Precious Consequences (29 page)

I ignore the pain in my wrists and focus only on the building pressure between my legs. He starts curling his fingers upward, massaging my upper walls each time his fingers retreat, and applying more pressure as they surge back in. I can’t help but think that he’s a musician and I am the instrument. The wave of ecstasy is close and I feel myself tighten around his fingers until…until… an alarm goes off.

My eyes fly open and I sit up straight in bed. I hit the clock next to my bed to shut off the alarm that abruptly ended my very happy dream before I got happy. I wipe the small droplets of sweat from my forehead and slump against my head board.
Did I just have a wet dream?
Yes. I just had a wet dream. Under normal circumstances I would feel embarrassed, ashamed even, but given that I haven’t had sex in over a year, it’s perfectly normal for me to feel
frustrated.
Thanks to my alarm's impeccable timing, I’m even more frustrated after being unable to
finish.
The image of deep, blue eyes and dark, rich brown hair comes to mind and I blush, even though I’m alone in my room. He can only be a figment of my imagination, a delirious fantasy, because I’ve never dated a man that looks anything like him. Something about those eyes…

A soft knock on my bedroom door makes me jump and I clasp my damp tank top. “Who is it?” I choke out. It can only be one person but I’m so lost in my imaginary Adonis’ blue eyes that all sense momentarily disappeared.

“What do you mean ‘who is it’?” my roommate and best friend Quinn asks as she steps into my room.

I sigh. “Sorry, Quinny. I was a little confused.” She comes to stand next to my bed and I take in her light pink nighties and her matching pink slippers. Quinn Avery is a stunning woman. Her blonde hair is cut into a sleek bob that accentuates her high cheek bones, rosy cheeks and hazel colored eyes. We’re both the same height, standing at five feet six inches, but where her hair his blonde and short, mine is light brown and hangs to the middle of my back, and where her eyes are hazel, mine are green.

“You better get ready,” she quips, surveying my sweaty appearance. “You have a meeting at eight.” I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and pick up the old-fashioned alarm clock that ruined my morning.

“Shit,” I mutter.

I have less than forty five minutes to get ready and make a stop at Starbucks on my way to work. I dash past Quinn, who chuckles behind me, and take the quickest shower of my life. If it wasn’t for Quinn, I would never do anything or get anywhere on time. You’d think that by the age of twenty-two my time management would be perfect. Sadly, it’s not. I riffle through my small closet until I find my gray pencil skirt and my white button down blouse with bell sleeves. I’m busy fastening the strap of my black wedges when Quinn walks into my room. She’s wearing her favorite cream colored dress pants with a red button down shirt and matching red stiletto heels.

“I’m almost ready,” I say. I grab my on-the-go make-up bag and throw it into my oversized Gucci knock off purse.

“Are we stopping at Starbucks?” Quinn asks while she puts her diamond stud earrings in. She always dresses to impress and that goes for her flashy accessories too. Unlike me, Quinn comes from a very wealthy family who are very well known here in Chicago. She doesn’t need a job but chooses to work because it’s what she loves doing.

I roll my eyes. “I never miss my morning cup of java,” I quip. “You know that, Quinny.”

Making sure that I have everything, I grab my purse and my laptop bag and walk out in the hallway and into the kitchen. I love our little apartment. It’s our slice of heaven. The floors are all hardwood and the furniture is a combination of dark chocolate and caramel in color, with red scatter cushions to add some depth. The short hallway leads to two bedrooms and a bathroom. Luckily Quinn has an en suite bathroom of her own so we don’t have to share. Our kitchen has steel appliances, courtesy of Quinn’s parents, and marble counters with wood cupboards that match the floors. My favorite feature is the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in the corner of what should be our dining room. Instead of dining room furniture, we got a chaise lounge set and now use it as a reading nook. Quinn comes strolling down the hallway like it’s a runway and slips her too big sunglasses on top of her head. In the two years that we’ve been living together, I’ve learned many things about Quinn, one of them being no matter how well she dresses she doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks. She smiles at me and I return it as we slip out of our apartment and into the elevator that takes us five floors down to the lobby. We greet Charles, an older gentleman, who mans the front desk, and step into the bustle of a Monday morning. The city is so different compared to where I grew up. There isn’t even a comparison between it and the tiny town I ran away from or the two bedroom trailer I shared with my good-for-nothing parents. I push my thoughts about
them
and
that
life out of my mind as we near the Starbucks on the corner.

“Your usual?” I ask Quinn as I take out my purse to pay.

She nods and I immediately fall into the line before the morning rush starts. I order two Vanilla Lattes and wait patiently to collect them. The young guy behind the counter is watching me and I have to admit the attention isn’t completely unwelcome. He looks about twenty-one with sandy blonde hair that hangs in his face. He isn’t unfortunate looking by any means but I find myself comparing him to the blue eyes and chocolate colored hair from my dream. My cheeks flush at the memory and when the guy hands me our Latte’s the look on his face tells me he thinks
he
made me blush. I duck my head and pass Quinn her cup before walking back out onto the busy sidewalk.

“What was
that
all about?” Quinn asks between sips.

I mutter, “Nothing,” and keep my head down while inhaling the sweet caffeinated aroma coming from my cup.

“Does it have anything to do with you screaming like a banshee this morning?”

I almost choke on the hot liquid in my mouth and barely manage to stop it from shooting out my nose. When Quinn sees my shocked expression, my eyes wide, she giggles.

“You heard me?” I whisper. Quinn laughs harder and I wish the sidewalk would swallow me whole. Great. Nothing like your best friend hearing your screams in the middle of a wet dream.

“I’m pretty sure the whole building heard you, Cass,” she chuckles.

“Can you imagine what I would’ve sounded like if I fi-” I slap my hand over my mouth and watch as Quinn almost doubles over with laughter. Now I’ve really done it. Foot meet mouth.

Quinn finally catches her breath and pats my shoulder sympathetically. “We need to get you laid,” she proclaims, not giving a rats ass who overhears our conversation. We walk past a little old lady who gasps and then scowls when I look at her sheepishly.

“Says the diva who was out until God knows what time this morning, getting freaky with Jarred,” I retort quickly. Her porcelain cheeks flush. “Ha,” I shout. “I knew it! You just can’t stop yourself, can you?”

Quinn lifts her dainty shoulders in a shrug but I see the smile tugging at her red lips. She can’t lie to me. I heard her come in at about two a.m. “Why don’t you put the poor guy out of his misery and go on a date with him?” I ask.

She purses her lips, pulling the bottom one between her teeth. “Because I don’t do commitment,” she replies. “Jarred and I are just friends.”

I snort. “Friends who happen to fuck like rabbits for three weeks out of the month.”

“What can I say,” she grins. “When I have an itch, nobody can scratch it quite like Jarred does.” A sigh breaks free from her mouth. “God, he’s
fantastic
in bed. If I didn’t go to gym four days a week he would’ve broken my
va-jay-jay
by now.”

“Lucky bitch,” I mutter under my breath.

“I’ve told you before, Jarred has plenty of hot lawyer friends who I’m sure will be happy to help you get rid of some of your
frustration.
Just say the word and I’ll have him hook you up,” Quinn says.

I shake my head. “We’ve spoken about this before, Quinny. I don’t want a ‘hump and dump’.” She shrugs nonchalantly as we enter the double doors to our office building.

“Suit yourself.”

I look around the lobby of Knight Media and smile. I’ve been the publishing assistant for almost two years now, since I graduated from college, and wouldn’t give it up for anything. I worked my ass off to get here. Knight Media is the second largest media company in the city. It is an umbrella company of sorts, housing a complementary group of multinational companies specializing in publishing, digital advertising and film and television production. Quinn is the editorial assistant for the newspaper division while I work in the book publishing division. Our CEO, Robert Knight, recently decided to branch out into digital publishing and gave me the task of putting together a proposal for the executives. That’s why I can’t be late for
any
meeting.

“Holy shit,” I hear Quinn whisper next to me. I look up and follow her gaze until my eyes land on
him.

His black suit fits him flawlessly, his navy blue shirt tucked in just enough to show a broad chest. His mop of dark brown hair hangs just above his eyebrows but is styled in that just-fucked way. “Who’s that?” I ask in a hushed tone, as if the Adonis over there may hear me.

“That, my sexually frustrated friend,” Quinn sighs, putting her toned arm over my shoulders. “Is none other than the infamous Kyler Knight.”

My lips form an ‘Oh’ as we watch
Kyler
being mauled by a drop dead gorgeous redhead who kisses him unabashedly, giving no mind to the small audience gathering to watch their embrace. “Who’s the redhead?”

Quinn frowns and her face contorts into the expression she gets when she’s about to be a total bitch. “Jessa fucking Price.” My eyebrows shoot up at the tone of her voice.

“You know her?” I ask.

“Everybody does. She’s slept with half the people in this city. Our fathers are friends and our mothers both champion the same charities. I practically grew up with the bitch.”

Quinn pulls me towards the elevator, dragging my attention away from the beautiful couple and back to reality. I check my watch and see that I have exactly ten minutes before my meeting starts. We step into the empty elevator just as a hand stops the two doors from closing. He steps into the elevator and the air in my lungs somehow escapes without ever leaving my mouth.

“Quinn,” he greets with a smile.
She knows him?

“Kyler,” she replies, not returning his friendliness. His eyes travel the length of my body, the tiny hairs on the back my neck standing up, until they lock with mine. I suck in a breath.
I know those blue eyes.
He brushes a piece of hair out if his face and I notice that it’s darker than what I thought. A dark, rich chocolate brown.

“Who’s your friend?” he asks. The question is directed at Quinn but our eyes never break contact.

“Cassey Emerson. Cassey, this is Kyler Knight. His father owns Knight Media.” Kyler sticks out his hand and I gingerly mimic his action. His hand is easily three times bigger than mine. It wraps around mine effortlessly, his slightly calloused fingers brushing up against my soft skin.

“Nice to meet you, Cassey.” His smile widens into a wolfish grin.

“You too,” I squeak. He holds my hand a moment longer than what would be considered appropriate when meeting someone for the first time. The elevator chimes and I drop his hand like it’s burned me. Quinn grasps my elbow and leads me out onto our floor. Kyler’s eyes stay fixed on me until the elevator doors close.

“Wipe your mouth, Cass,” she whispers harshly. “You’re drooling and I’m pretty sure Kyler noticed.”

Kyler. Why does that name sound so familiar?

Then it hits me like a freight train.

“Oh, God,” I breathe. My eyes go wide and I look at Quinn.

“What?” she asks. I swallow hard and fight the blush I can feel creeping up my neck into my cheeks.

“Quinn,” I sputter. “It’s him.”

Her eyebrows dip into a confused scowl, “It’s him who?” We step into my office and I shut the door quickly.

“It’s him, Quinn.” 

“What are you talking about, Cass?”

“Kyler. He’s the one I dreamt about this morning.” I bury my face in my hands to hide my mortification. I risk a peek through my fingers and see Quinn’s shoulders shaking with her quiet laughter. “Quinn,” I whine. “It’s not funny.” I slap her on the arm.

“You’re right,” she replies between laughs. “It’s not funny. It’s hilarious.” I throw my hands up in defeat and grab my little make up bag to start applying my make-up. Quinn comes to stand next to me. “Are you sure it was him?” she asks seriously. All the laughter is gone from her face.

“Yes. I said his name and told him to-” my mouth snaps shut before I divulge any more humiliating information about my naughty dream. Quinn smirks and I bite my lip to stifle the giggle I feel crawling up my throat.

“I don’t blame you. He’s a catch and I hear he’s certainly not
lacking
down south,” Quinn concedes. She grabs the eye shadow from my hands and spins me so that I’m facing her.

“I didn’t know you knew him,” I say quietly while she applies some color to my eyelids.

“Not very well. I just know our parents are acquaintances. Kyler has a bit of a reputation and he’s a few years older than us so we never really hung out,” she states. My thoughts drift back to the redhead we saw pawing him earlier and my face twists into a scowl involuntarily.

“Was that his girlfriend down in the lobby?” I ask, trying to sound indifferent. I fail miserably. I open my eyes to find Quinn studying me.

“No,” she replies. “But they attend most of the social events together throughout the year. It’s no secret that they’re using each other for sex.” I don’t know why, but a sudden heaviness settles in my belly. Quinn checks her watch. “You better skedaddle. You’re going to be late,” she tells me.

“See you at lunch?” I ask on my way out. She nods and we head in opposite directions.