Page 15 of Come in with the Rain
Iwake up in a sweat, hard as a fucking rock. I lie there in the dark and replay my dream over and over again. Stella Hart, her mouth sliding up and down my cock. I slip my hand under the covers.
Jerking off to dirty dreams about Stella has become my morning routine. I try time and again to forget the look of her stretched out in Mickey’s bed, all curves and creamy skin, but my dick refuses to let the image go. It pretends that Stella was there for me, waiting for me to come up to that door so that she could go up on her elbows, open her mouth, and take me deep.
My balls pull up tight, and I hiss, torn between playing out the whole fantasy and getting it over with quick so I won’t feel so guilty about it later. I stroke myself slow and imagine her, letting me put my hands in her long hair, letting me guide her deeper, until she has to come off me with a gasp. Her lips all wet and pink.
I come, spilling onto my stomach with a sigh. This is getting a little ridiculous. Maybe I should just go to a bar or something, find a woman who won’t mind helping me blow off some steam.
But as I lie there, I know it won’t be enough. I could have an orgy with a whole troupe of women, and it wouldn’t be enough because it’s not Stella. She’s the only one I want, which is pretty inconvenient because I’m fairly certain I’m never going to see her again. It’s been a week since I made my offer, and I haven’t heard a peep. She’s probably horrified that I made the offer at all. I mean, yeah, it gets her an updated condo, but she has to have a complete stranger in her home at all times. I could be a serial killer for all she knows.
I roll out of bed and take a quick shower before making myself some toast for breakfast. I don’t have a ton of time before I have to head over to Ford’s place to retile his bathroom. I’m charging half what I would charge anyone else, but a job is a job.
On the counter, my phone rings. I answer it without looking, putting it on speakerphone so I don’t have to stop buttering my toast. “Hey, Ford, I’ll be there in ten minutes. I got a little bit of a late start.”
“Who’s Ford?”
My gaze shoots to my screen, where Stella’s name is lit up in bold letters. Shit. I drop my knife with a clatter and scramble for my phone, taking it off speaker and pressing it to my ear. “Stella. Hey. Sorry, I thought you were a friend of mine.” My heart is racing, and I feel like she’ll be able to hear it in my voice.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting. Maybe a polite brush-off or even a comment about how she’s still considering it, when it’s really obvious that she’s going to say no. But instead, she says, “I want to do this.”
My irrational brain, and maybe my dick a little, completely misunderstands her. Coming off that fantasy of her that I just jerked off to, my brain hears, “I want to do this. I want to come to your house and fuck you.” I’m fairly certain that’s not what she meant.
I’m quiet too long, and she says, “Does your offer still stand?”
“Yes,” I spit out quick. “Yes, it still stands. I have a job I’m starting today, but I can be there Monday.”
“Yeah, okay.” There’s something in her voice, something tentative, and I want to ask her about it, but she doesn’t need me in her business. “I’ll see you Monday.”
She’s about to hang up, but I have something to say. Something I should have said a long time ago. “Stella, hey.”
“Yeah?”
I stare down at my toast, going cold. I could just let this rest. I could pretend it never happened, and we could both move on. But that’s not the kind of guy I am. Grabbing onto my knife, I push it into the tub of butter, watching it sink in smooth.
“I owe you an apology.”
Over the line, she sighs. “Adam, if this is about Mickey—”
“It’s not.” I let go of the knife and pace into my living room. “It’s about that first day. When I—” The words get caught in my throat, and I clear it with a small cough. “I didn’t mean to look into your bedroom that day. I certainly didn’t think—”
“Oh, my God,” she says, loud enough to cut me off. “Adam, we don’t have to talk about that. You don’t have to apologize. I know you weren’t, like, being a creep or anything. You can just—”
“No,” I say over her. “I want you to feel safe with me. I’m about to spend a lot of time in your house, and I don’t want you to have any reason to think I would do anything to make you uncomfortable. I swear I will be as professional as I possibly can be.”
“I know,” she says, this time in a whisper so quiet that I almost keep talking right over her. “It’s okay, Adam. It’s fine. We’ll be professional. No worries.” She has that strange tone to her voice again, like she’s forcing herself to speak. “I’ll see you on Monday, Adam.”
For a long time after she hangs up, I stand in the middle of my living room, feeling like someone who’s just been knocked off balance.
CHAPTER17
ADAM
The first time I show up at Stella’s place to work, she’s not alone.
“I’d like to apologize in advance,” she says when she lets me in.
On Stella’s couch is a woman about Stella’s age with long, dark hair and the brightest red lips I’ve ever seen. “Hello!” she says. “I’m Abby. You must be the hunk.”
Stella glowers at her. “Nobody calls you that,” she says in my direction, and then her eyes pop wide. “Not that you’re not…” She waves vaguely at me, and I clench my jaw to hold in a smile as Stella’s entire face turns the most gorgeous shade of pink.
