Chapter 6
When in doubt, rub one out
April
Alex
It’s been a rough few days at the office since Katie had emergency surgery to remove her appendix. Amelia has had to go down to the HR office to help with one thing after another. Knowing she’s not right outside my door all the time has me feeling off. Agitated. Lonely.
My car pulls up in front of Katie’s apartment building and I step out into the crisp spring air with a box of cream cheese pastries in my hand. Upstairs, I knock on her door and prepare to wait since she’s still recovering. To my surprise, it swings open just a few seconds later.
But it’s not Katie who answers the door.
“Alex!” Amelia says breathlessly, her eyes wide. Almost instantly, my anxiety melts away as her energy wraps around me.
I’ve rarely seen her in anything other than office attire, albeit sometimes casual office attire.
I take in this version of her, hoping like hell she doesn’t look down because she’s absolutely perfect in yoga pants and a tank top, and my cock immediately takes notice.
She left the office early today for a physical therapy appointment and must have gone home to shower and change before coming here.
There’s no makeup on her face. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a wild, messy bun with wispy curls falling around her face.
“What are you doing here?”
Blinking, I try to shake myself out of the lust haze I’m in. “I, uh, wanted to check on Katie and bring her some danishes. What are you doing here, Amelia?”
“Oh, I made Katie dinner.” She smiles shyly and moves out of the doorway. “Come on in.”
I step inside and wait for Amelia to close the door.
When she turns away, I see a tattoo in the center of her back: a dancer posed with her arms up and music notes flowing from her hands toward her neck.
It’s beautifully detailed and looks like a watercolor painting.
I had no idea she had a tattoo, but somehow I’m not completely surprised. And it feels exactly right for her.
I follow her into the living room, where Katie sits in a recliner.
“Look who I found at your door,” Amelia tells Katie as we walk into the living room.
Katie grins, more relaxed than normal. “Alex! I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay and see if you needed anything. I know you said you didn’t, but you’re too much like me sometimes.”
“Oh, you mean stubborn? Yeah, I suppose I am. But Amelia’s been coming by every day after work and bringing me dinner, making sure I have leftovers for lunch the next day, and binge-watching The Bachelor with me without complaint.”
I glance at Amelia. I didn’t realize she was visiting Katie every day, but maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.
Amelia laughs and shakes her head. “That’s not true. I’ve complained a lot. I stole the remote from you last night when I couldn’t handle that shit anymore.”
“Yeah, but then you put on that show with the hot duke, so I forgive you,” Katie says with a grin.
Amelia rolls her eyes with a smile as she turns to me. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“No.”
“Sit. I’ll bring you food and take the danishes to the kitchen.”
I hand her the box and remove my coat and suit jacket before taking a seat on the couch.
Amelia’s back with a plate of lasagna, a couple of breadsticks, and a glass of wine in a minute.
“You can either use the coffee table like a heathen or a tray table that I’m pretty sure is from the sixties and is being held together with electrical tape and luck,” she says with a smirk.
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my tray table!” Katie insists.
I chuckle. “Not worth the risk. The coffee table is fine.”
Amelia places the food and wine in front of me and then sits on the other side of the couch, tucking her legs under her and sipping from her own glass.
Just as I’m about to dig in, she leans close and flips my tie over my shoulder.
She knows better than anyone that I get food on myself at least once a week.
After a few bites, I look at Amelia. “This is fantastic.”
“Thanks. It’s just lasagna. I could make it in my sleep by the time I was ten,” she says with a shrug, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. She always has a hard time taking a compliment.
“Okay, time for more roses.” Katie starts her show while Amelia groans and I laugh.
Amelia can’t watch in silence, which I find endlessly amusing.
“No, don’t give her a rose, you dipshit. God, he’s totally choosing tits over personality.”
“Those are some nice tits, though,” Katie says wistfully. I’m pretty sure she’s on pain meds.
“So? He’s rich. I know because he tells us ten times per episode. He could pick a girl with a decent personality and then buy her new tits if she wants some. He can’t buy Tits McGee a new personality!”
Katie cackles. “I love watching this show with you.”
Amelia glares at her. “Because you’re mean. Okay, who wants a Danish? I can’t watch him kick off the only girl I even kind of like.”
She jumps to her feet and leaves the room. My gaze follows.
Katie clears her throat. “You ever going to make your move, Alex?”
“What?” I swivel my head to stare at her—eyes wide, mouth agape.
She grins at me like she just won something. “You’ve been in love with Amelia since the first day she showed up at the office. And she’s not going to wait around forever, you know?”
Shit.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie. But Katie’s not buying it. She opens her mouth but shuts it when Amelia walks back in with three small plates of danishes.
She gestures at the TV, where the woman with the good personality and small boobs is giving her exit interview.
“See? Now, who the hell am I supposed to root for in this stupid show?” When the episode is finished, Katie asks Amelia to put on the ‘hot duke show,’ and I help bring the dirty dishes into the kitchen.
“So this is after-hours Amelia,” I say with a smile. She smirks as she rinses the plates and loads them into the dishwasher.
“Yep. She’s not as put together as on-the-clock Amelia, and she’s louder, too.”
“On-the-clock-Amelia isn’t exactly quiet,” I tease.
“True. But her hair is so much nicer.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. I kind of like the bird nest thing you’ve got going on.”
She flicks her fingers at me, sprinkling water on my face.
I wipe my sleeve across my cheek. “Well, we know which one of you is more mature.”
Chuckling, she steps closer to me and grabs a towel hanging nearby.
It’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands off of her, but I have to. I don’t want to fuck up what we have. My dick is trying to take over and my brain is turning to mush as I try to shift my focus.
“You have a tattoo,” I blurt out. I feel my cheeks heat. Jesus, I’m blushing like a freaking teenager.
She leans a hip against the counter and crosses her arms, a smirk on her face. “What makes you think I only have one?”
I shift slightly, hoping it’s not noticeable that I’m now imagining just where she might be hiding those tattoos. “I didn’t realize you were such a rebel, Amelia.”
“Oh, such a rebel with my dance tattoos that you can’t see in office attire,” she quips.
Stop picturing it, asshole! Swallowing thickly, I say, “I always wanted some, but let the ‘business professional’ bullshit stop me.”
“If you know it’s bullshit, why let it stop you? Especially since no one there ever sees anything more than your hands and face. Lots of hidden real estate.”
“Sometimes I roll my sleeves up when we have late nights,” I say defensively.
“Well, if I saw a tattoo or two on your arms, I wouldn’t out you in meetings, I promise.
” She pinches the material at my wrist for a fraction of a second before letting go, cheeks flushed.
But she doesn’t move away. Neither do I.
“I can’t even begin to guess what you’d get if you let yourself,” she says.
The first thing that pops into my head is her name, but I’m not telling her that, so I just shrug and lie. “That’s probably a big factor in why I don’t have any. I’m not really sure what I would get.”
“When you find it, you’ll know.”
“Is that what happened with your dancer?”
“Pretty much. I was looking for dance art online and fell in love with it. My cousin’s a tattoo artist. She tweaked it for me, added the music notes, and reworked the colors.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks darken as she blinks up at me. “I, uh… I should be getting home. Katie usually crashes not long after dinner.”
“Let me give you a ride home.”
“You don’t have to do that, Alex.”
“It’s dark, and you know I hate when you take public transportation after dark.”
The corner of her lip raises. “You hate when I take public transportation in broad daylight.”
My chin dips. “Yes, yes, I do.”
“Okay, fine.” She brushes past me on her way back to the living room, and I take a deep breath before following her. “Katie, do you need help getting into bed before I head out?”
“No, I’m fine. Make Alex give you a ride in that fancy car he has drive him around.”
Amelia laughs. “Don’t worry, he’s already offered. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“What are you making for dinner tomorrow night?” Katie asks.
“I was thinking chicken enchiladas.”
“Oh yes, please. Alex, you should come back for dinner tomorrow.” Katie smirks and winks at me when Amelia isn’t looking.
“Who can resist an invitation like that?” I ask.
“Night, Katie. I’ll lock the door behind me.”
Amelia pulls on her coat and grabs her purse. I hold open every door I can for her until we’re in the back of the car.
“Oh, help me remember to update the calendar tomorrow,” I say as the driver pulls away from the curb. “I’m taking a couple days off in August, too. Just toward the end of your vacation, if I remember correctly.”
Amelia pulls out her phone. “I can do it now. You always forget that there’s an app for it, which is ridiculous considering your company created it. What days?”
“I think the eighth and ninth. I have a wedding to attend as well.”
“Okay, I added it. You should be able to see it on yours now. If you ever remembered to check it, that is. Who’s getting married?”
“My daughter.”
She looks up from her phone. “Oh, that’s big news, Alex.”
“Well, part of me keeps expecting her to cancel the whole thing. But she hasn’t, so it’s time to put it on the calendar, even though I don’t know the groom. If she’s happy, that’s all that matters, right?”
“I guess.” The look on her face doesn’t match her words. “But I’m kind of hating wedding shit right now, so I’m probably not the best person to give an opinion on it.”
“Bean’s mom being a pain in the ass again?”
She rolls her eyes. “Always. The latest fight is about the food options. Next week, I’m sure it’ll be the cake or napkins or my dress again.”
“Have they still not picked a damn dress for you?” She really did wear red the day after her friend got engaged, and then pink the next, in an attempt to prove that they clash with her hair. I thought she looked beautiful in both.
“Oh, they did. But it’s been changed three times already. The latest is actually a really pretty blue that I’m hoping sticks.”
“I love blue. Fingers crossed. Toes, too.”
She laughs and tucks her arm through mine. She’s only done that a few times, but it always makes my heart race.
“I swear, no one else ever believes me about you being a goofball.”
“You bring it out in me.”
“Someone has to. It’s just simmering there under the surface, waiting to be unleashed.”
Fuck, that’s not the only thing waiting to be unleashed. It’s taken tremendous effort to keep my dick under control all night, and with her touching me, it’s a fucking battle.
When we stop in front of her building, I help her out of the car and then walk her to her door.
“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you in the morning.” She stretches up onto her tiptoes and kisses my cheek before disappearing into her apartment as her own cheeks darken.
She’s never done that before. I lightly touch my fingertips to where her lips pressed against my skin for just a moment, sealing the invisible mark there permanently like my own secret tattoo.
I always have to talk myself out of following her in, but tonight, I almost throw all caution aside. It takes far more effort than normal to turn and walk away.
Like most nights I spend around Amelia, when I get home, I head straight for the shower.
Cold water doesn’t do shit anymore. I’m painfully hard by the time I step under the spray because I can’t get that kiss on the cheek, her perfectly messy hair, her sparkling blue eyes, and now that tattoo out of my head.
I stroke my cock, imagining it’s her hand doing so, hearing her say my name breathlessly like she did when she first saw me tonight, over and over as she orgasms. I drop my head back and come all over the shower wall, yelling her name louder than I ever have before.
It barely takes the edge off.