
I remember the saying about protesting too much. Besides, the way Duncan's eyes twinkle makes me want to reconsider my objection. I guess...if the glass is opaque...
"Seriously," he goes on, "I've looked at my schedule for today. As much as I'd love to bend you over my desk..."
"Stop." I need him to quit saying that or those thoughts will consume my mind all day long.
"As much as I'd love that, I'm going to be swamped. I was uncharacteristically absent for a day and a half followed by a three-day weekend."