“Good?” she asks.
I give a swipe of my tongue over my bottom lip to catch some stray frosting there. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”
She beams a brilliant smile as she sets the cake carrier on the counter and turns toward the door that leads back into my office. “You’re welcome. Now… I’ve got to get going.”
“Wait,” I say as I snag her arm and turn her back to me. “You just got here.”
“And my work is done,” she says impishly, going to her tiptoes to give me a quick kiss. “I’m meeting Mom and Corinne for lunch, and I’ve got to get going.”
Well, there goes all thought of spending my afternoon with Trista in bed rather than golfing.
But I’d never begrudge her time with Jolene and Corinne. Their unity right now is extremely important. I do pull her into me and wrap my arms around her waist after throwing the fork into the sink. Trista’s hands come to my chest as she looks up at me curiously.
“Take the night off,” I tell her softly and I have to admit, the way her eyes go warm makes me feel fucking really good. “Make it an entire day and night thing with Corinne, okay?”
“Really?” she asks with sweetest type of surprise in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I murmur as I tighten my arms around her. “I’ll keep myself occupied with the cake tonight.”
Her lips quirking, she gets a playful look in her eyes. “We could… um… FaceTime each other later.”
My eyebrows rise with interest, but I play a little stupid. “FaceTime?”
“Naked. FaceTime.” She annunciates each word slowly, and my dick perks up at this suggestion.
And for a man who has done about every dirty thing imaginable, it hits me hard that this is something new. Something I’ve never done with another woman and now, I’m glad she’s not coming so I can have something new and unique just with Trista.
“What time might you be calling me?” I ask in a husky voice.
“Be ready around eleven,” she says, pressing into me. “Clothing is optional.”
“Wrong,” I tell her with a shake of my head. “Naked is mandatory.”
Trista giggles. It’s a great sound. It’s not girlish or immature. It’s sweet and melodic, and while I like making her scream and cry out, I like making her giggle too.
“Okay, I’ve really got to get going,” she says with a smile, then gives me another quick kiss.
With a hand behind her head, I ensure it’s not quick, but one that’s deep and meaningful. When I finally pull back, I rub my nose against hers. “Thank you again for the cake. It was the nicest thing anyone’s done for me for as long as I can remember.”
Trista sort of jerks in my arms and leans her back to look at me. “Now that’s just sad, Jerico.”
“Pitiful really,” I agree with a pathetic downward turn of my lips.
Patting me on the chest, Trista smirks. “I’ll make you another cake.”
Yes, I’d like that a lot.
I don’t get to tell her that because she’s pulling out of my arms. “I really have to go. When you’re touching me, it makes it hard to remember that.”
Snickering, I make a playful grab at her, but she sidesteps me, blows me a quick kiss, and then disappears through the door back into my office. I follow, enjoying my view of her ass as she sashays out without a backward glance. Smiling, I walk to the door and lock it, intent on spending the afternoon in my apartment now, eating cake and watching TV. Not the most exciting of days, but I figure I’ll spend part of my time thinking of interesting things I can show her while we FaceTime tonight.
I head to the built-ins, swing the Ansel Adams print away from the wall, and pull down on the lever that opens the safe. After I snatch the manila envelope out, I walk to my desk. Pulling my rolling chair back, I sit down and lean forward with my elbows on my knees, staring at the packet of lewd fuckery I hold in my hands. I’d even addressed it to Jayce, having easily found out where he lives due to my contacts through The Jameson Group.
My revenge used to be very important to me, but I realize that the moment Trista showed me that cake, it’s simply not anymore.
I can’t risk hurting Trista just to hurt her brother.
Can’t do it.
She’s more important than revenge.
She makes me feel better than any retribution toward Jayce could ever do.
I look at the gray box under my desk. It’s my shred bin and it gets picked up once a month as I don’t have a lot of paper documents that are confidential. Normally, there’s a top on the box that locks but the slot to slide the papers in is really narrow which makes it hard to put a thick stack in there, so I took it off and God only knows where it is now. I’m not worried for the same reason I don’t lock my safe. I’ve got a good security alarm and a lock on the door that’s sufficient.