Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Robbie: Happy Birthday JoJo!
Camila: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SPARKLING LITTLE SUN BOMB I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BEST DAY EVER IN BARCELONA! By the way I may have bribed Inez from IT to lock you out of your email for 24 hours sorry not sorry!
Mom: Happy birthday darling, I’ve sent you several articles via email on Barcelona crime
Dad: Happy birthday JoJo!
Biker Gang:
Gio: Happy birthday J! Hope you get a bike ride in today 3
Leonie: omg josie happy bday lovebug
True to her word, Camila managed to bar me from my own email account. I’m fixing the Outlook app with a stern look, willing it to let me through, when a knock sounds at my hotel room door.
“Happy birthday!” Will says as soon as I pull it open.
“Camila locked me out of my work email,” I complain.
His bright smile melts into a diluted smirk. “Camila’s a genius.”
“That was never under review, but now her loyalties certainly are.”
“Josephine,” he scolds. “Today is a Saturday.”
“Retail’s busiest day of the week!” I reason.
Will grabs my phone from my flailing hand and stuffs it into the front pocket of his jeans. He’s back in street attire today, though without his baseball cap, which I kind of miss.
“What do you want to do today?” he asks.
I grin. “How pissed would you be if I said a hotel gym workout followed by a room service feast while we watch my CEO classes online?”
He gives me a put-upon look, still not breaching the doorway to my room. “I’d say it’s your birthday, and let’s do it.”
I consider him, crossing my arms over my pajama-clad chest. Part of me wants to see if he’d go through with it. Waste an entire Saturday in this beautiful city in a hotel room with me.
“You’d get stir-crazy.”
“Not necessarily.” Will shakes his head, very slow. “We could absolutely keep ourselves occupied in this hotel room. All day.”
My body flushes, all the exposed parts of my skin heating at his implication. His darkening Blue Ridge Mountain eyes fix on my body, which is covered by only a pair of tiny silk shorts and a thin tank top. He presses his lips together, hands resting on each of his hips as he forces his eyes up to mine.
I don’t—fully—
I’m not exactly sure how it happens—
There’s a time slip, if I had to guess—
Because one minute, Will is looking at me with a dare in his eyes, and the next, I wind up airborne, my legs wrapped around his waist as his arms support my weight, and we’re kissing against the doorframe of my room.
Finally, finally, finally.
They aren’t frantic, our first kisses. Our mouths have no trouble connecting, and Will doesn’t struggle to hold me aloft. He pins me easily, just the way he wants me, his toe wedged between the door and the frame to keep us from being locked out. I loop my hands into his plush hair and pull his face toward mine.
Lightly, Will groans into my mouth as his lips pinch and pull and tug harshly against mine. I feel the vibration of that sound travel down into my stomach, then go off there like a bomb. His lips tease, taste, slow and then slower and then slower, like he’s winding himself down, even as his hips push forward into mine, creating our hinge point.
This is where our bodies join, the hinge point informs me. Move the rest of your body all you want, just stay connected here. Even as his teeth pinch my lips but don’t bite them, even as his groans go softer, smaller, like he’s trying to stop making audible noises of pleasure but can’t quite manage it, I focus on the place we aren’t supposed to separate just as Will inches back.
“Wait,” he says, breath labored. “Josephine. Sweetheart. Are you absolutely certain you want this?”
“It’s my birthday,” I reply, voice wobbling. “Please.”
Something dark flashes in his eyes, and his lips come back to mine. Tender and gentle, methodical, unhurried.
This is him holding back, I realize. He’s giving me time to readjust to the way it’s supposed to feel with a partner.
But I’ve never felt like this with a partner, and I don’t know how to process that. I’ve never felt so in tune, so physically matched to someone. His thumbnail scrapes lightly across the back side of my thigh, and what that really means is he just decided it’s where I’ll get a tattoo that reads Will Grant was here. His nose brushes back and forth against mine while we take a minute to catch our breath, hips rocking, and what that really means is Here’s your permission to breathe, Josephine. From now on, it’s mine to give, mine to take back.
He takes it back, closing the gap between our mouths once more while my back arches and our stomachs inhale and exhale against each other.
The ding of the elevator somewhere around a hallway corner is what finally makes him carry me inside. My ass lands on the desk and the door latches closed. His hands start roving, up and down my sides, into my hair, thumbs on my cheeks, my temples. His lips by my ear, teeth tugging on my earlobe.
Will’s left hand pushes just so on my shoulder until my upper half is horizontally spread across the desk. His body bends over mine like a magnet. He’s standing between my legs, which are limply spread to fit him, and his hair falls over his eyes as he gazes down at me with those blue eyes brown hair, brown hair blue eyes, and I am literally about to die.
I’m going to perish.
I’m two seconds from passing away.
“You’re so hot,” I blurt.
Will laughs hoarsely. He leans on one arm, causing his triceps to bulge. With his other hand, he cups the side of my face and traces my lower lip with his thumb, pinching at it, mesmerized by it. “ You’re so hot. Fucking look at you, J. Swollen lips, bright red. I think it’s prettier than any lipstick you’ve ever worn.”
He kisses me again, still laughing softly, deep in his throat. His hands slide over my stomach, across the bare skin where my pajama top rode up. “Can I take all your clothes off and touch wherever I want on your body?”
I’m not even joking about it this time.
I’m not being facetious.
I literally come. And it’s coupled with a gasp that sort of very obviously lets him know what just happened and I am truly going to DIE—
“Did you just…” His hand on my stomach settles there, more heavily, as he watches me try to hold still all the way through it. I blush and say nothing, go rigid as a statue.
When I won’t meet his eyes, he gently grabs my chin until our gazes finally lock. “You are the end of everything for me,” he says, his voice drawn out and strung up and pummeled and ruinous. “How many times do you think I can get you to do that?”
“But the Spanish architecture!” I gasp.
“Funny thing about buildings.” His head drops to the space between my breasts. “They don’t go anywhere.”
“I want to,” I say on a sigh, my eyes fluttering closed as he kisses just above the lacy border of my top.
“Me, too, J. It’s actually all I want—”
“I want to look at buildings with you.”
Will pauses. “I thought you wanted a hotel workout,” he mumbles against my skin.
“Hang on.” Will’s body lifts off mine as he pushes against his palms, and our eyes catch. “I like this,” I say. “I want this. But my body isn’t used to it. Not just sex, but, like, kissing. And being turned on. My body isn’t used to being this turned on.”
“I know. I love it,” he emphasizes.
“I need…”
His lips settle against my forehead. “Tell me exactly what you need, Josie.”
I take a deep breath in, filling my lungs with his heady scent. “I need to go look at buildings with you. To give myself time to… calm down. It isn’t that I don’t want this. But I want to be good at it when we do it.”
“You want to be good?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t need you to be anything—”
“Please, Will. I want to be in it with you.”
He tucks his head and breathes. Breathes some more.
“Okay,” he whispers after a few seconds. There’s nothing resentful in his tone. Just a calmness that almost feels anticipatory. “Let’s go look at some buildings.”
He takes a step back from the desk, adjusting himself in his pants. I sit up, hands pulling my top down to meet the waistband of my shorts. “I need ten minutes to get ready,” I say, finding my footing against the carpeted floor.
Will nods, his eyes a sky-bright color. The evidence of my hands in his hair is blatant, but it works on him.
“I’ll wait in the lobby.”
He turns to go, but something makes me say, “Wait.”
Will twists back, his gaze patient.
“I’m not using you. This isn’t just about wanting to have sex.”
Will’s expression warms. He smiles easily, both of his dimples flashing, his kiss-bruised lips pulled up. “What’s it about, in that case?”
It’s hard to put into words, but I try. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. About dating distracting me from work or having a partner causing me to be less productive. Aren’t people stronger together? Better versions of themselves around another person? I mean, Camila is a hard worker, and she’s productive, and she’s also in love,” I say. “Not that I’m in love with you!” I jump to add. “And not that I’m assuming you’d ever want to actually be my, like, official partner, I’m just explaining why I—”
Will crosses back to me, his lips taking mine again in another long, slow kiss.
“For the record,” he grunts, landing two small kisses on my nose. “I would very much want to be your official partner. The truth is I’ve been disguising the way I feel about you as best as I can. But I’ll stop that now. If you want.”
His words launch an avalanche. They create waves. They crack earth.
I cling to him, rubbing my nose against his soft shirt. “I want.”
Will tips my chin up and kisses me. Softly, softly. I feel positively lost in him, happier and more carefree than I’ve felt in a long time. “I am happiest,” he says, “when I’m giving you what you want.”
I change into jean shorts and a T-shirt, braid my hair, splash cold water on my face. When I get downstairs to the hotel lobby, I spot Will talking to the concierge.
He looks down at my feet when he notices me. “Closed-toe shoes. Perfect.”
“For?”
“Cycling.” Will grins and nods to the concierge. “I rented us some bikes.”
I grin back, feeling giddy.
Outside, we climb onto two cornflower-blue cruisers with wide handlebars and kickstands, our reusable water bottles filled, helmets firmly secured. Our hotel is on the outskirts of the city, close to the supplier we’ll be visiting in two days. We find the bike lane on a busy street and ride it into the heart of downtown.
The first place we stop is a small café with a faded red awning and a Tripadvisor sign in the window. Will locks up our bikes and pays for my drink—sadly not an ICOML, which wasn’t on the menu, but instead (on his recommendation) a café con leche that’s honestly delicious.
While we sip our beverages at an outdoor table, the sun still shy, the air scented with fried dough, his hands find mine. Will’s fingers lightly graze back and forth across my knuckles.
It’s such an intimate gesture. Possibly the most intimate thing we’ve done so far. My breath tightens.
“You said your body isn’t used to it,” Will murmurs, a quick smile flitting across his mouth. “I’m going to remind you, all day long.”
My body warms. I feel combustible. “How used to it are you ?”
“Are you asking for my body count?” He hitches a brow.
I shrug. “You don’t have to get specific, but—”
“I dated thoroughly, in Manhattan,” Will says.
“Thoroughly,” I repeat.
His thumbs continue their pattern across my knuckles. “Yeah. But it’s been a while. Five months, maybe. And not that I—” He flushes. Clears his throat. But his tiny caresses never stop. “Not that I’m expecting anything tonight. But in case you were concerned, I’ve been tested since the last person I’ve been with.”
“Same,” I reply, blushing now, too, even though I’m relieved we’re having this entirely necessary conversation. “But Will, I just realized. I’m not on birth control anymore.”
His eyes darken. “I can buy condoms.”
“You didn’t bring any?”
He shakes his head. “I thought I knew where you stood.”
As if to disprove both our assumptions, I lace our fingers together.
“Did you ever have a girlfriend? Besides the one who dumped you in college for not drinking enough?”
Will’s lips curve up. “No. My next-longest relationship lasted about six months, I think.”
“Why?”
He cocks his head. “Why what?”
“Why don’t you think you ever found another long-term girlfriend?” I clarify. “Considering how thoroughly you dated?”
Will glances behind us at nothing. He palms at his neck, fidgety. “I think it was probably because I was attracting the wrong kind of woman? I mean, they were nice girls. Just not right for me.”
“You were attracting New York tens who wanted a FiDi boyfriend who works out at a fancy gym like Equinox and love-bombs his girlfriend with designer presents.”
Will’s lips part and his eyes dance. “Uncanny.”
“I love being right.”
“CEOs usually do.”
“Did you have an Equinox membership?”
“Everybody was doing it,” he says.
“You just wanted to fit in,” I say. “Why didn’t it work out with the New York tens?”
He shrugs, lifting his coffee back to his lips with his free hand. “Couldn’t envision myself introducing them to my mother. To Doug. To Zoe.”
My stomach twists. If I hadn’t already met his family, would Will have been able to envision introducing me ?
“What was it you were looking for?” I ask.
Will sips on his drink while I stare him down. “Sorry?”
“If that variety of woman was what you had but not what you wanted, what was it you wanted but didn’t have ?”
He sets down his cup and recites his criteria, deadpan. “Blond, five-nine, three freckles on her left jawline. Quick as a whip, strong interior, soft edges. Chews on her bottom lip when she’s lost in thought. Hums Lizzy McAlpine under her breath when she thinks no one is listening.”
“Will—”
“So beautiful she’d break the New York scale.”
“Oh my God, you did not—”
“Driven, successful, friendly, brilliant—”
“Will!” I shriek softly.
“Like I said, Josie.” He picks his cup back up. “All day long.”
I smile and blush toward my café con leche, equal parts embarrassed and thrilled.
We tool around the city after that, quiet, content with existing near each other. Will stops at a convenience store and emerges with a nervous wink, but we don’t discuss it any further.
Over brunch at a spot not too far from our coffee pit stop (Will got the recommendations from a New York friend, who he may or may not have thoroughly dated), I manage to keep him focused on work through nearly the whole meal. We talk through the six-week timeline between now and Revenant’s scheduled meeting with a B Corp representative at the end of August, discussing everything that needs to be done after this trip.
“What will you do after you pass?” he asks as we’re walking out of the restaurant, back toward our bikes.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Will pulls on my waist when I start heading in the wrong direction. “I mean, after you finish your CEO classes, and after you pass the B Corp Assessment review, and after you open Revenant’s first brick-and-mortar store—then what?”
I set my sunglasses across the bridge of my nose. “Then Revenant will be a B Corp Certified omnichannel retail company with a CEO who’s got a master’s degree.”
He shoots me a look. “Cute. Not what I was getting at.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Will bends down to unlock the bike lock binding our front wheels together. “What’s the plan after all that?”
It’s an innocent question, but for some reason, my stomach bottoms out when I realize: “There isn’t one.”
He stands, wrapping the bike lock in a tight loop around his wrist. “I think I already know the answer, but is that unusual for you?”
I nod, in a trance. “I’ve spent the last seven years growing Revenant based on a very clear path for what came next. There were steps, ” I say. “Work I couldn’t get out from under. One thing and then another thing and the next thing and the next, snowballing into…”
I drift off, refocusing on Will. He’s watching me with careful attention, the barest sign of a smile behind his eyes. “Into a B Corp Certified omnichannel retail company with a CEO who’s got a master’s degree,” he repeats.
I grab the handlebars of my bike. “And maybe a little more free time?”
“For a boyfriend,” Will prompts.
“Why, are you interested in dating me thoroughly?”
“So fucking thoroughly, you don’t know the half of it.” His eyes float to my mouth, his tongue dipping out to trace his bottom lip. “I want you to be my girlfriend more than I have ever wanted any earthly thing.”
I want him the same way. I want him desperately, selfishly.
Because I also want the me I am when I’m with him.
The me who leaves the hotel room to explore.
The me who craves human touch.
The me who can’t stop laughing, whose mind is in constant savasana.
Will kisses me again—in broad daylight, two hunks of metal separating our lower halves. He braces one hand on top of the bike rack and uses his other to cup the back of my neck. He draws me in, tasting like sunlight. My heart beats fast. I settle my hands on his shoulders, tilting my head so I can kiss him back.
Time disintegrates.
It feels like fate.
Like fate made his bike hit my car. Like fate gave us jobs that would pull us into each other’s orbit again ten years later.
“Is your body getting used to it yet?” he asks, breath heavy when he pulls away.
“No.” I take a step back from him, eyes blinking. “My body is reacting more uncontrollably every time.”
“Well.” He shrugs, halfway grinning. “Makes two of us.”