Birthday Wishes - The List: Book 1 (6 page)

Apparently I took too long to respond because Luca followed up with another message.

Or maybe during lunch tomorrow? Can you get away?

Less demanding, but not any more realistic.

I wish. We're catering a luncheon for 120 people. I'll be busy all day.

This time I waited too long for a response.
I sighed and took another bite when my phone beeped.

Do you wear a uniform?

I almost spewed microwaved pasta onto my coffee table. He had to be disappointed, but instead of holding it against me, he rolled with it and switched fantasies. Nicely done. I messaged him back.

White dress shirt, black tie, short black skirt.

I'll admit it. Rachel and I fashioned our uniforms after the girls in the Robert Palmer video for “Addicted to Love.” They were simple, sexy, and affordable. Again, my phone beeped.

Heels?

I laughed out loud. I'd lay money that the next time Luca suggested the office fantasy that he would request it in my office with me in uniform.

Of course. Pic?

I didn't wait for a response and sent him the link to our website. There were several photos of Rachel and me in uniform. They were tastefully sexy. We spent a fortune on the right photographer to get the results we wanted, but agreed it was money well spent. He texted back right away.

Wow. . .wow!

Speechless Luca was sexy. And kind of cute. I took another bite and texted him back.

Glad you like it.

While I waited, I Googled “actuary” and sadly, there was absolutely nothing sexy about his job. I didn't bother asking if he had a hot uniform. Maybe the next time I set up an illicit online affair, I'd look for a firefighter or a cop. Or, hell, why not a stripper? One of those would have all the good costumes and a ready willingness to take them off on request. My phone beeped.

Here.

He’d attached a photo of himself at the gym. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt that did nothing to hide his physique. He was sweaty and mid-bench press. All the muscles in his neck, chest, and arms were tensed and he had a fierce I'll-eat-your-mother expression on his face. I whimpered. This was so much better than a stripper. But my text was understated.

Oh my.

Maybe it wasn't too late to meet at his office. After all, I was only thirty. I could easily stay up and still function perfectly the next day, right? Another text came through.

Okay, I'm going to let you go now because if I don't do that now, I'm going to keep you up all night. Seriously. Saturday?

I groaned, and knew I owed him big time for being responsible and giving me an out, but a large part of me wanted to beg him to keep me up all night. Whatever he had planned was bound to be more fun than sleep. No, I had to be responsible, too. I was determined to keep my sexy, pre-planned rendezvous carefully scheduled and not let it interfere with normal life.

Saturday because we have busy lives and we have to set some sort of boundaries, right? Handcuffing you to my bed doesn't pay nearly as well as catering snobby luncheons.

But the image I had was
so
much better. I read his next text.

True, but now I'm going to fantasize about you in that uniform for the rest of the week.

That seemed fair since as soon as he stopped texting I planned to change the wallpaper on my phone to a sweaty, muscle-y actuary.

I can live with that. I'm going to spend the rest of the week fantasizing about your desk.

At that point, I wasn't nearly as tired and so my frozen dinner no longer seemed a suitable option. I carried it back to the kitchen and threw it in the trash. On my way back to the living room, he texted me again.

Oh, I have something much better than that planned for Saturday. ;) We'll be working off my list this time. Sweet dreams, Mari.

Holy shit. Saturday couldn't get here soon enough.

I stared at the number on Luca's door and thought of all the reasons that meeting at his place was a bad fucking idea. Then I thought of all the reasons it was a good fucking idea. I'd gone through the list more times than I could remember and was still sitting firmly on the fence. But good idea or not, here I was, ready to knock on his door.

"Here goes nothing
," I muttered, then knocked firmly. No timid little taps for me. If I was going to be a harlot, I was going to do so proudly.

The door
eased
open and I finally saw Luca again. I'd worried that the week apart would change something, that the shiny new fascination might have worn off, but no. He answered shirtless, the smooth, solid muscle of his chest and abdomen tense and begging me to touch. I swear, I could hear his nipples crying out for me to bite them. Really. He wore a pair of gray sweat pants that settled low on his hips so that I could see the cut of his obliques as they narrowed at his hips.

Since molesting him in the doorway would
probably be rude, I settled for wrapping my arms around his waist, letting my palms glide over his skin slow and sure, and pulling him into a hug. The contact was delicious, but not nearly enough.

"Mari." He pressed his lips to my hair, whispered my name, and held me just a little tighter than the scope of our relationship justified. "Come in."

He pulled me into his living room and closed the door behind us. He grinned at me, carefree and happy. As he stared at me, the smile transformed gradually from pleased to lustful. The mood shifted to one of heavy need and I couldn't wait to take my clothes off and then take advantage of every naughty act the look in his eyes promised.

He shook his head and blinked with a laugh. "Can we talk for a second?"

Really? He wanted to talk? What man asks
that
when sex is totally about to happen?

"Okay." I must have looked as disappointed as I felt because Luca took my hand and led me to the couch.

"It won't take long, I promise."

I sat next to him rather than straddling his lap like I wanted. With very little effort, I could have his cock out and been riding it like my own personal rodeo. The sweatpants he was wearing showed that his body was totally on
board for that idea even if his mouth wanted to talk. I tore my eyes away from his crotch. The longer I stared at it, the more likely I was to say fuck it, and then fuck him. I was better than that. I could totally talk if that's what he wanted to do.

"What's up?"

He rubbed his palms against his pants and cleared his throat. "So, I. . .where do I want to start?"

I looked at him expectantly. I knew
exactly
where I wanted to start and it didn't involve words beyond the occasional
Oh, God!
and
Yes, right there!

He
sighed and said, "This is harder than I thought it would be. Okay, so, we made our lists together, right? And that took a lot of honesty on both our parts, to say aloud, well, type the words in our case, this is what we want."

I nodded, still not sure where
he was headed, but hoping some encouragement would get him there faster.

"And I totally thought I could have a purely sexual relationship, one where we connect solely to fuck and aren't required to engage in all the other niceties of a formal relationship."

"Right." That was the whole point. We got to fuck without emotional entanglements. But the way he was talking made me think he was having second thoughts. Uh-oh.

"But then I met you. I know you didn't expect me at your birthday party, but it was really nice. You're a good person."

Shit. This wasn't going anywhere good.

"And I had a
really
good time with you after the party was over." He smiled licentiously and it renewed my hope that our relationship, such as it was, might still work out.

"But when I woke up alone Sunday morning, I
. . .well, I didn't like it. And I was surprised by that." He folded my hand carefully between both of his and looked at me so sincerely I almost ran from the room. Shit shit shit.

"Luca
. . ." I started.

"I'm not asking for more. But I'm telling you I'm open to it. I debated not saying anything, but I want to continue being as honest with you as possible."

"You're very sweet, but I don't have room for more. That's why I went looking for the sex with no strings arrangement, remember?"

"I know, I know. Me
, too. But. . ."

"Can I think about it?" I already knew exactly what I thought about it. All my dirty fantasies went swirling down the drain with Luca's interest for more. Dammit. This was so seriously fucked up. Wasn't the woman supposed to beg for more while the man remained emotionally distant
? Apparently I was dating a girl. A really hot girl with sexy man parts and chiseled abs, but a girl nonetheless. Fuck my life.

"Of course. I don't even know for sure what I want. Maybe just for you to say goodbye when you leave tonight?"
He shrugged, uncertain, and I relaxed exponentially. Maybe this could still work. He didn't sound hell bent to rent a U-Haul any time soon.

"I can do that." I nodded.

"Good." He kissed me sweetly, then stood abruptly. His posture instantly shifted from uncertain to confident and demanding. His eyes were hooded and dark and so, so sexy. I sat a little taller, alert for what he would do next.

"Now, I need you to strip."
He spoke softly, his voice melodic and edged with steely promise.

I whimpered, but totally forgot how to move. I stared at him dumbly, unable to keep up with his mood shift.

He narrowed his eyes. "Now, Mari. I want you naked."

Oh, shit. That was fucking hot.

"Okay." I stuttered and worked clumsily through my buttons. I really, really wished I'd worn a T-shirt instead of the cute blouse with tiny pearl buttons that I'd fantasized about Luca opening with his teeth. I removed my shirt, then hesitated over the bra.

"All of it."

I hoped his curtains were closed, because I wasn't about to check. He got all authoritative and I got all kinds of wet and compliant. He wanted me naked, my clothes were coming off.

I unhooked my bra and slid it down my arms. Before it joined my shirt on the floor, I'd already unzipped my fly. Luca stood back with his arms crossed and a half-smile on his face. I pushed my pants and panties down at the same time. Shit, they got caught on my shoes. There was absolutely no graceful way to step out of my clothes completely without removing my shoes first. Believe me, I've tried.

His smile grew from half to whole as I struggled. Dammit. Why didn't I wear slip-ons? First the damn pearl buttons because I thought they looked sexy. Now the damn boots with the laces that went on forever. I gave up and sat on the couch. When the first boot finally slid off, I exclaimed, "Ha!" And felt immediately foolish.

Luca smirked and my face flared red hot. In the future we'd have to discuss our plans ahead of time so I could be better dressed for the occasion.
He was wearing a pair of goddamned sweat pants, for Christ's sake. It would take no effort at all for him to be naked. The thought made my heart beat just a little faster and I looked him up and down, evaluating the cut of his muscles, the way his pants hung low on his hips as though held up by a sheer act of will. Gravity would eventually win and then I'd get to stare at him the way he was staring at me. I lingered on his crotch, the outline of his cock obvious in the loose fabric. I licked my lips and his dick twitched and lengthened. It was official. I loved sweat pants.

When I finally looked at
his face again, his smirk was gone and his face was red to match mine. It was my turn to smirk. And, like a cosmic gift, my other boot came off without further struggle. I stood and stepped out of my clothes, finally naked as commanded.

"Now what?" My voice came out breathy and deep, worthy of a porn star.

He swallowed, his eyes focused on my breasts. The dark, hungry look he'd had when he told me to take off my clothes had been replaced with horny thirteen-year-old-boy eager. I wanted the forceful, demanding version of Luca back. I was willing to prompt it by being a little insubordinate. I gave a little shimmy to get his attention and my boobs shook. His eyes widened and I sighed in irritation. That had the opposite effect of what I wanted.

"Luca?" I waved my hand to get his attention.