I'll Be Your Everything (28 page)

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Authors: J.J. Murray

BOOK: I'll Be Your Everything
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Why are we even having this conversation? “He may have grown up with me, but he didn’t grow with me. I changed, and he stayed the same.”
He kneels in front of me. “But isn’t there something comforting about that? Bryan was someone you could count on.”
“I can count on you, too,” I say. “I’m relying on you more and more by the second. Why are you sticking up for him?”
He frowns. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just sticking up for myself, or my future self. You could just as easily brush me aside once I stopped ‘growing with you.’”
I’d need a bulldozer to brush this man aside, and I need to grow another foot just to see eye-to-eye with him. I look into my full-grown man’s brown eyes. “And you could do the same to me, right?”
“I won’t do that, Shari,” he says. “I don’t think you’ll ever finish growing. I have so much trouble keeping up with you already. Your mind works so much faster than mine. I just hope you will do me the courtesy of telling me face-to-face should you ever want to dump me.”
“Oh Tom, I won’t dump you.”
He doesn’t speak.
Okay, here’s another point. “So I should have said, ‘Sure, Bryan. C’mon up here to Brooklyn so I can dump you’?”
Tom wrinkles up his lips. “No.”
“Bryan was planning to stay with me through Thanksgiving Day.” I blink several times. “Would it have been better that Bryan and I shacked up for the weekend, without the ‘wall’ because he would have expected to get him some, and then I could have dumped him Thanksgiving Day?”
Tom looks away. “Of course not. Geez.” He stands and goes to the window. “I’m just saying, if I were him, I’d be knocking down your door tomorrow night.”
“But I won’t be here, right? I’ll be in Great Neck.”
He sighs. “I think you should be here tomorrow night, just in case he does show up. You owe him that much.”
“Didn’t you just hear me? He was planning to stay with me—here—through Thanksgiving.”
“I heard you.”
What’s going on? “You
want
me to spend the weekend and then some with my ex-boyfriend?”
“Of course not, Shari.” He shakes his head. “I was just saying that Bryan would have to be a complete fool not to come up here, okay? That’s all I’m saying.”
Is this our first fight? I think it is. I need to calm Tom down. “Well, as long as you’re here with me, it won’t be a problem.”
“Isn’t this something you have to do on your own?” he asks.
“I don’t know what the problem is!” I pick up a pencil and throw it at the window. Yeah, this is our first fight. I throw things. “You sweep me off my feet, do things to my body without even ...” I have to say this now. “You made me have an orgasm without even having sex with me, Tom. That has never happened to me before, and it scared me. You hold me like I’ve never been held, and you say the sweetest, most heart-stirring things to me. I have made my decision, Tom Sexton. I have chosen you. End of story.”
He picks up the pencil. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Shari.”
“I’m not upset. I’m just a little pissed.”
He smiles. “So fiery.”
I try not to laugh. “I’m content. I want you, just you. Bryan was holding me back in so many ways. You want me to take off.”
“Your clothes.”
“What?”
“I want you to take off your clothes.”
Now? While I’m pissed off? “I have to finish these banners, Tom. I’m not as technologically gifted as you are. I actually have to
think
about every button I click.”
“I just want to take some pictures while you work.” He picks up the camera. “It will give my hands something to do, and I promise I won’t interrupt you.”
Why don’t I believe that? I want him to interrupt me. I look out the window. “And you want me to take off my clothes in front of this window?”
He shakes his head. “No.” He squints. “But you could show me a little more skin.”
I’d love to. “Tom, I make it a point to be fully clothed whenever I walk around in here.”
“You were only wearing a towel yesterday morning.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s different, and it’s not as if anyone can see me. They’d have to be on a line with me.” And there isn’t anyone on a line with me. I’ve checked.
He looks out the window. “I’ll bet there are people with telescopes out there, and I’ll even bet that they’ve seen you in that towel.” He turns. “You may already be on the Internet.”
Despite my anger, I am strangely intrigued by this. I’m already beginning to sweat. Why do I feel so alive with this man? “You’ll, um, you’ll have to, um, give me some directions.” He gives very good directions.
He walks over and turns my chair to face the window. He rubs my shoulders before sliding his hands down my sides to my pants. I watch him pull my shirttail from my pants. He kisses my neck. Oh man. He unbuttons the bottom button, pressing my shirt against my thigh. He kisses my ear while he unbuttons the next two. I wish this shirt had more buttons. He frees the last button between my breasts and pulls my shirt apart. I am so glad I’m wearing a nice white bra today.
He steps back and takes a picture from behind me. “Sexy,” he says.
I giggle. Now where was I? Oh. Adjust contrast, bump up the color—
He returns to the back of my chair. I watch his hands travel down my sides again. He pulls my shirt apart wider and slides the shirt off my shoulders. He takes several more pictures, and I’m beginning to get hot and bothered.
I can’t possibly finish the web banners now.
“Throw your head back and close your eyes, Shari.”
I close my eyes. It’s like I’m his puppet or something. I hear the clicks, see the flashes, and hear him humming.
“I’m going to move you closer to the window now,” he says.
I feel the chair sliding effortlessly, I feel his hands on my ankles, I feel him placing my feet on the window ledge. More pictures. Sweat beads. I don’t dare open my eyes. I am so glad I’m wearing my jeans.
I feel his breath in my ear. “Think nice thoughts,” he says.
I am.
He rolls up my pants legs. Flash. He unbuttons but doesn’t unzip my jeans. Flash. He repositions my arms across my chest. Flash. He closes my shirt, buttoning one button in the middle. Flash. He crosses my legs. Flash.
“You should be a jeans model,” he says.
“Right,” I say.
He gently puts my feet on the floor. Flash. “Should I use the telephoto lens to see if anyone is looking at you?”
I open my eyes. “There’s no one out there, Tom.”
He shows me my last picture. Hey, that’s nice. The lighting is perfect, and I do look sexy.
“You’ll never know that for sure, Shari,” he says. “I was out there, and you didn’t see me.”
“I wasn’t looking for you.” Then. I jump off my chair and approach him. “Give me the camera, man.”
He does.
“Sit.”
He sits.
“Close your eyes.”
He does, but he won’t stop smiling.
“No smiles.”
He tightens his lips, but I can still see a smile.
I size him up in the viewfinder. There’s so much here to work with. “Take off your sweatshirt.”
He does.
I will need a wide-angle lens for his chest. I get a chair from the kitchen, stand on it, and begin snapping away.
“Am I allowed to talk?” he asks.
“No.”
I wish he had some buttons on his shirt to play with. What could I do with that T-shirt? I don’t want to tear it up. Yet. “Take off your T-shirt.”
He does.
I take lots of pics of his pecs. “Put your hands in your pockets.”
Man, he can barely get them into his pockets. And that is so sexy. I take more pictures. “You could model jeans, too.”
He smiles.
“No smiling.”
He frowns.
I focus and take pictures of his shoulders, his neck, his hairline, his ears, and his face. If I print these out right, I can make a Tom puzzle.
“You can open your eyes and talk now,” I say. I hand him the camera. “Take a look.”
He makes no sounds at all as he scrolls through the pictures until he gets to his body parts. “Man, I need to shave,” he says. “That is a very big ear.” He widens his eyes.
Oh yeah. I took a picture of his package. Bad Shari, bad, bad Shari.
I hand him his T-shirt, but he doesn’t put it on. He sets the camera on my computer table and holds out his arms.
That’s my cue.
I straddle him, unbuttoning the only button holding my shirt together. “I want to, um, get some skin-to-skin contact.”
He sighs. “And I want to hold you. Funny how we both want the same things at the same time.”
I take off my glasses and put them on the computer table. “Then let’s kill two birds with one stone.” I remember we’re in front of the window. “Um, someone could see us.”
“I want them to,” he says. “And I hope they have a very good telescope.”
And then we, well, try to rub the skin off each other. Kisses, sighs, nibbles, my front wearing out his front, his hands wearing out my booty.
He takes a breath. “I’m beginning to like your apartment very much, Shari. There are so many possibilities here. We will live here five days a week, weekends if you want. We don’t even have to travel. We can stay here twenty-four hours a day.” He pulls me close and rubs my back.
“Are you as excited as I am?” I ask.
“Yes.” He buttons up my shirt in a flash. “I don’t want you to catch cold.”
That will never happen as long as he’s around, but my skin was just getting its happy on. “Why’d you do that?”
“I just got an idea, and if I keep feeling your skin, I’ll forget my idea.”
Okay. My skin scrambles his brain. That’s good. “What’s your idea?”
“While I was taking pictures of you and while I was, um, putting my hands all over you, I got an idea. I looked at your skin, and I looked at my skin while I was touching your skin, and well ...” He locks my eyes with his baby browns. “Why don’t we do everything in black and white?”
I blink. I practically do a lap dance on the man, and this is the idea he comes up with?
“We can do the entire campaign in black and white,” he says. “Old school all the way. Nostalgia. I’ll show you what I mean.” He scoots the chair closer to my computer and loads up the picture of Carl. He tinkers with the shading until... “What do you think?”
Fantastic. Oh. Look at all those shadows! “Do another one.”
The next picture looks just as crisp, just as sharp. The Internet hardly has any black-and-white banners, so they’re sure to stand out.
I can’t stop smiling. “If during the Q&A Mr. Peterson asks me why we went with black-and-white, what will I tell him?”
“The truth?” Tom says.
That I was massaging my man with my front in plain view in a window overlooking downtown Brooklyn? “Mr. Peterson will have a heart attack. All those rib eyes.”
“We can just say we were inspired by the night sky of downtown Brooklyn.”
Better. “But you know I’ll be thinking of what we just did when you say it.” I put my hand in his. Those are some sweet contrasts, too. I turn into him, grinding my booty on his package. “I’ll repeat the question. Are we going to pull an all-nighter?”
“Shari Nance?”
Is this ... no. This is just horny talk. “Yes?”
“Shari Nance, would you care to watch the sunrise with me?”
That was sweet and sexy. “I’d love to watch the sunrise with you.” I focus on his eyes, so soft, so open, so uncluttered. “I love you, Tom. I really, really love you.”
“Thank you, Shari.” He holds me close. “I love you, too.”
He carries me to the bedroom and lays me on my side of the bed. “I think we’re going to need the ‘wall’ back up tonight,” he says.
I shake my head. “No.” My heart is about to escape my body and go bouncing through the window into downtown Brooklyn. “I don’t want a wall to come between me and my best friend.”
He blinks. “Are you sure, Shari?”
I sit up and remove my shirt and bra. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” I slide out of my pants, my underwear going along for the ride.
He wriggles out of his jeans and boxers. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.
I start to tear up. “I’ve never felt so beautiful, man. Come here.”
And then we ... make ... love. It’s quiet, slow, controlled, and even peaceful. Our lovemaking has a rhythm, slow, steady, and passionate. And when he hums in my ear, I whisper in his. When he nibbles on my ears, I chew on his shoulders. When he sighs, I giggle and groan. But when he drives deeply into me, I have to hold his hips from going too far. But eventually, I can’t stop him anymore, and I don’t want to stop him. I have to possess his entire body.

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