Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) (20 page)

“Here goes
nothing,” I said as I removed my right shoe and wiggled my toes in an effort to
get some air around them so that they could breathe and hopefully smell less
offensive than they might have otherwise.
 

Brock watched
me for a moment, and then he just shook his head at me—and took
charge.
 
He lifted my leg onto his
lap, horrified me when he dipped his nose toward my foot, and then breathed in
my scent before he kissed the tips of my toes.
 

“Just as I
expected,” he said.
 
“They smell
feminine.
 
Just like you.”

“You mean when
I’m not a lioness?”

“What can I
say?” he said as he gently began kneading my foot with his hands.
 
“I like the lioness in you.
 
And all of the other facets that make
you who you are.”

“And yet we
don’t really know each other yet, do we?”

“I don’t know,”
he said.
 
“For some reason that I
can’t put into words, I feel as if I’ve known you longer than a week.
 
Years longer.
 
A week doesn’t even make sense to me at
this point.
 
Since we first met,
I’ve struggled to think why that is.
 
But I’ve since decided to just give up wondering why and to go with
what’s in my heart.
 
To accept what
this might be between us.
 
And to
hope that it only goes deeper than either of us ever could have imagined.
 
I’m hoping that you feel the same way.”

When I didn’t
answer, he gave me a concerned look.

“But maybe I
just went too far.”

“You didn’t,” I
admitted.
 
“Because I feel the same
as you.
 
But I don’t want to analyze
it, Brock, because doing so would only cheapen it.
 
All I want to do now is just enjoy it and
accept it as something special that should be treated with honesty and
respect.
 
Despite the fear of God
that Blackwell put in me earlier in the week when she ‘sensed a change in the
air’ the moment we met, I decided that when you kissed me this morning that I
have to see where this goes.
 
Because there was something in that kiss that I can’t deny.
 
When you touch me, something takes hold
of me that’s electrifying.
 
How can
I ignore that?
 
I’m fully aware that
all of this might go nowhere between us—and I’m prepared to accept that,
to walk away as friends if either of us decides that this won’t work out.
 
But to be fair to both of us, I need to
smash down the barriers Blackwell has tried to build between us and see for myself
what comes of this.
 
I’m being paid
to do a job for her, which I do to the best of my ability.
 
But after yesterday at Gordon’s and our
little break-room rendezvous this morning, which nearly sent me to the moon and
back, I decided that I can’t let her interfere with this any longer.
 
No job is worth the sacrifice of my
personal life.
 
Today I came to
terms with that.
 
I also have to
trust a man again, and I think that you’re worth the risk.”
 
I looked into his eyes, and I felt
absolutely naked to him.
 
“And there
you have it,” I said.
 
“The truth.”

“I haven’t been
able to get you out of my head since we first met,” he said.
 
“I can’t focus.
 
My paper for Alex was shit because my
thoughts have been consumed by you.
 
By the possibilities of you.
 
I see you sitting across from me, and I just want to be with
you—and by that, I mean intimate with you.
 
And not just in a sexual way.
 
That’s what has really fucked me up
because it’s so much deeper than that.
 
Am I attracted to you?
 
Hell
yes.
 
But that attraction is multifaceted
in ways that I’ve already told you.
 
I’ll say it again—I’ve never met anyone like you.
 
But I’m no fool.
 
I know that this doesn’t happen often,
so I need to pay attention to it now.”

“But not at the
cost of your job,” I said.

“Now that we’ve
come clean with each other about how we feel, the anxiety I’ve felt when it
comes to you will fade away, and the focus will return.”

“Anxiety?”

“I never
thought that a woman like you would be interested in a man like me, especially
after Blackwell told you about my past.
 
I don’t know how much she told you, but if you’d like to hear it from
me, I’m happy to explain.”

“All right.”

“I modeled to
pay my way through my undergrad years, and in that world, as you can imagine,
there were plenty of women who wanted a one-night stand.
 
Because I was a successful model, there
was a time when my family thought that I was going to give up my education and
model professionally.
 
But where
would that have gotten me when I turned forty?
 
Fifty?
 
Jesus, did they think that I was that
stupid?
 
Blackwell is
correct—when I was modeling, I was happily sowing my wild oats at the age
of twenty.
 
But that was years
ago.
 
That’s the Brock Wenn that
Blackwell and too many others can’t get out of their heads.
 
All of them think I’m that same person
today.
 
But they’re wrong about
me.
 
I’m not that person anymore,
but since Blackwell is nothing if not an authoritative figure, I feared that
when she said that I was a womanizer, you might believe her.
 
And why wouldn’t you?
 
It came from your boss’s mouth.
 
Still, it’s been driving me crazy this
past week because I can promise you this—that woman never knew that I
told my father to take his money and shove it up his ass when I got into
Wharton.
 
I knew that when I did
that, he’d shut me down financially—which he did—and that I’d have
to make it at Wharton on my own, with student-loan debts that are crushing me
today.
 
But whatever.
 
I got through it.
 
I graduated.
 
And I’m happy to no longer be under his
control.
 
Because of all that, I had
to grow up.
 
So here’s what it comes
down to for me, Madison—I don’t want to get to the end of my days without
saying that I was amazed.
 
And you
amaze me.
 
And if you want to know
the real truth right now?
 
I’ll give
it to you.”

“What real
truth?” I said, trembling as he rubbed my foot.

“I want to make
love to you,” he said.
 
“Now.
 
And I hope that you want the same,
because not being with you is driving me mad.
 
But I will respect your decision if you
don’t want to go forward with that because it has, in fact, only been a
week.
 
I’m willing to wait.
 
I just wanted you to know. . . .”

I pressed my
finger against his lips and stopped him short.
 
“I want the same thing,” I said.
 
“But I want it to be special.
 
If I’m going to give myself to you,
Brock, I want it to be romantic in ways that I never could have imagined.
 
Why?
 
Because when I look back on this day,
which I will over and over again, I want to know for certain that we did it
right.
 
So think about that.
 
Decide on which hotel is the perfect hotel.
 
And then take me there tonight and make
love to me in ways that you’ve never made love to another woman.
 
That’s all I ask.
 
It’s all I want.
 
And when you do make love to me, I want
you to shake me to my core, because that’s exactly what I plan to do to you.”

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

By the time we
left the Park, it was decided that Brock would pick me up at my apartment at 8:30.
 
In the interim, each of us wanted to go
home, take a shower, change our clothes, grab a quick bite to eat, and look our
best for each other.
 

As we moved onto
Fifth, Brock’s arm was wrapped tightly around my waist, and I wondered if he
could feel the shivers of anticipation that were coursing through my body.
 
I couldn’t remember when I’d felt so
alive, so terrified, so happy, and so nervous all at once.
 

I was not just
ready to be with a man again—I was ready to be with
this
man.
 

Everything
seemed heightened to me as we walked over to catch the train at the Fifty-Ninth
Street Station—the city’s colors were brighter, the traffic sounds were
louder, and Brock’s presence was stronger than it had ever been, which ignited the
lioness within me that would soon be unleashed.
 

His hand ran up
and down the length of my back, just over the curve of my ass, and sometimes,
he’d bend his head down to gently kiss me on the neck, my lips, or just behind
my ear, a spot that was so sensitive to me, I could feel myself becoming
aroused.

“I don’t think
I’m going to make it until 8:30,” I said.

“At least
you’re not the one walking with an erection.”

I couldn’t help
but laugh.
 
“So,
that’s
why
you’re carrying your jacket in front of you?”

“One needs to
be strategic about these sorts of things, Madison.”

As we reached
the subway’s entrance and started to walk down the stairs with people rushing up
and down on either side of us, I said, “Let’s just say that this girl wishes
she was wearing a thicker bra, because the girls have become nothing short of a
couple of darts—and they’re being absolutely obnoxious right now.”

*
 
*
 
*

 
When I got home, it was nearly seven, and
I needed to hurry if I was going to get ready in time.
 
I stuck my key inside the door, stepped
inside the blessedly cool apartment, tossed my bag onto the side table in the
entryway, and was met with a glass of wine by Rhoda.
 
She was wearing a bright yellow muumuu,
a matching yellow turban, and she had some sort of greenish mask on her
face—one of the ingredients, I’m sure, being hemp.

“Here you go,
lover,” she said as she handed me the glass.
 
“Drink up—from what the universe
has been telling me, you probably need it.”

“Thank you,” I
said to her as I took the glass and sipped the cold liquid.
 
“But how do you even know?
 
You told me that you can’t get a read on
him.”

“I
can’t—that boy is a frustrating wall of zip to me—but I can
certainly zero in on you, toots.
 
And for the past couple of hours or so, all I’ve been seeing around you
are drawings from the
Kama Sutra.
 
So, you know, it doesn’t take much for me to put two and two
together—and in all sorts of crazy sexual positions, which I believe
you’ll be enjoying tonight.
 
If you
knew what popped into my head, you’d faint.”

“You’re
terrible,” I said.

“And you’re not
only about to get hammered, but also to hammer the final nail into your Summer
of Resolve!”

“I’m as turned
on as I am terrified,” I admitted to her.

“Oh,
honey—that shit is coming off you in waves.
 
Say no more.
 
In fact, you need to get ready.
 
And fast.”

“First, what on
earth do you have on your face?
 
You
look like an alien.”

“It’s a Mary
Jane mask!
 
A friend made it for
me.”

“What’s a Mary
Jane mask?”

She rolled her
eyes at me.
 
“Seriously?
 
Come on!
 
OK, fine.
 
You obviously haven’t heard of the
term.
 
Call it a marijuana mask for
those who don’t partake.
 
And
believe me, it’s going to do wonderful things for my pores.”

“Well, it’s
certainly going to relax them.”

“Oh, yes,
probably that, too. . . .”

“You know, he’s
taking me to a hotel,” I said.

“In fact, I do
know.”

“Which hotel?”

“No
idea—that’s in his head, not yours.”

“Help me find
something to wear.”

When I said
that, she took her hands and lifted the sides of her muumuu in such a way that
the fabric fluttered around her while she danced this way and that.
 
“There might already be something
waiting on your bed for you.
 
If
only for the sake of time and to help out my bestie, I’ve taken certain
liberties.
 
Of course, you can
always choose something else to wear if you’d like, but what I found deep
within the recesses of that crowded closet of yours has always looked smoking hot
on you.”

“I need to look
as if I’m on fire, Rhoda.”

“Let’s just say
that I think he’s already accomplished that for you.”

“You know what
I mean.”

“Then let’s go
to your bedroom and see if you like what I picked out.”

When we did, it
was perfection—a deep-red jersey dress that hugged every curve I had.
 
“I’d forgotten about this dress,” I
said.
 
“And I love it.
 
It’s sexy, and better yet, it doesn’t
scream ‘whore.’”

“Exactly!
 
And I might have even gone to the
laundromat down the street and tossed it in a dryer with a fragrant towelette.
 
You know, to make it smell as if it was
just dry-cleaned.”

“You did that
for me?”

“I might have
even ironed it for you.”

“Rhoda, you
really are the best.”

“And you really
need to get into the shower.
 
The
planets are telling me that you’re meeting him around eight or so.”

“8:30.
 
And he’s coming here!
 
You’ll be able to meet him.”

“Like this?”
she said.
 
“How could you do that to
me?”

“You’ll have
time to wash your face—I promise.
 
But I also need a good pair of shoes, and the right kind of sexy
underwear, not that I have much of that, for obvious reasons.
 
But if memory serves, I do think that I
have a few things in my bureau that might work.
 
They need to be hot.
 
Hell, I need to look hot.”

“Take your
shower,” she said.
 
“Let me handle
the rest.
 
I might have been out of
the game since like, uh, forever, but I still know what a man wants, which is
exactly what I plan on giving Barry when we finally meet and fall in love with
each other in just three short years!”

“I can’t wait
for you to have that day,” I said.

“Darling,
neither can my rabbit.”

*
 
*
 
*

When I emerged
from the bathroom, I was pretty much ready to go.
 
My hair and makeup were done, I’d dabbed
just the faintest scent of my favorite perfume on my neck and wrists, and I
actually thought that I looked especially good, with my smoky eyes and red,
pouty lips.

 
To change things up, I’d used a curling
iron on my stick-straight hair and shaken out the curls so that they were loose
and slightly tousled, hopefully in an alluring way.
 

It had been so
long since I’d dressed for a man, my inspiration for this look was driven by
pure instinct, the help of fashion magazines I read, and the idea that with
enough work, I might come close to what was currently fashionable and sexy now.

For me, the
jury was still out on whether I’d succeeded.
 
Before Brock arrived, it would be Rhoda
who would have the final say, and her word meant everything to me because she had
never once bullshitted me.

“The bathroom
is yours!” I called out to her as I rushed into my bedroom.

“And thank the
universe for that,” she said from the living room.
 
“I can’t have your new suitor seeing me
looking as if I just stepped off the mother ship.
 
And by the way, toots, I found the
perfect bra and panties for you tucked way at the back of your bureau—they
are scorching hot!
 
And I found two
pairs of heels for you to choose from, though I already know which ones you’re
going to choose, so whatever.
 
But
it’s 8:15!
 
We both need to move
it!
 
He’ll be here within mere
moments!”

I looked at the
bed to see what she’d chosen for undergarments and knew at once that they were
just right—a red floral-lace thong and bra that were so delicate and sexy,
I could already feel Brock removing them from my body.
 

The shoes were
a no-brainer.
 
I tossed aside the pair
I didn’t like and chose the red- satin slingback pumps with the three-inch heels.
 
Thanks to a long-ago trip to Century 21,
all of this had cost me a fraction of what I would have paid for it at retail,
but when I finished dressing and stood in front of my bedroom mirror, I had to admit
that the look Rhoda had managed to cobble together for me made me feel like a
million bucks.
 
I hoped that Brock
would also enjoy what he saw, because if he did, it would give me the
confidence boost I needed.

As excited as I
was about tonight, I was also scared shitless.

Since I knew
that I’d need to pack a bag for tomorrow morning, I swiftly chose a pair of
dark skinny jeans, a white tank top, a pair of sandals, and underwear.
 
When Rhoda emerged from the bathroom, I
hurried past her while she whooped when she saw me, and filled my makeup bag
with everything I’d need for the morning.
 
With that done, I was essentially ready—and with just minutes to
spare.

“I’m sweating,”
I said to Rhoda when I emerged from the bathroom and placed my overnight bag in
the foyer.

“Stand in front
of Bessie right now,” she said from the couch.
 

She was still
in her muumuu, but without the turban, and her cherubic face looked positively
glowing to me.
 
I went over to
Bessie, lifted my arms above my head, and let the cool air wash over my
body.
 

“Madison,
sweetie, I’ve gotta say it—you look stunning.
 
And I mean that.
 
I love what you’ve done with your hair,
and especially with your makeup.
 
Those eyes!
 
How they
smolder!
 
You look like a sex
kitten, toots.”

“But do I look
like a slut?
 
That’s the question.”

“A slut?
 
Far from it.
 
You look like an elegant main
course.
 
What man wouldn’t want to
have you on his arm—or in his bed?
 
You know, sometimes when I look at you, I wish I was as
well-proportioned as you are.
 
I
know that Barry won’t mind my size when we meet, but still.
 
To be as pretty as you are right now,
I’ve never felt that.”

“Rhoda, you are
beautiful,” I said.
 
“Inside and
out.
 
You’re one of the most
beautiful people I’ve ever met.
 
And
you know that I’m telling you the truth.
 
You know that I’m not saying that just to make you feel good about
yourself.
 
I mean it.”

“I know you do,
love,” she said with a kind of sadness in her eyes.
 
“But I’ve been fat since even before I
knew what being fat was.
 
I’ve never
been able to lose the chunk.
 
And
look at me—I’m in a fucking yellow muumuu, for God’s sake.
 
And there you are, looking like a Greek
goddess.”
 
She waved a hand in front
of her face.
 
“But who gives a damn
about me,” she said.
 
“I am who I
am, and I’m proud of who I am.
 
It’s
just that sometimes I wish that I could look like you.”

“Don’t make me
cry.
 
You sound unhappy—I
can’t stand it when you’re unhappy.”