Page 128 of The Secret

It wasthefirst date.

The week between our first and second date, I floated around on the shiniest silver lined cloud, powered by bubbles nothing could burst. Every day I’d wake up to a message telling me to have a beautiful day, and every night, he’d send one wishing me sweet dreams. In between, my phone would light up with random crossword clues or pictures of Bell and Barclay, because it wasn’t just Murray I was missing. I filled my time looking for an apartment, viewing more than any other New Yorker had possibly viewed, before I found the perfect one bed, situated on the Upper East Side, a stone’s throw from Columbia and ready for me to move in at the end of the month.

Just before my new job started.

After Payton and I had packed up my things and I’d had time to think about what he’d said, I’d decided that maybe he was right about Columbia. I was right about us needing space, but he was right about my job hunt, or lack thereof. Iwasscared. Scared of failing. Ironically though, the determination I had forusto survive by walking away ignited the fire I needed to see me through my visit to Professor Grady. The role she’d offered me as one of her research assistants across her portfolio of Shakespeare focused courses, was to start on June 1.

I called to tell him. He was waiting on the doorstep when I reached my apartment, announcing he’d brought forward our second date, and then swept me away for dinner and champagne telling me how proud he was. And just like the end of our first date, he walked me to the door and kissed me on the cheek.

I’d thought for our third date I might have received at least a kiss on the lips, but I was wrong. Even after I’d planned our day out - taking him to a spring fairground which had opened in Riverside Park where I’d succeeded in winning him a giant stuffed toy lion on the coconut shy – I’d still only received the briefest of kisses to my cheek as a goodbye.

It was a good job my vibrator was rechargeable, because by the time our third date came around, it had been nineteen days since he’d touched me, since his lips had been on mine, since I’d tasted him on my tongue, and it felt like every single cell in my body had been soaked in gasoline and I needed to be kept away from any open flame or electronic device for fear I’d explode in a ball of fire.

The situation was becoming dire. Day twenty was rolling around and I’d decided to no longer play fair, making the only sensible decision I could under the circumstances. I bribed Payton into coming shopping with me, and that was why I was currently wearing a dress which made my previous Payton purchases seem positively nun-like.

“Pay, are you ready?”

For our fourth date, Murray announced he wanted me to meet his best friends, because except for any references to Bell and Barclay, we were still keeping up the pretense that we’d met in the bar. It was also a date I was particularly excited about because aside from the gala, I’d not spent much time with them as a trio, and as it was both our best friends, it meant Payton was coming along too.

“Two minutes!” she yelled from the bathroom.

I checked myself in the full length mirror she’d hung in her bedroom. It was Friday night and the dress I was wearing had been specifically chosen because it showed off the assets of mine which Murray had deemed his favorite – or the most favorite – tits, ass, and legs.

Thick gold shoulder straps hoisted up my boobs, creating a cleavage even I’d be envious of if I hadn’t known they were mine, darker gold bands crisscrossing underneath and over my body, creating the illusion I was wrapped up, for Murray to undo. I’d left my hair to fall in the loose curls he liked to twirl his fingers around, and my lips were bare, except for a swipe of balm, because I’d planned on being kissed all night. Finally, another raid of Payton’s shoe closet had me standing in a pair of strappy five inch heels, lengthening my legs which I’d painstakingly spent hours applying fake tan to.

“Jesus,” Payton whistled, walking over to the mirror and looking her usual effortlessly glamourous self in ripped jeans and a bandage top. “He’s going to come in his pants.”

Which was exactly the effect I wanted to have on him. “Either him or me.”

“Come on, you fiend, let’s go,” she smirked.

Twenty minutes later, our cab pulled up outside the bar Murray told us to meet him in, to find him waiting outside the door. He didn’t come in his pants, but his reaction was almost as good.

His slow gaze draped over me, scorching me from the inside out. “Jesus Ker-ist.”

He wrapped my hand in his, pulling me into the bar.

“Payton, the boys are over there,” he pointed to somewhere across the room, though his eyes never left mine, “go and find them. They have drinks waiting, and we’ll catch up.”

Payton snorted loudly with anI told you sorise of her eyebrow, and took off to find Penn and Rafe.

My arm was nearly wrenched from the socket at the speed with which he hauled me away from the entrance, in the opposite direction Payton had headed, and I found myself pushed hard against a wall along a dark corridor, my body hidden by his massive one, his hands pinned by my head.

His nose brushed through my hair, tracing along my jaw. “Do you know how impossible it’s been for me to keep my hands off you the past few weeks? And then you turn up wearing this?”

I groaned as his lips tickled under my ear, his breath as hot as my skin. “You’ve managed it though. You haven’t touched me once.”

He pulled back, his green eyes blazing with flecks of gold reflected off my dress.

“You haven’t even kissed me,” I sulked, the heavy beat between my legs louder than the music vibrating across my body.

“I wanted to respect your wishes. I wanted to give you what you asked for.” His hands were still firmly planted on the wall, as if moving them would have been too much for his resolve to stay chaste.

I had no memory of asking him not to touch me. I must have been crazy, or maybe I was suffering from amnesia, or idiocy, because I couldn’t imagine any scenario where I’d want that. My body yearned for it; practically buzzing in his presence, waiting to be reignited.

No, there’s no way I would have denied myself his touch.

No. Way.

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