Page 8 of Love Without Demands

Turning off the shower spray, I stepped out and dried off before going back to Dwight’s bed.

“Nice shower, baby?” he asked sleepily as he pulled my freshly sated body against him. He usually woke up after my showers, and I was sure he thought I was some kind of clean freak or something, though he was too polite to ever say anything about it.

“Very nice,” I murmured.

I’d felt guilty the first time I got myself off after being with Dwight, but goddamn, I’d been needy that night. Now I viewed it as a necessary evil. Women deserved satisfaction just like men did, and I’d come to grips with the fact that the man I loved wasn’t able to get me there. And that was okay. Setting aside the sex, Dwight was everything I needed in my life. Kind. Loyal. Honest.

I tried not to feel remorseful about my fantasies. Everyone had them, right? And it was something I enjoyed. Though I have always wished I could find a guy that was into the same things.

But I’d learned that those things were better enjoyed in private.

After all, no one wanted to indulge in my silly little role playing games.

“I’ll miss you, honey,” Dwight said, holding my face and kissing me in the middle of Detroit Metropolitan Airport. He always insisted on parking and coming inside with me. I protested each time, letting him know I didn’t mind being dropped off at the curb, but I secretly loved that he wanted to spend those last few minutes with me.

“I’ll miss you too,” I replied. We hugged for a long while, and I inhaled the scent of his woodsy cologne. “But I’ll see you next month.”

“As soon as I make my flight arrangements, I’ll send them to you.” We reluctantly separated, and Dwight held both my hands. “I’m still working on getting transferred to the New York office, but it’s going to be a while. There are a lot of projects I’m involved in here.”

“I know,” I assured him with a watery smile. “I’d better go so I don’t miss my flight.” Grasping the handle of my tiny suitcase, I blew him one more kiss and headed toward security.

As soon as I reached my gate, my cell phone rang, and I looked down at the display before answering. “Hey, Tony! You’re up early.”It’s five in the damn morning. Doesn’t he ever sleep?

“Hello, lovely Lehra. I have a surprise for you.”

“Ooh, is it Captain America?”

Tony Moschella’s laugh was warm and deep. I loved this guy. He was the personal assistant to Auburn Bouvier, the CEO ofone of the largest fashion companies in New York City, and I was the downstairs receptionist in theBouvierbuilding.

“Unfortunately, no, but I think you’ll be pleased. Bouvier is driving himself today, so I texted his driver to pick you up from the airport.”

“Are you serious? Screw Captain America. You, Tony, are the real hero here. That will save me a fortune in Uber fees.”

“I know, dear, and I enjoy taking care of you. You’re like my surrogate daughter since my Gianna lives in Texas.”

My heart went out to him. Tony talked about his daughter all the time, and I knew he missed her terribly. “Maybe she’ll come to visit soon,” I consoled.

“She’s got to finish school first,” he insisted. “She’s so smart, Lehra. Did I tell you she’s working on her master’s in accounting?”

I laughed and teased him a bit. “I think you may have mentioned it.About forty times.”

“Right,” he said, and I could hear the chagrined amusement in his voice. “Well, have a good flight, and I’ll look forward to seeing your smiling face in a couple hours.”

“Thanks, Tony, and tell Smithson I’ll meet him outside Terminal B.”

“Terminal B, got it. Oh, and remember, Smithson is retired as of Friday. The new guy has been helping out and learning the ropes the past few months, but he just took over full-time. I don’t think you’ve met Cruz yet.”

“Apt name for a driver,” I quipped. “Thanks again, Tony.”

“No problem, dear.”

That man is a saint,I thought as soon as we hung up. I wasn’t sure how he put up with Auburn Bouvier on a daily basis.

Walking out of the terminal, I glanced around for the black Bentley and spotted it a couple dozen steps away. The wheels of my suitcase made a clacking sound as they bumped over the cracks in the sidewalk when I headed in that direction.

That’s when I noticed the man standing beside the fancy car, and my feet faltered to a stop.Dear god in heaven!

He was around six foot three, in my estimation, and built like a brick shithouse with a chest that could only be described asexpansive. Well, and maybedeliciouswouldn’t be a bad descriptor.

---