Getting Down Page 2

  The mother contingent is making Amie a little crazy. Every time I bring up the wedding these days she seems to need a glass of wine followed by two hours of hot yoga.

  “We need to throw some kind of charity event in addition to the year-end Christmas fundraiser. Father’s indicated there’s money we need to spend and this would be the perfect way to accomplish that, don’t you think? It could be some kind of masquerade ball so you girls can get dressed up.” He gestures to Amie and me. “Although this is certainly not appropriate. Anyway”—he sips his scotch—“we’ll figure out a charity we want to support. Of course it needs to be something that will get us good press. What’s relevant right now? I thought I read something recently about some kind of epidemic in one of those impoverished countries. We could raise relief money for that. Anything with babies or animals would make for excellent media coverage going into the holiday season.”

  It’s always about press with Armstrong. Although I suppose since his family runs one of the biggest media corporations in the country, he’s always going to be concerned with public perception and what will pull at people’s heartstrings the most.

  Bane leans on the counter, and while the tic in his left cheek indicates his annoyance, I can also see that he’s contemplating it, likely for very different reasons. He’s capable of looking at something from both a business and PR perspective, without it being all about the public image. Bancroft’s altruism is the reason I’m living in his condo with him right now.

  Bancroft used to be a professional athlete before he started working for his father. The Mills family comes from a long line of hotel magnates.

  I’m so focused on Bane that it seems I may have missed some of the conversation.

  “Where do you think would be a good place to hold a Halloween Ball?” Amie asks.

  I suppose if they’re making it an event it can’t be here, which is what I’d hoped for. If it was the small party I’d been planning in my head it would be one thing, but a ball means hundreds of guests. I slap the counter and startle Armstrong. “What about one of the New York hotels?”

  Bancroft looks at me. There’s lust in his sexy eyes. I’m not sure if it’s the costume or my awesome idea that’s making him so hot for me, but either way I plan to capitalize on that later. “The Concord.”

  “Oh my God, yes.” I might moan the words. That hotel is stunning: the rooms lavish, the spa services unparalleled. I clear my throat in hopes of making my reaction less awkward. “The Inception Ballroom would be perfect, wouldn’t it?”

  “It would.” He nods his agreement.

  The Inception Ballroom is antiquated, with burgundy velvet drapes, black carpets, and gold accents. Very Dracula. The perfect location for a Halloween soirée.

  “And we could stay the night.”

  “On the penthouse floor.” Bancroft’s grin is full of dirty promises. Those rooms are incredible. Full Jacuzzi tubs, showers that can fit a dozen people comfortably, king-size poster beds, a separate living room with a massive couch, endless amenities. I’ve never had a chance to stay there, because we live in New York, but this would be the perfect opportunity.

  “I’ll talk to my father tomorrow to make sure the funds are there, and you can talk to yours about the ballroom,” Armstrong says to Bancroft.

  “And we can plan the costumes and the theme!” I say enthusiastically. This is a little different than my original idea, but it could still be fun. As long as I get to dress up and we get to stay in one of the penthouse suites, I’m all for it.

  Armstrong shifts his gaze from me to Amie and slaps at the bat hanging just above his head, which keeps brushing his hair when it swings back and forth. “I can give you full control over the project. You do well on the planning side of things.”

  “Um. Okay?” She looks taken aback.

  I am too, because I think that was an actual compliment. “It has to be classy though, so the costumes can’t be anything like this.” And he just ruined it.

  “Of course.” Amie nods dumbly, but under her shocked, plastered-on smile is a glimmer of excitement and mischief.

  “And I can help out, of course,” I say.

  Armstrong has absolutely no idea what party planning looks like when Amie has full control. We’re going to have so much fun. The last time we planned a Halloween party we were in high school and her parents had gone away for a spa trip to Hawaii.

  It didn’t go quite as well as we’d anticipated, what with half of the school showing up. Three guys got into a fight over her that night. In their defense, they all thought she was dating them. Amie had a lot of boys wrapped around her finger in high school. Even in college actually. She left a trail of broken hearts and pining boys behind her.

  This party is going to have a killer budget. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll have a couple of Amie’s ex-boyfriends in attendance. I can think of one or two from a few years back who might be on the fringe of our social circle—and unlikely to have a criminal record, or at least one that has already been expunged. Either way, I don’t think it will hurt Armstrong to know there have been others before him who fell all over themselves for the chance to date her. It might shake things up a little.

  Bancroft’s cell phone buzzes on the counter beside his hand. One of his older brothers’ names flashes across the screen. Bane frowns and pulls up the message.

  At the same time, there’s a knock at the door, followed by the sound of a code being punched in. “I hope you’re not fucking!” Lexington calls out as he steps into the foyer.

  Lexington, better known as Lex, is two years older than Bancroft.

  “Damn,” Lex says as he takes in the scene before him. His brow pulls down when he sees me and then shifts to Amie in her tiny red shorts and her see-through T-shirt. “If this is some kind of weird role-play shit, I want in.”

  Bancroft snorts. Sometimes when Lex and Bancroft get together the conversation degrades quickly. I still haven’t quite figured him out, but I like him a lot, even though he seems a little guarded at times. He’s a bit of a cynic and I’ve gotten the impression that he has a player reputation. Whether that’s true or not, I’m unsure. Right now it looks like he’d love to play with my best friend. Too bad she’s marrying his cousin in a few months.

  “Production was getting rid of a bunch of old costumes so I made Amie try some on.”

  “In front of you?” The corner of Lex’s mouth curves up as he looks Amie over.

  She drops her head, hiding her blush, and a smile.

  Armstrong is suddenly all over Amie, which is very unusual. He’s not openly affectionate most of the time. Unless he’s goosing her or something. He wraps his arm around her waist and whispers something in her ear. Based on her expression, she doesn’t appreciate his comment.

  Bancroft grabs Lex by the back of the neck. “Don’t flirt with my girlfriend unless you want your nose broken, brother.” He’s mostly kidding. Lex and I get along just fine. And I don’t think I’m his type. But then again, I’m not one hundred percent on what his type actually is.

  Lex elbows Bancroft in the side. “I’m not here to steal your woman.” His gaze shifts to Armstrong, who’s busy adjusting Amie’s shirt. “I came for something else.”

  Chapter 2: Hanging

  Amie

  I’m trying to keep my eyes on my glass of wine, but I can feel Lex looking at Armstrong. Or maybe it’s me. Which is understandable, considering I’m not wearing much of anything. Armstrong is annoyed. The way his fingers keep flexing on my side tell me this. His insistence that I change is hint number two. He’s been annoyed since he walked into the bathroom.

  I’m very familiar with Armstrong’s annoyed face. His lips thin until they almost disappear. He’s also on his second scotch. Or maybe it’s his third. I kind of want to keep pushing his buttons to see if it will have the desired impact. Which is me coming back to his place tonight for some sex. It’s Monday, though. He has squash in the morning, so I typically don’t stay over on Mondays. Although,
in a few months that’s going to change. When we get married I’ll sleep beside him every night of my life. Hopefully once the stress of the wedding is over and we’re occupying the same living space, we’ll go back to having the same amount of sex we did when we first started dating.

  I played it safe with Armstrong, knowing his family background. We went out six times before we had very sweet, very missionary sex. It was very reminiscent of my first time, although it lasted a little longer.

  “You want to stay for a drink?” Bancroft asks Lexington.

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to crash your party. I just need the Beacon files and I’m off.”

  “What do you need those for?” Bancroft taps the counter as he regards his brother.

  They definitely look related. They’re both tall and broad. If Bancroft is Thor, Lexington is more like Captain America. Lex is a little narrower and maybe an inch or so shorter, but then Bancroft’s previous career as a professional rugby player gave him the build of a superhero. Lex is similar, but in lieu of a head of curls, his dark hair is straight; a crisp part and product keep it tamed. The sides are neatly trimmed and short. He must’ve gotten a haircut recently. It was longer the last time I saw him. Beyond that he has perfectly straight teeth to go with his perfectly straight nose and his manicured nails—yes, I noticed those. And every time I’ve ever seen him he’s been impeccably dressed.

  Armstrong’s hand slides down my hip and cups my ass cheek. His lips are next to my ear. “Sweetheart, you should really consider changing out of this. It’s not appropriate for other men to see you dressed so provocatively.”

  I grit my teeth and say nothing, aware that there’s some kind of tension between Armstrong and Lex. I have no idea what it’s about, but every time Lex is at an event we’re attending, Armstrong does everything he can to avoid him. Unfortunately, under these circumstances that’s not possible. I’m not sure why they don’t like each other.

  Armstrong’s worry over my state of dress seems irrelevant since Bancroft finds whatever files he’s looking for right away. “Sorry for interrupting,” Lex says, then gestures to Ruby. “This is badass, by the way.”

  He shifts his gaze to me and Armstrong, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Amalie, especially after you and Ruby have been playing dress-up.”

  Bancroft coughs and gives him the elbow.

  The smile becomes almost a sneer and Lexington tips his chin at Armstrong. “Later, cousin. We should schedule a round of golf before they close the course for the year.”

  “We should,” Armstrong says tightly.

  “I look forward to beating your ass on the green.”

  Armstrong makes a displeased sound. “Unlikely. I think it’s been proven time and time again that I always come out on top.” He strokes my arm and when he reaches the hem of my shorts he drags his finger along my skin. I shiver.

  What the hell is going on?

  Lex’s smile drops and his eyes narrow, his cheek ticking. “That’s only because you play dirtier than me.”

  Bancroft clears his throat. “You need anything else, Lex?”

  Lex flashes his brother a dark smile and raises the folder before slipping it under his arm. His hands are huge. It must be a Mills man trait. One I’m not sure why exactly I’m noticing. “I got what I came for.”

  As soon as Lex leaves, Armstrong goes back to being his usual self. I really don’t understand what the issue is there, but Armstrong can be very competitive, about pretty much everything. I want to ask what that whole standoff was about, but I don’t think I’m going to get any kind of answer that makes sense, and I don’t want to put a negative spin on the evening, so I leave it alone.

  Twenty minutes after Lex leaves, I change back into my normal clothes and wash all the makeup off my face. Ruby on the other hand stays in her fairy outfit and eats the Italian takeout delicately so as not to mess with her glitter lips. I don’t want to be jealous of my best friend and her relationship, but sometimes I am.

  I have a feeling the second we leave those two are going to get their freak on. And I doubt she’s going to change out of her costume or wash her makeup off.

  I know an awful lot about my best friend’s sex life. In the past I would’ve been just as free with mine. Except ever since I’ve been with Armstrong there’s not as much excitement to share. But then I guess that’s to be expected since I’m settling down. No more Anarchy Amie on the prowl. Not like when we were in high school and college and I went a little wild.

  That kind of reckless free-thinking can’t last forever. And discretion is far more important than hanging-from-the-rafters sex.

  Although we did have a bit of that, back in the beginning. Once we had sex in a coatroom at a huge corporate function. That night I moved from date to girlfriend status. A few months later he took me on a trip to Paris and proposed under the Eiffel Tower with an orchestra playing behind him. It was incredibly romantic. We had a beautiful dinner and then we had sweet engagement sex. That’s what sex with Armstrong is like: sweet and polite.

  Over time I’m sure that will change, that I’ll be able to persuade him to get a little dirty with me. And that he’ll learn what’s guaranteed to make me come. Sometimes I take a long time to orgasm with him, and he gets frustrated. Armstrong likes to be good at everything. So occasionally I fake it and take care of the situation later, after he’s asleep. That’s been happening more frequently as of late, but with the wedding coming up, we’ve both been under stress, so sex has taken a backseat.

  At nine thirty Armstrong calls for the car. He’s been touchier than usual tonight, so maybe if I play it right, I’ll be able to stay at his place and get some relief for the tension that’s been building since Friday.

  I hug Ruby, who’s still dressed in her costume. Her makeup is still nearly perfect. We make plans to have lunch later in the week before Armstrong ushers me out the door and into the elevator. The car is waiting for us when we arrive at lobby level.

  We’ve been in the car for three minutes. I glance at Armstrong, then at the tinted divider. We’re isolated from the driver. He can’t see or hear us. We have at least twenty minutes in the car together, and that’s a conservative estimate based on there not being any traffic. But this is New York. There’s always traffic.

  Armstrong is frowning while checking emails on his phone. I unbuckle my seat belt and slide closer.

  He looks up. “That’s unsafe. You should put your seat belt back on.” Armstrong is very concerned with safety. He drives no more than five miles over the speed limit. Once I drove his car and he nearly had a heart attack. I wasn’t going that fast.

  I drag a fingernail down the side of his neck. “Ivan is a very safe driver. It’s fine.”

  He eyes me. “What’re you doing?”

  “I was thinking, maybe I can come back to your place tonight instead of going home.”

  He appears confused. “But it’s Monday. I have squash in the morning. It’s why you don’t stay over on Mondays.”

  I’m not sure whether to laugh or roll my eyes. “We could live on the edge. You could miss squash tomorrow.”

  “It’s too late for me to cancel, and if you stay neither of us is going to get enough sleep.”

  Always so pragmatic about everything. I sink to the floor with the intention of giving him some incentive for a Monday sleepover.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I go for his belt.

  He glances up at the divider that keeps us separate from the driver. “Amalie, we’re in the car.”

  “I know.” I give him my naughtiest grin and pull down the zipper. Slipping my hand in the fly I find him already semi-hard. It shouldn’t take much to get him excited. I pop a couple of buttons on my blouse and push his boxers down.

  He must’ve decided he’s not so concerned about my safety anymore, because he spreads his legs wider and brushes my hair out of the way. I try to
stay in the moment while I’m pleasuring my fiancé, but my mind starts to wander to the Halloween party we may be planning. In my head I start creating the guest list, reviewing cocktail options, whether it will be a seated dinner or just appetizers. Soon enough I’m being given the complimentary warning that an orgasm is imminent.

  Afterward, I crawl up his body, thinking maybe we’ll make out for a bit en route to his place, but he turns his head and gives me his cheek when I go in for a kiss. I make my way over to his mouth, but he keeps turning away. “Oh, no, no. Not after you’ve—” He purses his lips and shakes his head.

  “Not after I’ve what?”

  “You need to brush your teeth first.”

  “What?”

  “You have my cum in your mouth.”

  “I swallowed it.” I stick out my tongue. “See. No cum.”

  He makes another face. This one is disapproving. “Amalie.”

  I straddle his lap and tug on his tie, bringing my lips to his ear. “Come on, Armstrong, I’m horny. I wanna fuck.”

  He puts his hands on my hips and makes another disapproving sound. Dammit. That wasn’t the right thing to say. Armstrong isn’t turned on by my potty mouth, as he calls it. I keep hoping if I say things like that he’s going to turn me over his lap, flip up my skirt, and spank my naughty ass. I should know better. It’s a turn off and I’ve ruined any chance of getting a reciprocal orgasm.

  I mutter an apology and flop down in the seat beside him, buttoning my blouse. I really need to find a way to loosen him up. In addition to the wedding preparation, he’s been under a lot of stress at work with the changes happening at his family’s media empire. They’ve been talking about a merger with a rival corporation. I shouldn’t be upset about this, but after spending an entire evening watching Bancroft and Ruby make sex eyes at each other I’m seriously wound up and in need of some release. Not to mention how territorial Armstrong seemed to become when Lex showed up.

  When Ivan pulls up in front of my apartment building several minutes later I don’t ask about sleeping over again or invite Armstrong up, because he’s already fallen asleep post-orgasm. At least I have the ability to take care of my own problem. God bless the sex toy industry and multiple orgasms.