Page 70 of All Twerk, No Play

Theshockathissong choice must have been apparent on my face because his lips quirked into a pleased smile. He began singing, lyrics describing a scenario that felt too real: the singer watching a woman’s apartment, watching her lover’s car leave, asking to be let in.

I expected his eyes to flicker to Lawrence, to silently tell me that he was orchestrating this scene to incite jealousy. When I glanced briefly at Lawrence, that coward hid behind his menu. His wife didn’t disguise her lusty expression locked on Eric. But he didn’t seem to notice anybody else in the restaurant, his gaze never straying from my face.

Melissa Etheridge’s song knocked on the door to our unspoken connection. His song choice didn't ask to throw his hat in the ring as a suitor because he doesn’t want forever. The request was simple: one night, to touch once more.

His voice rose to a powerful plea. His belly filled with enough air to carry him through the challenging stanzas as he belted about coming over, to hell with the consequence. The lyrics resonated to my core, my gut’s desire battling with my mind’s logic.

Nothing about my body’s reaction to him made an iota of logical sense.

Why him? It’s a need I can’t explain, a chemistry I can’t replicate.

I’ve tried to squelch my desire, to convince my body to ignore its reaction..

Yet still, I burn.

So why deny the fire? Why not give in to the blaze?

The hunt for a suitable husband can begin anew tomorrow.

Tonight, just like the lyrics requested: I’ll open the back door.

I was momentarily distracted as our meals arrived, the server stacking two carry-out boxes with a cheeky wink. I handed her cash, meeting Eric’s eyes as I transferred the meals into the to-go containers, and his gaze heated into an inferno.

When the song ended, he practically threw the guitar at its owner. I stood at our table as his long strides crossed the restaurant in record time. Before he caught his breath, his palms gripped my hips and I pulled his lips to mine. Vaguely I heard the diners’ reaction, but for once, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything else but Eric’s greedy lips, his confident hands pulling me closer, the pulsing of my heart against his chest.

Tonight, I would take my night.

“Guess the song worked after all,” the guitarist said into his mic, but I knew the truth: The song only accelerated the inevitable.

Eric picked up our takeout boxes and ushered me out with a hand on the small of my back, speed walking to our building. A block away, he pulled me into a brick alley and pressed me up into the wall, his mouth meeting mine again. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he moaned into my mouth, “Vic.”

This man who ran wind sprints without breaking a sweat—my shortened name was the only syllable he could manage. His breathlessness made me feel powerful, like I could bring him to his knees. Perhaps literally.

That is, until he pulled away. “I have a legal question.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I spat out, and his head dropped back into that deep belly laugh that I craved. The tilt pressed his hips forward into mine, his denim-clad erection forcing the breath out of both of us.

“You know my policy. I don’t sleep with my tenants,” he said, brows furrowed. A storm of emotions flowed through me. Disappointment, rejection, fury that he—“How do I get around that?”

Oh. My brain came back online. “Is it in your employment contract?”

“Don’t have one.” He chuckled at my disappointed expression over the lack of paperwork.

“So where does the policy come from?”

“I don’t want anybody to think I’m giving preferential treatment.”

“So this isn’t a legal problem, just an ethical dilemma.”

“I try not to act unprofessionally in the building, even when I really,” he leaned down to run his lips along my neck, “really want to.” His lips trailed my collarbone, and I tilted my head to improve his access.

Who was this woman, making out in an alley? Sneaking into her own condo? Ready to have sex with her superintendent? Her incredibly charismatic, muscular, and aroused superintendent, whose hand was exploring the hem of her dress … and who was about to let him …

I’m a lawyer. I cannot be charged with public indecency, I could lose my license, I reminded myself. More importantly: If I called Alexander to bail me out of jail, he'd never shut up about it.

That was the splash of cold water I needed. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

"Vienna," Billy Joel

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