Chapter 38 Deliberate Texts #2
When he faces me again, he gives me a satisfied smirk. “Glad you approve.”
“So much I want to take it off you,” I whisper.
He slides a hand down his face, muttering, “I can’t take you anywhere.”
Corbin returned home last night, and since Charlotte went to Sarah’s house this morning, this is the first time I’ve seen him. Aisha is closing up Afternoon Delight, so it’s just us here in the city, shopping via private appointment at Ruiz and Sons on a fancy stretch of Union Street.
Corbin’s gaze drifts to the owner of the shop, who’s working on his computer on the other side of the store. A small Mexican flag sits in a cup next to the screen. The man is giving us space, it seems. Corbin grabs my hand and jerks me against his hard body. “You sure you like it?”
I arch a brow. “Is this a gift for me?” I rub up against the outline of his erection.
“Unwrap it.”
I gasp.
But he just shrugs, cocky, kind of challenging.
I’m not sure if he means it though, and I’m both flustered and entirely turned on. But there’s nothing to be done about it, so I clear my throat. “Try on the blue plaid suit I picked out.”
“Whatever you want, Firecracker,” he says, his eyes traveling over me like he’s very happy to see me, before he shuts the door to the dressing room.
I try to clear the lust from my head as I wander around, perusing ties and shirts while the man behind the counter glances up, his close-cropped hair catching the light of the chandelier overhead. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
“I’m all good, Mr. Ruiz.”
I return to Corbin as the dressing room door creaks open. He steps out, and wow.
“I love suits. I just do,” I say as I fan my face. The blue is rich, the pattern sharp, the fit perfect. All I want to do is push off the jacket, undo the buttons on the shirt, and strip off the pants.
He tilts his head, asking innocently, “Color gets you going?”
“Yes. It’s the color, Corbin,” I say, then fiddle with the lapels of the jacket even though I don’t need to. I just want to touch him. As I smooth them, his hands come down on mine, clasping them.
My breath hitches from the contact. From the strong press of his palms. And from the low, rumbly noise he makes.
I bite the corner of my lip.
His eyes blaze. They’re a darker shade of green than I’ve seen before. “You want me to get this suit?”
I nod. “This suit is a big yes. But so’s the wine-colored one.”
“I’m getting them because you like the way they look,” he says, his voice raspy, hungry.
“Don’t I feel special,” I say.
“You should. You’re the one I’ll be wearing them for.”
A hot shiver runs down my spine. He drops my hands and walks away from me, toward the owner.
Corbin stops at the register, tells the owner he’ll take the two suits, then lowers his voice so I can’t hear him. The owner nods, heads to the door and locks it, then retreats to the back of the shop, and…from the clicking sound growing fainter, it seems he heads upstairs.
My heart is beating so fast.
Cutting past mannequins and displays of jackets and shoes, Corbin strides to me.
“What did you just do?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know.
“I get all my suits from him. A lot of the guys do,” he says, not answering me directly. “Ramon’s a good guy. He’s giving us a little space.”
My pulse kicks. I ache everywhere. “So you missed me?”
Grabbing the hem of my shirt, he jerks me against him. “You know I missed you, Firecracker.”
Heat flares through me. “Show me how much.”
“Done.”
He tugs me into the dressing room, kicks the door closed, and spins me around. He pushes me against the wall, so I’m facing it. “Hands up.”
I press my palms against the wall as he hikes up my skirt and groans. “Your ass is perfect. Lift it higher.”
I raise my ass. He runs a hand over one cheek, then the other.
I shudder.
He sheds the suit jacket, tosses the tie over his shoulder, then bites down on my collarbone, sucking. I tremble.
Then the sound of his zipper being undone drifts past my ears and I gasp.
He tugs down my panties till they’re mid-thigh, then rubs the head of his cock against my wetness.
It feels too good to be real.
I roll my lips together, swallowing a gasp. I don’t need Mr. Ruiz to hear me, no matter where he is.
Grabbing my hip, Corbin murmurs, “This won’t last long.”
“I won’t either.”
He sinks into me, and we both groan as he fills me.
Then he’s off to the races, fucking me hard and fast, punching his hips, driving deep.
My fingers claw at the wall, trying to hold on.
He ropes an arm around my waist, jerks me even closer, then whispers hotly in my ear, “Fucking missed you so much.”
“Prove it,” I taunt.
He slides a hand down my belly, headed straight for my thighs, and rubs my clit till my vision blurs, my teeth clench, and I lose it.
A sharp, hot burst of pleasure rockets through me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
Seconds later, he jerks, shudders, then stills inside me.
As I pant, I kind of can’t believe we just fucked in the dressing room.
But I also can. Especially considering how we started back in October, when he pressed me up against a door in a trailer. This feels like the culmination of that.
Somehow, several minutes and a few tissues later, I’ve cleaned up and we’re at the counter with Corbin plunking down his credit card.
“Thanks for everything,” he says. “I really appreciate the customer service.”
I smother a laugh.
“We strive to make sure all your needs are met,” Mr. Ruiz says with a straight face, his mustache barely twitching.
I fight off another laugh, but impulsive me wins, since I blurt out, “Me too.”
We’re at Happy Cow in Hayes Valley, and I’m eating a quinoa bowl as Corbin slices a piece of salmon, then says, “I’m having a good season.”
It’s a bit out of nowhere, but I go with it. “You are.”
“I didn’t think I could manage it all. Charlotte, hockey, the business. Everything.”
I’m not sure where he’s going and if it’s someplace good or bad, so I just nod for him to keep talking.
“But I think when I stopped fighting my feelings, I was able to…relax on the ice. Have fun. Handle it all,” he says.
“Yeah?” I ask, feeling a little glowy.
“And you—you’re kicking ass at the bakery.”
I think of Dottie. Of the chess guys. Of Abe and even of Joni, who’s asked us about supplying cookies. And of my mother, and her request to cater the faculty event. “I am,” I say, and it feels good to admit that. But he’s played a huge part too, so I add, “Actually, we both are.”
“It’s mostly you making it happen, Mabel,” he says.
I couldn’t have done this without him though. His investment, yes. But also his faith in me. And his seriously delicious recipes. “You might be more behind the scenes, but we’re doing this together.”
“We’re good partners.” He sounds so certain, so unafraid. And once again, he has a calming effect on me. He takes another bite of his salmon, then a drink of water, before he asks, “How’s the bed?”
Something about the shift in topic amuses me. “Perfect,” I say.
“How were your holidays?”
“Good.”
“Will you go on a date with me? A real date.”
I freeze, fork midair. “You just asked me on a date?”
“I did.”
“We’re not just business partners with benefits?”
“We’re not.” It’s said decisively, brooking no argument. It’s hardly a question. It’s more like a decision. “This was a date today. You should date me again.”
Clearly, he’s not worried about balance. He just said as much. But still, I’ve got to know this one thing. “You’re not worried about us running a business together?”
He sets down his fork. “First of all, see above. The answer is no. So what do you say?”
He’s unrelenting in his pursuit of me.
I take a moment to catalogue my reaction—the rapid beat of my heart, the warmth in my skin, the smile on my face. “I say yes.”
He exhales, like he’s been waiting a while for this. “Good. We should finish this date with another letter. To mark the occasion.”
“Which occasion?” I tease. “A month in business? Or you asking me on our first date?”
He leans closer, his eyes holding mine, a small smile shifting his lips. “Both, Mabel. Both.”