My Reason to Live

Chapter 3

I wake to the sound of a phone ringing. Really loudly. It takes me a moment to realize that it's the hotel room phone. Reaching out a hand, I grab the receiver of the phone on the nightstand beside my head.

"Hello?" My voice sounds rough.

I didn't get much sleep last night. I couldn't stop thinking about Jade. About the sex I had with her. And I was wishing that I'd stayed with her. That I was waking up with her and not to this ringing phone.

"Guess what I have in my hand?"

Jade?

"Jade?"

"The one and only."

It's her. A big smile spreads across my face.

"How do you know which hotel I'm staying in?" I ask.

"I have my ways. So, are you going to guess what I have in my hand?"

"No. I'm more concerned with your stalking abilities."

Honestly, I couldn't care less. I'm glad she found me. I just like playing with her.

She sighs. "You flew with my company. You're staying in one of my hotels. I have access to the agents you booked with. It wasn't hard to find out which hotel you were staying at. All it took was one phone call."

"Did you make the call?"

"No, my assistant did," she says, sounding like there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

I laugh. "Do you do anything yourself, Thirlwall?"

"Of course I do. I give amazing head, you know that." That makes me shiver. "And I cook stir-fry for list-making Bostonians who won't stop asking questions."

I laugh again. I love that she makes me laugh.

"You did cook for me. You also gave me amazing head—my first ever—and you fucked me very well."

"Why, thank you, ma'am," she says, her accent thickening. "Now, are you going to answer my question?"

"Which was?"

"What do I have in my hand?"

"I don't know. My ability of foresight was slightly hampered by a phone ringing and waking me at the butt-crack of dawn."

"It's not the butt-crack of dawn. It's ten A.M. I've been up and working for hours. Wait, you're in bed?"

"I am." I stretch out in the warmth of the bed.

"What are you wearing?"

I bite down on the smile that I've been wearing since I heard her voice down the line. "I thought you wanted me to guess what you have in your hand."

"I want to know what you're wearing more." Her voice has dropped an octave lower and sounds all sexy and seductive.

"Pajama shorts and a top." Why did I tell her that? I should have said something sexier than pajamas.

But then her resounding moan tells me that I said the right thing.

"Your knickers," she says, her voice sounding rough.

"I'm knickers?"

"No, you're not knickers. I have your knickers in my hand."

"Do you mean, my panties?" I giggle at the word knickers. It sounds so funny.

"Say that again." Her voice is raspy.

"What? Panties?"

"Yeah. It sounds sexy when you say it."