Chapter 32
Hallie
James touched me like I was irreplaceable. His hands worshipped my body, mapping every inch as his mouth traced kisses over my collarbone, my neck, the slope of my shoulder.
I lay naked beneath him, and a hurricane of emotions was wreaking havoc within me. This wasn’t sex born out of pure physical desire. This was something else entirely. Something that threatened to explode from my chest with every scrape of teeth against skin.
But instead of trying to inspect those feelings from every angle until I understood what they meant, I surrendered to them.
From the moment I saw him like this—completely, beautifully bare—I had to swallow the surge of awe that rose in my throat. I’d never seen a more perfect man, and still, somehow, he wanted me. Me.
My fingers traced the gold chain he always wore and then spread across the tan skin of his chest. He finally lowered himself between my legs, careful not to press his weight against me as his forearms bracketed my head, muscles taut. Need filled every inch of me.
His mouth captured mine again, and the kiss unraveled what was left of my composure. I couldn’t get close enough. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in. I wanted to feel every part of him. Needed to.
Normally, this would be the moment when my insecurities screamed the loudest.
Was my stomach too soft?
Was I too heavy?
Would he be comparing me to other women who’d given him head before?
Were my boobs big enough?
Or were they too big?
But not with James.
He silenced all those fears without a word. I was completely free, so utterly lost in this moment, lost in him. I’d never felt more beautiful.
James reached into the nightstand. I watched as he carefully rolled the condom down over his erection, completely entranced. My eyes devoured him—the way the muscles in his stomach flexed, the tension in his arms, the veins in his hands. Everything about him was raw, real, utterly captivating.
He paused once more to give me a meaningful look, one last chance to bail out, just like he always did. I answered him with a firm kiss. No doubts. No second thoughts.
Then the only sounds filling the room were groans and gasps as James rocked into me.
“Holy fuck,” James cursed, his voice breaking as he buried his face into the curve of my neck.
I rolled my hips to meet him, our bodies falling into rhythm like we were made to move this way.
His hands fisted the sheets on either side of me, his signet ring flashing in the moonlight streaming in through the window.
The moment my fingers dug into his shoulders, something inside him shifted. As if James had been holding himself back all this time. His hands were everywhere, like he didn’t know where to touch first because he wanted to feel everything.
Buried in my hair.
Pulling on my chin to press a punishing kiss to my lips.
Squeezing my ass.
A flick across a nipple.
The sensations were nearly too much. James was a master at turning me into putty in his hands, so overwhelmed by his touch. When his fingers found my clit, I nearly shattered. A cry escaped me, ragged and needy.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Hal.”
He threw both of my legs up over his shoulders, giving him a better angle, and I couldn’t stop the way my body arched toward his. I gave myself over completely. I didn’t resist. I didn’t think. I just felt .
My moans grew desperate as pleasure built, hot and wild inside me. James noticed and picked up his pace. He moved faster, deeper, keeping his gaze locked on mine.
“God, Hal. You feel amazing,” he groaned.
And just like that, I came undone, the praise sending me over the edge. I broke into a million little pieces as James thrusted once more. His groans joining mine like the crescendo to a symphony.
He lowered my legs gently, letting them fall to the bed as he pressed his face against my chest. His six-foot-five body went soft against mine, no longer the towering man in charge of boardrooms. I threaded my fingers into his hair as my chest heaved up and down, trying to get air back into my lungs.
He pressed a few kisses to the space between my breasts.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his blue eyes meeting mine. “You know that, right?”
“I don’t know about that,” I drew out. It slipped out like muscle memory.
“Well, you should,” he whispered, capturing my chin in his hand and forcing me to look at him. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You’d never doubt just how beautiful you are for a single second.”
He kissed the tip of my nose and slowly pulled away. Air rushed between us, the cool breeze kissing my skin. I instantly missed the way his arms had made the world feel quiet for the first time in forever.
“Come on.” James offered me his hand once he’d removed the condom from his length. “Let’s take a shower.”
He scooped me up in his arm with a confidence that took my breath away.
I expected him to be strong, sure, but nothing prepared me for the way he lifted me like I weighed nothing at all, like carrying me wasn’t a strain but something he wanted to do.
My head dropped to his shoulder, a tired laugh bubbling up as my limbs went limp with exhaustion and a sated happiness.
“Got you,” James murmured, and I believed him in every sense of the word.
He took me through into the bathroom, flipping on the light with his elbow and nudging the glass shower door open with his foot. Steam began to curl into the air as he turned the water on, testing it with his hand until it was warm—just shy of hot.
He stepped into the wide marble shower, keeping me close to his chest as the water cascaded down his back.
Slowly, he set me down onto the built-in bench and crouched in front of me.
He reached for a bottle of body wash, pouring a little into his palm, then lathered it into a gentle foam before he began to cleanse me.
His hands moved gently, no teasing, no rush.
Just long, slow strokes down my arms, legs, and over my shoulders.
He paused now and then to kiss my damp skin, to meet my eyes with a burning desire.
When he leaned in and kissed my mouth—soft and steady, water strickling down our faces—it felt more like a promise than a kiss.
One that I didn’t know the words to yet, but I could feel the meaning of it all the way down to my bones.
He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against mine, and the water flowed around us.
Whatever promise he was making me, in that moment, I knew he was going to keep it.
“If I ever make my own blog with Roxie, I am going to have a ‘Food James Makes Me’ section. Just so I can review your food because, dear Lord. I don’t know how you do it.” I groaned as I took another bite of the Italian sub sandwich James had made me after our shower.
“Why don’t you do it?” he asked me as he reached over to steal a chip from me.
“Hey!” I swatted at his hand. “Get your own.”
“I ate mine,” he replied around a mouthful of food.
“Then go get more.”
James stood up to go grab the rest of the chips still on the kitchen counter. “Why don’t you do it?” he asked again, as he made his way back to me.
“Do what?”
“Start your own blog, your own company,” James offered. “Why not do it?”
“Honestly,” I told him, “I’ve been asking myself the same question in recent weeks.
I’ve been going back and forth on it. I leaned that way recently.
But with this week’s turn of events and Anthea’s offer for me to write the piece on The Social Eatery, I think it would be stupid if I don’t see the opportunity through. ”
James tilted his head from side to side. “Maybe. But maybe you should consider that you were nothing but upfront with your wants and desires with Anthea. You entered this entire agreement in good faith, yet she’s gone back on that good faith by potentially taking that away from you.”
The air hung heavy as James’s words sunk in.
“If one door closes, another one opens.” James leaned over to flick the tip of my nose. But not before he snagged another chip off my plate despite the open bag he now had.
“Hey!” I grabbed for the chip bag, but James held it out of my reach.
“Not until you finish your article. You still have to write about how amazing Mr. Old Fashioned is and how he brought you home to his family.”
This time, I grabbed the closest pillow to me and sent it flying in his direction.
He batted it away with ease, a smug look on his face. “Does this make us like The Bachelor ? Did we just do a hometown date?”
“You’re really full of it tonight, aren’t you.” I moved to straddle him, chips and sandwich forgotten. But he only pushed me back into my spot on the couch before placing my computer in my lap.
“No. No touchy until you’re done.” James reached over to my discarded plate to steal another chip.
“You really have to stop doing that.”
I rolled my eyes at him but followed his direction.
The words flowed out of me faster than nearly any other article I’d written for “Love on Wall Street”.
Between the food, the company, and the patriarch of the Rossi family, I had more than enough to work with.
I described a family-owned restaurant built on the foundation of the American Dream.
Hardworking folks that had a gift for flavors and creating a memorable evening.
It was exactly what James had described—the perfect place for tourists to have a true New York City experience.
This article, paired with the blog post that Roxie and I would do, would provide enough press to spark some fresh interest in the pizzeria.
By the time James finished his sandwich—and mine—I was ready to send the piece off to Anthea, feeling proud for the first time of one of these Wall Street articles.
I let her know how sentimental this article was.
How great the evening was. How amazing Mr. Old Fashioned’s family was.
I even added for her benefit—I told myself, at least—that this felt like a serious step in our relationship. A meaningful one.
My finger hesitated over the mousepad, daring myself to back out now.
To keep this one to myself and tell Anthea I’d changed my mind.
Maybe the Hallie from a few months ago would have caved under the pressure, but I was just beginning to learn about this new me .
Someone that wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted.
I was teetering on the precipice of before and after.
Before I became a food critic and after .
My finger pressed down into my mousepad, and I watched my email to Anthea disappear into the ether.
Some of the weight I’d been carrying since the moment I realized I had no clue where to start for this series lifted off my chest, flying away with the email.
All I needed was to get out of my head and without James, I’m not sure I would have achieved that in time.
Maybe eventually, but I would have let that insidious voice in my mind win.
It was too easy to fall victim to its words. Or let it steal all of mine.
But not this time.
“Done,” I announced as I closed my laptop. “What’s my reward?” I was trying my best not to focus too hard on the panic starting to settle in.
What if she didn’t like it?
What if she changed her mind?
What if all of this was for nothing?
James offered me the chip bag.
“I was thinking,” I drew out as I rolled over on top of him, one thigh on either side of his, looking for the perfect distraction. “Something else?”
James’s arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me down on his erection. Heat pooled in my core as I ground my hips down on him. He dropped his head back against the couch. His fingers dug into my hips.
“Round two?” I leaned in to whisper in his ear.
His hand wound its way into my hair and yanked it back, exposing my neck. Those baby blues were an endless ocean for me to get lost in. “This is a pretty big house. With a lot of rooms for us to try out. I think we have our work cut out for us.”
This time when I kissed him, I sunk my teeth into his bottom lip. “Then we better get started.”