All the Way: A Romancing Manhattan Novel Read online

  “I haven’t been in that café yet,” he replies, and I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Are you angling for an invitation to go shopping?”

  “I must not be doing a good job of it,” he says, and then scoots back in his chair and guides me into his lap. He buries his face in my neck and takes a deep breath. “Fuck, you smell good.”

  “So do you.”

  “I’d like to go shopping with you this weekend.”

  “Okay.”

  He smiles against my skin and drags his hand down my back to my ass.

  “As much as I want to carry you to your bedroom and sink inside you for the rest of the night, I have some work to do. Do you mind if we sit on your couch and I work for a bit?”

  “Not at all.” I stand and clear our dinner dishes away. “The script Jeffrey told us about was waiting for me when I got home, along with the music score, so I’d like to start reading through it.”

  “Excellent, we can work together,” he says, and takes his laptop out of his briefcase, along with a folder, and moves into the living room, sits on the couch, and gets right to work.

  “Would you like a bottle of water?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I join him, with waters and my script, and sit next to him. He’s immediately drawn into his world of acquisitions and mergers while I open the script from Jeffrey.

  This is nice, just being together. No expectations to entertain each other, or go do something. Rather, just living our lives together.

  It feels comfortable. Normal.

  Domesticated.

  I grin as I begin reading and quickly fall into a new world.

  She’s stunning.

  I mean, she’s my best friend, and I already knew that, but sitting here in the dark watching her act and sing is just always such a joy.

  Sasha has her script in hand, only referencing it occasionally, as she and her castmate work through the scene. The director calls out from his seat in the first row, and Sasha follows the direction beautifully.

  She and I moved to New York a month apart from each other, and were both backup dancers in the production of The Lion King. We became fast friends, and were even roommates for a while. In a business where it’s hard to know who to trust, it’s great to have a best friend who not only gets it, but also has your back.

  She doesn’t know I’m here. I’m content to sit and watch for a couple of hours, and when they call for a lunch break, someone whispers in her ear.

  “London?” she shrieks, covering her eyes from the lights, trying to see me. “Where the fuck are you?”

  I walk down to the stage and grin when she runs down to meet me, wrapping me in the tightest hug on record.

  “Oh my God, you’re here! You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  “That’s because it’s what’s called a surprise.” She plants a solid kiss on my cheek. “You’re not usually this affectionate.”

  “Shut up, you almost died.” She sniffles a bit, then pulls back to see me. “And I haven’t seen you since you took off for that island.”

  “It’s off Massachusetts, not Australia,” I remind her, and brush a tear off of her cheek. “I wasn’t far away.”

  “It felt far away. I have two hours for lunch. Let’s get out of here.”

  She scoops up her handbag, links her arm in mine, and we march out of the theater.

  “What are you hungry for?” she asks.

  “I haven’t had good pizza in forever.”

  She stares at me with wide eyes. “Me neither. And I shouldn’t have any today.”

  “Live a little.”

  “You’re such a bad influence.”

  “Which is code for Yes, London, I’d love to get pizza.”

  “Well, duh.”

  We giggle as we walk the few blocks to our favorite pizza joint, place our order, and find a booth to settle in.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “Me too. I needed to be at the beach to get better. The city was stressing me out.”

  “I know.”

  “But now that I feel better, being home is awesome.”

  The waiter delivers my two slices and her one slice with a side salad.

  “I can’t believe you’re eating pizza.”

  “I had a burger for dinner last night,” I inform her. “And you know what? I might have another one tomorrow.”

  “I mean, I don’t want to sound like a bitch, but how? How can you eat like that after you didn’t for so long?”

  “I don’t eat this way all the time,” I reply honestly. “I’ve just missed the food we can get in the city. And before you say it, I know I’ve gained a little weight.”

  “Well, you could barely walk for a long time, so that’s to be expected,” Sasha says logically.

  “I’m going back to the gym starting tomorrow. And I’m going to try a dance class too.”

  “Do you think you’ll audition for something?”

  I chew my pizza, thinking about the script sitting in my condo.

  “Maybe, but not for a while. I’m not in shape for it, and frankly, I don’t know if I want to go back to the rigorous lifestyle, Sash.”

  “Ever?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not twenty anymore, and working from six in the morning until midnight just doesn’t appeal to me the way it once did. My body isn’t the same. Yes, I’ve recovered from the injury, but I just don’t know if I want to put myself through it again.”

  “I know, it’s a lot of work. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I know, and that’s why I’m talking about it with you. I’ve assumed from day one in the hospital that Broadway was over for me.”

  “Which is silly.”

  “No. It’s not.” I shrug. “It’s never been about the fame for me. It’s the work. But you know what? It’s been amazing to take some time off. To sleep in, to eat pizza without beating myself up for it later. I kind of like the new curves. But I can’t do that and live the lifestyle I have to live to be at the top of my game for the theater.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “Well, for now, I’m going to live my life and eat pizza. Because life’s too short to do otherwise. And I saw Jeffrey Cameron a couple of weeks ago.”

  “In London,” she guesses. “I was worried about that trip.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? Because Finn is still sort of a stranger. What if he took you there to kill you and throw you in the Thames?”

  “Hi, overreactor,” I reply, and roll my eyes. “He’s not a stranger to me.”

  “He’s a stranger to me. Anyway, what did Jeffrey say?”

  I quickly tell her about the movie that Jeffrey wants me to consider, and she’s smiling and clapping before I get through the story.

  “You’re so movie-star material.”

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  “I know, it’s the work. But it’s good work, London. And he’s right, this could be the perfect way to get into films. You have the talent and the love for it. It oozes out of your pores.”

  “Ew.”

  She rolls her eyes. “And you’re right, it wouldn’t be as taxing on you physically. There would still be long days, and choreography, but it’s different.”

  “I think I could do it.”

  “You bet your sweet, naturally skinny ass you could.”

  I bite my lip. “So, I think I’m going to L.A. in a couple of weeks.”

  “Atta girl. Now, when do I get to meet Mr. Wonderful?”

  Chapter Nine

  ~Finn~

  We’re shopping on Fifth Avenue in the heart of Manhattan on a Friday afternoon. People walk briskly past us, traffic is loud and constant, the sun is out, and London was absolutely right.

  Shopping with her is no joke.

  We’ve visited Bergdorf Goodman, where she tried on clothes for about an hour before deciding on three things.

  Only three things. And she wouldn’t let me
buy them for her, which didn’t please me.

  We just left Louis Vuitton, which is three stories of bags, shoes, clothes, and jewelry. Again, she compared and agonized, and then left without anything at all, despite my offer to buy whatever she wanted.

  “I’d like to go into Chanel,” she says, and points to the building ahead.

  “Of course,” I reply, and guide her across the street, my hand on the small of her back. Once inside, we’re greeted by a woman named Alana.

  “It’s so good to see you, Ms. Watson,” she says with a smile.

  “Hi, Alana. It’s good to be here! What have I missed lately?”

  “Just wait until you see this black leather Deauville tote.” Alana walks into the back and returns with a large black handbag, Chanel written in silver grommets on the side. “Isn’t it just divine?”

  “Oh, I do love this. And you know me, I enjoy a tote.” She props it on her shoulder and stares at herself in the mirror. “But this one is a little big. It makes me look tiny.”

  “You are tiny,” I remind her, but then hold my hands up in surrender when she just narrows her eyes at me. “I like it.”

  “We have it in a smaller size,” Alana says helpfully, and pulls it out of a black protective bag. “Is this better?”

  “Oh, it is. I like it a lot.” London sets it down and bites her lip as she stares at it. “I’ve also been looking for something in pink.”

  Alana shows her several options in different shades of pink, and London sets them all, including the smaller black tote, out before her and purses her lips, as if she’s giving this great deliberation.

  “I’ll buy them all for you,” I offer. There’s no need for her to have to choose.

  “Right.” She laughs, but I shake my head.

  “Seriously. You don’t have to choose, just take them all.”

  “That’s not how this works,” she says with a frown. “What’s the fun in shopping if you’re just going to buy everything? I have to consider each one, weigh the pros and cons, and then narrow it down.”

  I look over at Alana. “When she narrows it down, I’ll purchase whatever she wants.”

  “No, he won’t.” That frown is still on London’s gorgeous face. “Can I speak with you privately, please?”

  “Of course.” We walk away and she turns to me, clearly unhappy.

  “I don’t need you to buy me all of the bags. Or shoes. Or anything.”

  “I know you don’t need me to. I want to.”

  She shakes her head. “You don’t get it. I didn’t ask you to come shopping with me so you could buy everything I want. I just wanted you to join me because it’s fun.”

  “And it’s fun for me to buy you things.”

  “Listen to me.” She steps closer to me and takes my hand in hers, her blue eyes almost pleading with me. “Please don’t do this.”

  “Okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I won’t buy you anything.”

  I don’t understand her at all. Don’t most women want you to buy them beautiful things?

  “I’m not going to take anything today,” London tells Alana, whose face falls in disappointment. “But I’ll be back soon when I make a decision.”

  We walk out of the store and across the street to Tiffany.

  “I’m ready for some lunch,” she says. “And I’d like to try this new café.”

  “Sounds fine to me.”

  We’re seated, and I have to admit the space is beautiful. The furniture and walls are done in the signature Tiffany blue, with accents of the same color throughout the room.

  “This is gorgeous,” London says. “They did a beautiful job.”

  We’re served quickly and efficiently, and the food is delicious.

  “Have you made any decisions?” I ask her as we walk out of Tiffany, our stomachs full.

  “There are several things that I’ll go back for,” she says, and I notice right away that she’s slightly limping.

  “You’ve been on your feet too long.”

  “What?” She glances up at me, and then shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”

  “London, you’re limping. You’re not fine.”

  “I am,” she insists. “I’m perfectly capable of finishing the day.”

  “Why?” I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take her shoulders in my hands, making her look up at me. “Why would you do that? We live in this city, London. We can go shopping anytime we want.”

  “I don’t want to go another day, I want to go today.” She thrusts her chin in the air and glares at me.

  Rather than reply, I pull my cell phone out and call my driver, telling him to pick us up on the corner of Fifth and Fifty-Sixth.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she demands. I see our car turn the corner, coming toward us, and I lean in to press my lips against London’s ear.

  “I heard you, but you’re acting like a spoiled brat, and I need to get you in the back of that limo so no one can see me when I spank your ass.”

  She gasps and looks up at me in shock when the car comes to a stop at the curb. I hold the door open for her, and once we’re settled inside, I close the partition between us and the driver, and confident that the tinted windows conceal us from anyone outside of the car, I do exactly what I threatened on the sidewalk.

  I turn her away from me and land a swat on her perfect little ass.

  “What the fuck, Finn?”

  “Next time you won’t have pants on.”

  “You don’t get to just spank me.”

  “And you don’t get to wear yourself out to the point of limping just because you’re fucking stubborn. You’re hurting yourself for no reason, and I won’t have it. I’ll put up with a lot, but I won’t have you hurt.”

  She seems to lose her fire for a moment, processing my words.

  “I’m a grown woman,” she says.

  “Don’t I know it,” I reply. “I can’t keep my fucking hands off you, sweetheart.”

  “Well, you’re keeping them off me now,” she points out. “You’re over there with your arms crossed.”

  “Because I don’t want to be gentle with you right now.”

  “I’m not feeling particularly gentle myself.”

  I can’t take it anymore. Her fire-filled eyes and sassy mouth are too much. I reach for her, pulling her into my lap and holding her face still while I kiss the fuck out of her. She’s gripping on to my shoulders, taking everything I’m giving her and tossing it right back to me.

  “Get your pants off,” I growl, and she doesn’t miss a beat. She slips off my lap, shimmies out of the tight jeans and her panties, and then straddles me. “And if you think you’re controlling even one second of this, you have another think coming.”

  “Prove it,” she says, panting hard. She’s thrown down the gauntlet and I intend not only to take it, but to destroy it.

  I quickly turn us so her ass is on the seat, pull it to the edge, and spread her legs wide, diving down to devour her. She cries out and grips on to my hair, but I pull away.

  “Put your hands over your head.”

  She immediately does as she’s told, and I reward her by slipping two fingers inside her and pressing my tongue to her hard clit, making her squirm.

  “If you move your hands, this stops.”

  “Bossy.”

  I grin and pull my fingers out, lick them clean, then suck her lips into my mouth and make her crazy. Her hips are bucking, her back is arching, but her hands haven’t moved.

  “Good girl.”

  I back away and flip her over, mindful of her leg, bend her over the seat, and with my lips pressed to her ear, I slide inside her, making us both sigh in pleasure.

  But this isn’t the time for easy, or sighs of pleasure.

  I want her to fucking scream.

  I pound her hard, loving the sound of flesh hitting flesh. I raise a hand and slap her ass, not enough to make it pink, but hard enough to get her attention.

  She glances back at me, her eyes w
ide and glassy and her mouth open in silent ecstasy. She reaches back for my hip, but I take her wrist in my hand and pin it to her back, using it as leverage as I thrust, harder and harder, until I feel her muscles begin to twitch and milk my pulsing dick.

  “Take it,” I growl. “Take that orgasm, London.”

  She shakes her head, but breathes out, “Oh yes. Fuck.” And with her face tucked in her free arm, she comes magnificently, crying out and pushing back on me, until I have no choice but to follow her over.

  “We’ve reached your building, sir.”

  “I forgot he was here,” she mumbles, still bent over the seat.

  I push the button for the intercom. “Drive around the block twice, please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That should give us time to get it together,” I say to London as I pull her back into my arms. “Are you always so infuriating?”

  “I just wanted to shop,” she murmurs. “But if it leads to this, then yes. I’m infuriating every day.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon, naked, in my bed watching movies on cable. I wanted her off that leg, and naked.

  I got what I wanted.

  She’s been quiet, but I assume that’s because she hasn’t felt well.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something for your leg?” I ask for the sixth time.

  “I don’t need it,” she insists.

  “You’re stubborn.”

  “Hi, pot, I’m kettle.” She scowls at me. “My leg wasn’t too bad for me to shop. I would have told you if it was. What am I going to do if it throbs when I’m working, Finn? Tell the director to call it quits for the day?”

  “If you can’t work, it’s okay,” I reply without thinking. “I’ll take care of you.”

  She sits and stares at me for a full five seconds, and then buries her face in a pillow and screams.

  “I guess that’s a no?”

  “Oh my God, stop talking.” She stands and stomps into the bathroom. She’s in there for a long time, and just when I’m about to go in after her, she opens the door and leans on the doorjamb.

  “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

  “You don’t need me to, no.”

  “But I do need more food.”

  “How about if I run you a hot bath and I’ll order Chinese for when you’re done?”