4. Reese
CHAPTER 4
Reese
“I think I might like sushi after all,” Cory said, his chin tilted back so he could whisper up into my ear. I turned my head to the side and smiled down at him, tongue worrying a smear of soy sauce left in the corner of my mouth. His stare immediately darted to my lip, his nostrils flaring as I tucked my tongue away.
“The sushi or the sake?” I asked.
“Well.” Cory gave me a lazy smile. “Definitely not the whiskey.”
I huffed out an amused laugh, reaching for the bill before he could get his hands on it. But even though he was smaller than me in every way, he had catlike reflexes and had the leather tray in his hand before I could even get close.
“You’re a snob,” I told him. “But thank you for dinner.”
Cory dropped a shiny black credit card on top of the bill. “I should be thanking you. I would have considered sushi nothing better than gas station food if it weren’t for you.”
“I think that’s being generous.”
“I am,” he said, angling his entire body toward mine and lowering his voice. “I’m very generous, Reese. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I didn’t think we were talking about whiskey and who was paying the bill anymore.
“Maybe too generous,” I said softly, remembering he’d basically gotten me off to the point of unconsciousness in February.
“I don’t think there’s such a thing.”
Ruby was back with the slip for Cory to sign before I’d even realized she’d taken it, and then the two of us were in front of the restaurant, shivering slightly from the early spring breeze.
“I think it’s safe to assume I’m a sure thing,” Cory said, smiling up at me and crossing his arms in front of his chest to stay warm.
“Of course you are.” I wanted to reach for him, wrap him into my arms and smell him again.
We’d enjoyed dinner together, but it was the first time I’d seen him in a month and the sight of him was already triggering every kind of involuntary response I had. Cory meant skin and sweat and cum and a battle for power. He meant aching muscles and smooth skin and a complicated mess of feelings I’d still made no progress on unraveling. I’d talked with Morgan about it briefly, but she only ever gave me an amused sort of bobble-head smile whenever it came up, like she was privy to a secret just out of my reach.
“Are you going to invite me back to your place?” he asked.
I choked a little, taking half a step back. “Mine?”
Cory shrugged, trying to appear casual. “I’m happy to go back to the hotel if you’re aching for expensive sheets and room service.”
“It’s not that,” I said quickly, trying my best to backpedal. “I just…I assumed.”
“Is this your way of saying your place isn’t fit for company?” He cocked his head to the side. “Or do you have roommates?”
“Two people barely fit in my apartment for a weekend, let alone a long-term situation.” I winced as the words left my mouth, aware of how they must sound.
“Do you work tomorrow night?”
“At seven,” I answered.
Cory checked his watch. “Then we only need to worry about two people fitting in there for, say…sixteen hours at best.”
I exhaled heavily, reaching up to nervously rub the side of my nose. “It’s a mess.”
“I don’t mind.”
“My bed creaks.”
“I’ll apologize to your neighbors,” he said.
“As long as you don’t judge me over it,” I conceded.
“I’m very much going to judge you over it,” he said, gesturing toward the parking lot with his chin. “I can’t wait to see the real you.”
Any response to his statement felt too loaded for the parking lot of a sushi restaurant, so I kept the possibilities all to myself and fished in my pocket for my keys. If he wanted to know me by my apartment, he could also know me by my ten year-old car, which I unlocked on the way across the lot. Cory opened the passenger door before I could get it for him, and he was already buckled by the time I walked around to the driver’s side.
I turned the car on and Cory stretched out his legs, laughing a little to himself when my phone connected to the radio and started to blare some late-nineties punk bank he’d probably never heard of. My hand flew out and I twisted the knob to lower the volume, then backed out of the parking spot and headed toward home.
The prime curb space in front where Morgan was parked earlier was of course taken, and I ended up having to circle the block three times before I found a space. For his part, Cory didn’t seem at all bothered by the distance or the walk. He hummed beside me, hands shoved into his pockets as he looked around at the trees and the trash and the buildings.
“This is me,” I said when we reached the converted building where I’d lived for the past four years. There was an elevator I never used on account of it being ancient and terrifying, so I led Cory to the stairs. “It’s just up two flights.”
“I live in New York,” he reminded me.
“I bet your building has a doorman.”
“Of course it does, but you can't judge me over family money," he said. "I open plenty of my own doors, and I've made a name for myself from my own merit."
I made a curious sound at his comment as I shoved my key into the deadbolt.
“I open this one,” I said.
“Rightly so.”
I disengaged the deadbolt, twisted the knob, and let Cory into my apartment, hoping he didn’t hate whatever he found of me there.