Chapter Thirty-Four – Verity
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
VERITY
I snuggle closer to the warm body, looping my arms around his bicep and curling like a koala. A warm buzz fills my chest, like fluffy bumblebees crowding around a new bloom in the early spring. This emotion within me is new and special, one that I want to protect at all costs.
Until reality comes crashing down.
My eyes pop open, panic slicing my veins with a gasp.
“Ohmigod, what time is it?”
I scramble, eliciting a groan from Cullen as I flick my head around his room in search of an alarm clock. The man does not seem to have one. God damn it. I need a phone. Where the hell is my phone?
I get all tangled in the sheets, trying to escape the bed. Cullen’s thick arms circle my waist and tug me back against him. I grasp his hands with my own and try to pry him off me.
“Cullen, this is serious. I can’t be late for work.”
This is why I don’t go out on Thursdays. I honestly have no clue how Hannah does this on the regular. I am beyond stressed right now.
“Shh, calm down. It’s fine.” He pulls me in tighter. “Vada, what time is it?”
There is a small chime before an electronic voice responds.
“The time is six forty-three.”
Oh.
“See, plenty of time before you need to rush out of here.”
Plenty is a bit of a stretch. I probably have around forty minutes until I have to leave. Actually, I don’t even know where we are right now. We are a couple of blocks from the restaurant, I know that much. Dammit, I really need my phone.
“Cullen, let me up. I have to find my phone.”
“Why?” He places a kiss where my collarbone meets my shoulder.
“Because I need to check the train schedule.”
“Why?” He continues to pepper little kisses on my neck, dizzying the thoughts I’m trying to gather.
“Because I need to go home and get ready before work.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t show up to work in a red mini dress and without my laptop.”
“There’s a department store down the street; we can buy you new clothes.”
His hand nudges lower, skating over my skin with heat as he trails down to my pussy. A pulse runs through me, alighting fresh need. Memories of last night start to trickle back, prompting slick to gather.
I try to keep my wits about me.
“Doesn’t fix the laptop issue.”
“I’ll buy you one of those as well.”
“Yeah, sorry, stud. Not how that works.”
“Is that really what you want to focus on right now? Because I can think of much better things.”
He slips his hands between us, teasing my already wet folds. There’s a small short circuit of my brain before I’m able to get it back online and try to squirm away.
“Cullen, I can’t be late.”
“Then you better stop squirming and spread those legs.”
His fingers push inside, and my desire takes over. My body goes lax as he shifts down the bed and hooks my legs over his shoulders. The flat of his tongue licks a deft line up my pussy, sparking my clit as he gives it a suck.
I try to remind myself that I don’t necessarily have the time to be doing this, that I need to trek all the way back uptown to grab all my stuff before dragging myself all the way back over here to head into the office. But logic doesn’t really seem to be my friend right now.
I lose myself to the pleasure as Cullen eats me out with the hunger of a starving man. His stubble grazes my soft skin, prickling it. My body is still sore from last night, thighs sensitive from the relentless pounding, but it just makes me smile.
My hands thread in his hair, grasping at his brown locks as he brings me closer and closer to that holy place. When I finally ascend, my orgasm bursting out of me, Cullen laps it up with a groan.
God, I could hear that man moan for days and never be sick of it. I would turn it into my text alert if it wouldn’t get me into trouble.
I lie in a state of orgasmic bliss, spread out on the soft sheets as Cullen kisses my inner thigh.
“Now, wasn’t that a better way to start your morning?”
“Mhm.”
He picks me up and carries me into his large en suite bathroom, stepping over the dirty sheets from last night that are still haphazardly thrown in the corner. After I soaked through them, he’d tossed them off and replaced them while I was in the shower.
Cullen places me on the counter next to the sink and grabs a washcloth before dousing it with warm water and cleaning my sensitive skin. I stare at him dreamily, wondering how I lucked out.
I also wonder how I settled for such crappy men in the past. I can’t think of one other time when a guy took such good care of me. There was one guy in college who used his T-shirt to clean his cum off my stomach, but he didn’t even offer me a shower before promptly falling asleep.
“Here.”
Cullen hands me a cup of mouthwash before starting up his own electric toothbrush.
I swish the blue minty liquid around a few times before spitting it in the sink.
I have enough strength back in my legs to slip off the counter and stand next to him.
We move about in pleasant silence as I wash my face with the limited skin-care products he owns.
I’m still fully aware that while Cullen has tugged on a pair of navy-blue boxers, I am totally naked. I pad out of the bathroom in search of my clothes, which are strewn all over the bedroom. I finally have a chance to fully take in his place, with the bright light of the morning streaming in.
His bedroom alone has to be the size of Hannah’s and my entire apartment.
It’s pretty minimalistic overall, made up mostly with dark tones of blacks, grays, and blues.
There are files strewn on a desk in the corner, and his work backpack is on the ground next to it.
A shirt is thrown over the back of the desk chair, my underwear somehow having landed there as well.
The walls are plain, and there doesn’t seem to be much of a personal touch anywhere.
I know he only recently moved in a few weeks ago, but it feels like it could use at least a picture or two.
I end up bypassing my dress for his shirt, tugging my arms into the sleeves.
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I pad out of his room into the main body of the apartment.
There is a warmer feel out here, but it still holds that modern, rich feel.
It’s an open layout, the kitchen area bleeding into the living area.
It’s the type of place you see in those fancy magazines, decked out with marble countertops and large windows.
A charcoal L-shaped couch, with a large, knitted blanket thrown over the back, rests on top of a cream rug.
In front of the couch sits a coffee table, laid before a stupidly large mounted TV that takes center stage.
Below the television is a long, skinny set of drawers, which have a few photo frames plus a video game console on top.
I recognize some of the people in the pictures instantly.
Cullen and Chloe smiling in front of the Taj Mahal, another of Cullen, Chloe, and Bridget in the snow, one of what looks to be Cullen in college with Sonny and two men I don’t recognize, and a family photo of who I assume is Cullen as a child.
Something tells me that he didn’t have a hand in picking these out, and I smile at the idea of his sister or Bridget fussing around and trying to make his place feel a little homier. I don’t know either of the two women well, but Cullen cherishes them both.
A tall potted plant takes root in the corner, with an equally tall and obviously expensive lamp beside it. It’s there that I spot my purse—or more precisely, Hannah’s purse.
I rush to it and pull out my phone which is, as I suspected, on three percent battery. Not even a second later, the screen turns black, dying. I cluck my tongue, deciding to go in search of a charger.
I really wish I’d thought about this last night.
I spot a cord plugged into a very fancy coffee machine next to his stove. I get my phone charging before eying the contraption.
A pair of warm hands circles my waist and lies against the soft flesh at my hips. Cullen drops a kiss on the crown of my head.
“Seeing you in my shirt has me wanting to bend you over that island and fuck you all over again.”
My thighs squeeze together, but I angle my head to the side and cock a brow.
“Not happening.”
“Coffee, then?”
“Sure.”
He lets me go and I step to the side, resting my hip on the marble countertop as I watch him place a pod in the machine.
He’s forgone a shirt, wearing just a pair of black slacks.
Girls normally say that there’s nothing sexier than a guy in sweatpants, but I really think the truth of the matter is that there is nothing sexier than a guy when he is shirtless.
His dark hair is still a little wet at the nape of his neck, but he’s styled it so the long hair on top is slicked back in that classic Ivy League way he normally does.
Some primal part of me wants to nuzzle my cheek along his stubble and inhale the cologne he has just spritzed on.
My phone buzzes, stopping me from doing so.
I palm the device, inputting my code before checking my notifications.
There is nothing glaringly obvious that needs my attention, thankfully, so I switch to Hannah’s contact and check to see where she is.
She typically works from home for the first few hours on Fridays, the only reprieve she really allows herself.
The map shows her at our apartment, but it also shows me where I am in respect to her location.
My brows furrow.
Little puzzle pieces start to slot into place, but the picture that is forming has me slightly confused. I click out of the app and check my map instead, zooming in on my location and its surroundings. The realization starts to take root.
I slam my phone back on the countertop and sprint to the large floor-to-ceiling windows, plastering myself against the glass as I stare outside.
Mother. Fucker.
There, in the distance, is the very same building I spend half my work meetings staring at.
“Enjoying the view?”
Cullen joins me and hands me a small coffee cup.
I accept it with narrowed eyes.
“This is where you live?”
“Yeah.” He takes a sip from his mug.
“No, like this apartment complex is where you sleep every night and wake up every morning.”
“Yeah, I moved in a few weeks back. Didn’t I mention it to you?”
“You did.”
“Then why are you frowning?” He rubs the tense skin between my brows.
“Because this is nowhere near where I live.”
“And?”
“And it’s, what, two stops from where I work?”
“Sounds about right.”
“Two stops in the opposite direction.”
“All right. Any other geographic facts you want to tell me?”
He grins at me, and I place a hand on my hip.
“Cullen, I’m being serious. Have you literally been taking the subway every single morning past your work an additional, like, eight stops, just to ride the train the entire way back with me?”
“Yes.”
My mouth gapes open, all my words lost to the ease with which he just answered me.
“What is wrong with you?”
“What’s the issue?”
“What’s the—really? Why would you go through all that effort? You are basically turning a ten-minute commute into an hour! Not to mention how much extra time you spend picking up the pastries or the coffee or—”
“Most of those places are near here. We can actually stop by that coffee place you really like if you want—the one with the pistachio praline drink. Way better than these pods.”
“Cullen,” I whine.
“Verity,” he teases back. He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “I wanted to spend the extra time with you. I only have so many minutes in the day; any I can spare for you are worth it.”
“But—”
“Plus, you weren’t speaking to me, if you remember. I had to find some way to break down your walls.”
A prickle of guilt purses my lips. I feel like an ass now. There I was, giving him the silent treatment for two weeks, when this man was hauling his ass all the way uptown to sit with me every single day on the subway when it was totally out of his way.
“Don’t make that face.” His thumb rubs the skin where my jaw meets my ear. “I like commuting with you. I like spending time with you. I like you.”
“I like you, too. I guess.” I whisper the words, shyness heating up my cheeks.
Cullen chuckles, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.
Everything in this moment is perfect, except…
My phone alarm goes off, blaring into the moment. Cullen and I both jerk at the noise, and I once again remember the panic from an hour ago.
Crap, work.