“Anyway.” I ignored the knowing gleam in his eyes and deliberately turned my back to him. I swept an arm around the freshly tidied space. “Welcome to my humble abode. Six hundred square feet of rent-controlled luxury, right in the heart of the East Village.”
I’d lucked out on my studio apartment. A friend of a friend had lived here before they moved back to Arizona, and I’d snagged it before it went on the market. Sixteen hundred dollars for a downtown location with decent natural lighting, in-building laundry, and no roach or rat infestation? By New York standards, it was a steal.
Kai came up beside me and surveyed the little touches I’d added to make the apartment homier— the collection of shot glasses I’d acquired on my travels, the electric keyboard stashed beneath the window, the oil portrait Vivian and Sloane had commissioned as a joke for one of my birthdays. It depicted Monty as a Victorian aristocrat wearing a white ruffled collar. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen, and I loved it.
The studio was probably the size of Kai’s closet, but I was inordinately proud of it. It was mine, at least for as long as I could pay rent, and I’d made it my home in a city that chewed up and spit out starry-eyed newcomers faster than they could unpack their suitcases.
“This apartment is very you,” Kai observed, his warm, amused gaze alighting on the golden vase of peacock feathers by the door.
Something fluttered in my chest. “Thank you.”
Then, because it would be rude for me not to introduce the true lord of the house, I walked over to the vivarium and retrieved the ball python lounging amid the greenery.
“Meet Monty.” I’d bought him a few months after I moved to New York. Ball pythons were incredibly low maintenance and cheap to care for, which made them perfect for my bartender schedule and salary. Monty wasn’t as cuddly as a cat or dog, but it was nice to come home to a pet, even if all he did was eat, drink, and sleep.
He slithered over my shoulder and peered curiously at Kai, whose mouth flickered with a smile.
“Monty the python. Cute.”
“My father was a big Life of Brian fan,” I admitted. I wasn’t as devoted a fan, but I liked puns and my father would’ve gotten a hoot out of it, had he still been alive.
“Interesting. I figured you’d be a Pomeranian girl.”
“Because I’m adorable with great hair?”
“No, because you’re small and yappy.” Kai’s smile graduated into a laugh when I swatted his arm.
“Be nice, or I’ll sic Monty on you.”
“Quite a threat, but I’d be more concerned if he were a viper instead of a friendly ball python,”
Kai drawled.
As if to prove his point, Monty rubbed his head against Kai’s outstretched hand.
“Traitor,” I grumbled. “Who’s the one that feeds you?” But I couldn’t suppress my own smile at the adorable sight.
Most people were terrified of snakes because they thought they were ugly or venomous or evil.
Some snakes were, but judging an entire species by a few bad apples was like judging all humans by the serial killer population. It was grossly unfair, and I had a soft spot for anyone who treated Monty respectfully instead of looking like they wanted to call animal control on him the first chance they got.
After a few minutes, I placed Monty back in his vivarium, where he yawned and happily curled into a ball. He was well socialized and had a higher tolerance for being held than other snakes, but I tried not to stress him out with too much contact from strangers.
“How was the retreat?” I washed my hands and turned back to Kai, who rinsed after me. “Four days of leadership training sounds like a special torture method conjured in the depths of corporate hell.”
They couldn’t pay me enough to attend.
Well…okay, I’d do it for a million dollars, but no less.
“It’s not that bad,” Kai said with another laugh. “There was a session on scope diversification and consolidation that was quite illuminating.”
My nose scrunched with distaste. “I can’t believe I’m having sex with a man who uses the term ‘scope diversification and consolidation.’ Is this what dating in New York has come to?”
A wicked grin stole across his face. “You weren’t complaining when you were screaming my name just a few nights ago.”
If someone told me two months ago that stuffy Kai Young would be smiling at me like that, I would’ve asked what drug they were on. Now, I struggled and failed to tamp down a blush.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” I said loftily. “You’ll have to replicate it before you start bragging.
Who knows? You could be a one-hit wonder.”
“Perhaps.” He stepped closer to me. My heart rate ratcheted up, and the air shifted, turning hazy with anticipation. “Shall we test your theory?”
Here’s the thing about humans. We’ll almost always throw aside common sense in favor of instant gratification.
I knew eating pizza every week wasn’t healthy, but I still did it.
I knew I should write every morning before binge-watching Netflix, but I didn’t.
And I knew getting involved with Kai was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, but I’d been drowning alone for years, and being with him was the only time I could breathe.
I didn’t resist when he kissed me or when those clever, nimble hands removed our clothes with a few deft tugs and pulls. My own hands joined in, hungrily mapping bare skin and sculpted muscle.
Our first time had been explosive, the culmination of months of buildup. This was sweet and languorous, unconstrained by fear and heightened by our week apart. The night stretched before us in an endless canvas of possibility, and we painted it with kisses and sighs until pleasure swept them aside with one bold stroke.
When it was over, I sank deeper into the bed while Kai rolled off me, my limbs heavy with languid warmth.
“Don’t tell Viv and Sloane,” I said, “but you’re the best houseguest I’ve ever had. Two-hit wonder.
Ten out of ten recommend.”
I didn’t care if I inflated his ego further. I was too busy floating on a cloud of post-coital bliss.
His laugh made me smile. Every uninhibited reaction I pulled out of him was another thread unraveled. The mask was falling away, revealing more and more of the real Kai, and I liked him more than I cared to admit.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Despite the humor crinkling his eyes, I sensed an underlying tension in his voice. A notch formed between his brows, faint but clearly visible.
“Everything okay?” I asked. “You seem more stressed than someone who just had sex should be.
Depending on your answer, I’m either extremely offended or somewhat worried.”
“It’s not you,” he said. “It’s work.”
“Of course it is. Would you be a New York businessman if you weren’t worried about work all the time?” I quipped before growing serious. “Is it DigiStream?”
“That’s part of it.” There was a long pause. Then softly, so softly I almost didn’t hear him, he said, “My mother said I might lose the CEO vote.”
The admission shocked me out of my sex-induced stupor.