Page 25 of Sweet (Chicago Underground 7)
I spent the next hour taking measurements of the walls and the windows for the renovations, big and small, that I would do. The upstairs was mostly unfinished and, I was disheartened to realize, would take more work to turn into a living space than I had thought. Maybe I should snag an apartment nearby and leave this as a break room. And we’d need a staging room for costumes at some point. I’d ask Drew when he showed up.
My phone vibrated on the bare tiled floor, the glow lit with four letters.
“Hey, you.”
“Sorry I’m running late. Work ran over.” I could hear the swish-swish of the wipers in the background.
“Tell Philip you get to leave early now that you’re dating his sister.”
“I don’t think that would go over so well, but I’m glad you told him about the studio.”
“He didn’t freak out.”
“He won’t freak out about us either.” At my silence, he amended, “I’d deal with him if he did.”
“I’ll tell him soon, I promise. How far are you?”
“One minute. I already stopped by my place. I wanted to…well, I guess you’ll figure it out at some point. I wanted to pick up a little in case I lured you back there.”
Something warmed inside me that he had planned to ask me to stay the night with him—and that he cared what I thought of his place. “So you’re a bit of a slob, is what you’re telling me.”
“A consummate bachelor,” he confirmed. “You’ll have to beat it out of me, I’m afraid.”
“I know I’ve told you I’m not into the kinky stuff.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.
I’ve been told I have an ass that turns a lovely shade of red.”
I laughed, blushing until I was sure my cheeks were a similar color.
“We’ll only do what you’re comfortable with. I can promise you that, Rose.”
“I liked what we did last time. I’m not sure how much further I can really go…or what else is out there.”
He was quiet a moment, and I heard shifting in the car. “I didn’t just mean sex. I mean us. I’m serious about being with you. I’m serious about you, Rose.”
My eyes fell shut. I wasn’t sure I could get the words out—but I didn’t know the right ones anyway. There was only a mass of desire that had little to do with physical acts, kinky or otherwise. I wanted him with an intensity that stole my breath and roused a fear that I would somehow lose him. Invisible arms waited in the wings to snatch away the things I wanted most.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked quietly.
“I believe you,” I said slowly. “I guess I can’t believe I actually have you, that I deserve you. It’s all so quick.”
I heard the smile in his voice. “Sweetheart, I’ve been waiting for you to come around for years. If this is your idea of quick, I’d hate to see you take it slow.”
I grinned. “Ah, but that’s all going to change tonight. I only need to spend a few more minutes here, and then we can head out. There’s a cabinet that’s too high for me to reach properly, and I wanted to ask you a question about renovating the upstairs. Then we have the rest of the night to…speed up.”
“Okay, hang tight.” The tick-tick-tick sound of a turn signal interrupted him. “I’m just parking, and I’ll be over.”
Curious, I wandered to the window, which was free of blinds or curtains. His silver Lexus was backing into a spot across the street, the red-and-yellow brake lights blurring in the rain. I put my fingers to the cool window as I’d done that first night. Back then, it had seemed like this was as close as we’d ever get, watching through the glass.
Now we had touched, and we would again tonight. All the nights unfolded before us, my newfound lust stretching its legs, a strengthening hope finding its balance. Truthfully, I wanted as long as he would have me, but I knew better than to tell him. Surely that would scare him away—as it would any sane man after a week of pseudo-dating.
I started to turn away from the window, to go downstairs and unlock the front door and let him in, but something caught my eye. A flash of white splashed across the brick-faced wall across the street as a small delivery truck careened around the corner.
It was too slippery for him to stop, he wouldn’t stop. I could see it happening. I shouted, but my words were caught by the glass and the storm. Drew crossed the street with his head down, just a blur of black suit jacket and pale, vulnerable flesh.
In a blur of white metal, he was lying in the street. I flew down the stairs, hurtled across the street, and held him, crying for him. Is he okay, they asked me, milling around, taking up all the air. I don’t know, of course not, he can’t be okay after being hit like that, oh God, oh God, I don’t know.
