If You Need Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

“You can do this. It’s not a big deal. Just ask. It’s one question.” I’vegiven myself the pep talk a dozen times in the last fifteen minutes. I don’t know why I can show up at Willy’s house and ask her to sit on my face, but this situation makes me anxious. Regardless, it’s time to take action.

I pry my hands from the edge of the sink, mentally berating my boner, who is slow to get a clue. Eventually he’s calmed down enough that I can leave the privacy of the bathroom. I walk down the hall of the Terror main offices, taking a deep breath as I approach Wills’s lair.

I hear her before I see her. Actually, I hear her fingers click, click, clicking away on the keyboard. She’s an exceptionally fast typist. I don’t knock at first. Instead, I peek around the jamb, so I can gauge her mood. If I catch her at the wrong time, she’ll say no, and I need her to say yes. Though I already know she won’t be happy about it.

A slight smile tugs at the corner of her luscious mouth. I will myself to not think about how good it felt to make her come. How much I loved being the one to give her what she needed, how I want to do it again. Aaaand now it’s too late. My brain rewinds to her bedroom, to being submerged in the scent of her, the taste. Her hands in my hair, my mouth on her skin. And the fucking sounds she made. Wills is a badass every moment of every day, but she’s so pretty and sweet when she’s moaning my name and coming on my tongue. Sexy and formidable. I shake off the hormone haze as I take in the incredibly gorgeous specimen of a woman sitting behind her desk. A navy blazer hangs over the back of her executive chair. She’s wearing a pale blue blouse underneath, the top button unfastened, revealing a small heart-shaped locket. It contains pictures of her moms. I know this because once she thought she’d lost it and tore her office apart to find it. She’d been on the verge of tears when it fell out of the bottom of her shirt. Apparently, it had unfastened on its own and fallen into her bra.

“Why are you spying on me?” she snaps suddenly.

So much for discreet ogling. I don’t know what happened, but I’m ever familiar with guarded and prickly Wilhelmina. Her bark might be as bad as her bite, but I don’t care.

“I didn’t want to interrupt if you were on a call.” And I fully intended to run away if she looked unhappy.

She takes off her glasses and levels me with an impatient glare. “What do you need?”

To convince you that all of this is real and not just a farce, and to let me worship you for the rest of my life. “To take you on a date.” If I can’t go with the actual truth, I can at least go with direct honesty.

Her lips push out, and her forehead creases. “A date.” Her tone makes it sound like I’m asking her to go on a murder spree.

“Yeah. You know, we spend the day together, do a bunch of fun stuff, finish it off with dinner at a nice restaurant, and a walk on the pier if the lake doesn’t smell like a giant pile of dead fish.” Sometimes, Lake Ontario has a not-too-pleasing scent in the summer. I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t keep running them through my hair.

“Why?”

I expect this question, and the confusion marring her lovely features, but it doesn’t stop the shitty feeling that makes my stomach roll. Telling her I want to take her on a date, that I want to wine and dine her and treat her like a queen will only be met with a scoff and more disbelief. I know why she’s this way. I’ve seen her mocked in moments of vulnerability. I’ve watched people be kind to her face and so awful behind her back, even at work. It was short-sighted to believe adding sexual favors to our agreement would make her see the truth. But there was no way anyone else would be taking care of my fiancée’s needs. Especially not her fuck buddy. So again, I go with honesty she won’t question, even though it sucks.

“Brooklyn’s mom has been asking my mom for pictures.”

Willy’s head falls back and her eyes roll up to the ceiling. “Because we don’t have any online.”

“Yeah.” I should’ve seen this coming. Brooklyn’s mom is the town gossip. She’s always in everybody’s business, and she creates drama wherever she goes. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Brooklyn was the queen of spreading rumors in high school. Probably still is. It always surprised me that Wilhelmina was her friend. But they’d hung out since elementary school, and Wills is as loyal as they come.

“It’s one giant headache after another, isn’t it?” Wills rubs her temples.

Spending an entire day with her, just the two of us, is my fucking dream. But she wouldn’t believe that’s true. She’d assume I’m mocking her.

“You know what she’s like. I explained that we were trying to keep things low-key so as not to create more PR drama for you, which my mom understands, but she’d like a few pictures. She’s pretty excited about the whole thing.” And there’s a five-million-percent chance that she’s also planning to make one of those photo collages to hang on the living room wall.

Wills heaves an annoyed sigh. “Fine. I guess you have a point about us needing pictures as a couple. How long do you think this would take? A couple of hours?”

“We probably need a whole day. Unless you want to spread it out over multiple dates.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That sounds inefficient. Plus, your mom will want some variety, won’t she?” Her nails drum on her desktop. “We should schedule a bunch of activities in different locations. And I’ll bring a few changes of clothes so it looks like different days. Besides, it’ll give us a chance to plan for the reunion. We can tick a bunch of boxes, and Brooklyn’s mom can back the hell off.”

Half of me loves that she’s already in planning mode, the other half would like her to look at this as less of an obligation and a job. But getting a day in with her is the important part. The only way I can prove my feelings are real is to show her. And I can’t do that if we’re not spending time together—fingerbangs and face sitting aside. “How about Saturday? Would that work for you?”

“Let me check my calendar.” She types away on her computer for a few seconds, a crease between her eyes. I want to run my index finger over the spot to smooth it out. “Saturday is free. I planned to run errands, but I can do most of it on Sunday.”

“Awesome. I’ll pick you up at eleven?” That gives me a couple of days to get everything organized. I’ll make the most of this day together, and not because Brooklyn’s mom needs photographic evidence of our relationship.

“I can just meet you wherever.” She crosses her arms, as if she’s daring me to challenge her independence.

“It makes a lot more sense for me to pick you up. Especially since we live three blocks apart.”

She taps at her lips with a blue painted nail. Lips I’ve had on mine recently. I wish I could stop thinking about kissing her for five seconds.

Another deep sigh. “I guess you have a point.”

“Awesome. I promise I’ll make it fun.”

“If you say so. I have a call in ten minutes, so unless there’s anything else…” She lets the sentence hang.

“Nope. I got what I came for. Looking forward to our date.” I give her a thumbs-up and grin as she levels me with the evilest of evil eyes. “Have a great rest of your day, Wills.” I exit her office backwards, in case she decides to lob something at my head as I leave.

“I hope you step on LEGO while barefoot,” she calls to my retreating form.

I smile as I whistle my way down the hall. I have a date with Wills. Now I just need to make sure it’s the best she’s ever been on.