respond right away, and I set my phone down in my lap again.
“Well . . . ?” Lo asks.
“Fine, but I’m only giving up what I want to and nothing more.”
“I’m not asking for your anal virginity. I’m asking about a man who has you intrigued.”
I roll my eyes at her. “His name is Waylon Brass, but he goes by Wade on a personal level.”
I swear that her jaw drops open like she’s about to swallow a girthy cock. “Excuse me?” she squeaks.
“Uhm, Wade. That’s his name and no, I don’t have any pictures of him.”
“My God, you’re a lucky bitch. Are you serious? Do you know who he is?”
“What?”
“He’s only Chicago’s most eligible bachelor. All of the women would give their ovaries over to have him in bed with them. He’s the owner of Brass Global. The man won’t date anyone, though . . . until now,” she says as she raises a perfectly shaped brow at me.
“We’re not dating, Lola.”
She scoffs. “Yes. Yes, you are, and don’t you dare deny it. He could be good for you.” She grabs my phone and types in Waylon Brass into Google Images. In a second the screen is bursting with images of him. I take my phone back and click on the first picture. He’s wearing a navy suit with a white button-down and no tie. The collar of his shirt is undone, and my heart palpitates.
“That man is dapper as fuck,” she states matter-of-factly.
This man is unquestionably gorgeous. There’s no doubt about it, and my attraction to him is obviously not something I can hide, considering I’m almost hyperventilating at his picture, just thinking about his lips.
“You’re blushing,” Lo yelps and throws her arms around my neck in a hug.
“I am not.” I touch my cheeks, and they are warmer than normal. Damn it.
“Hads, you really like him.”
“I don’t know anything about him, Lola. How can I like him?”
“An instant attraction, that’s how. You may not want to give up your whorish ways, but no one comes into our lives by accident, and we seem to attract what we’re ready for, what we want.”
“I mean, I know I’m physically attracted to him, but that might be it.”
“Nope. I believe that there’s more. Why don’t you give him a chance?”
I lean away from her suffocating hug and shake my head. “I have, and I am, but I feel as if he’s seen inside my soul with just a glance at me—it’s as if he can see straight through me.”
“And? I don’t see the problem with that.”
I pull up my knees and hug them, resting my head on top as I look over at her. “Me either. That’s the issue.”
My phone vibrates, and I swear my heart physically slams against my chest. I pick it up and swipe my finger across the screen: I couldn’t wait. What’s your apartment number?
“Holy shit.”
“What happened?” Lola asks as all of the color drains from my face.
“He’s here.”
“What? Here? Like in the building here?”
“Mmm-hmm. He wants to come up.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? I’ll just say hi and vanish. I just want to see him in person. I never have before, and I’ve heard that his pictures don’t do him any justice.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
I send a short reply to him: 1324. I don’t want him to know just how much his wanting to be with me has affected me. I mean, I just saw him some two hours ago, and I’m desperate to see him again.
I watch as Lo jumps up and runs over to her purse, pulling out her lipstick and applying it at the hallway mirror before fluffing her hair out.
Uh, hello? He’s mine.
Mine?
Before I’m able to finish the thought, there’s a knock on the door, and Lola rushes into the foyer to answer it. I sit completely still, straining to hear their conversation.
“’Evening, and my apologies. I must have the wrong apartment,” he says darkly. I swear I hear the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice as if I’ve lied to him about what apartment I’m in.
“It’s Waylon Brass, right?”
There’s a short pause
“Well . . . ?” Lo asks.
“Fine, but I’m only giving up what I want to and nothing more.”
“I’m not asking for your anal virginity. I’m asking about a man who has you intrigued.”
I roll my eyes at her. “His name is Waylon Brass, but he goes by Wade on a personal level.”
I swear that her jaw drops open like she’s about to swallow a girthy cock. “Excuse me?” she squeaks.
“Uhm, Wade. That’s his name and no, I don’t have any pictures of him.”
“My God, you’re a lucky bitch. Are you serious? Do you know who he is?”
“What?”
“He’s only Chicago’s most eligible bachelor. All of the women would give their ovaries over to have him in bed with them. He’s the owner of Brass Global. The man won’t date anyone, though . . . until now,” she says as she raises a perfectly shaped brow at me.
“We’re not dating, Lola.”
She scoffs. “Yes. Yes, you are, and don’t you dare deny it. He could be good for you.” She grabs my phone and types in Waylon Brass into Google Images. In a second the screen is bursting with images of him. I take my phone back and click on the first picture. He’s wearing a navy suit with a white button-down and no tie. The collar of his shirt is undone, and my heart palpitates.
“That man is dapper as fuck,” she states matter-of-factly.
This man is unquestionably gorgeous. There’s no doubt about it, and my attraction to him is obviously not something I can hide, considering I’m almost hyperventilating at his picture, just thinking about his lips.
“You’re blushing,” Lo yelps and throws her arms around my neck in a hug.
“I am not.” I touch my cheeks, and they are warmer than normal. Damn it.
“Hads, you really like him.”
“I don’t know anything about him, Lola. How can I like him?”
“An instant attraction, that’s how. You may not want to give up your whorish ways, but no one comes into our lives by accident, and we seem to attract what we’re ready for, what we want.”
“I mean, I know I’m physically attracted to him, but that might be it.”
“Nope. I believe that there’s more. Why don’t you give him a chance?”
I lean away from her suffocating hug and shake my head. “I have, and I am, but I feel as if he’s seen inside my soul with just a glance at me—it’s as if he can see straight through me.”
“And? I don’t see the problem with that.”
I pull up my knees and hug them, resting my head on top as I look over at her. “Me either. That’s the issue.”
My phone vibrates, and I swear my heart physically slams against my chest. I pick it up and swipe my finger across the screen: I couldn’t wait. What’s your apartment number?
“Holy shit.”
“What happened?” Lola asks as all of the color drains from my face.
“He’s here.”
“What? Here? Like in the building here?”
“Mmm-hmm. He wants to come up.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? I’ll just say hi and vanish. I just want to see him in person. I never have before, and I’ve heard that his pictures don’t do him any justice.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
I send a short reply to him: 1324. I don’t want him to know just how much his wanting to be with me has affected me. I mean, I just saw him some two hours ago, and I’m desperate to see him again.
I watch as Lo jumps up and runs over to her purse, pulling out her lipstick and applying it at the hallway mirror before fluffing her hair out.
Uh, hello? He’s mine.
Mine?
Before I’m able to finish the thought, there’s a knock on the door, and Lola rushes into the foyer to answer it. I sit completely still, straining to hear their conversation.
“’Evening, and my apologies. I must have the wrong apartment,” he says darkly. I swear I hear the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice as if I’ve lied to him about what apartment I’m in.
“It’s Waylon Brass, right?”
There’s a short pause
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