Page 45 of How to Date a Younger Man
It’s only after he’s wrung two mind-blowing orgasms from my body does he let go, emptying himself into the condom with a deep rumbling sound that he breathes into my throat. It’s sexy and also tender. I love how affectionate he is during sex—kissing my lips and my neck and telling me how good I felt. And when it’s over, he doesn’t flee like I expect him to, he just hauls me up onto his chest and holds me until our breathing slows and I’m utterly calm and relaxed.
15
* * *
GRIFFIN
Standing in front of the architectural firm that could make or break me, I feel lighter than expected. That’s partly because I’m not carrying a thirty-pound massage table in with me and a duffel full of oils, lotions, and towels.
The only trace of my previous job is the faint scent of essential oils on my wrists. The earthy smell of eucalyptus always calms me, whether I’m nervous or just overexcited. This time, I’m more excited than nervous because I actually think I have a good shot at this position.
A month ago, I found the listing on a public forum for architects, and then spent the following nights tailoring my résumé and lining up references. Well, except the night I spent in bed with Layne . . . I wasn’t thinking much about job hunting with her calves slung over my shoulders.
As I relive the memory, I feel a slight tingle in my groin. Okay, let’s not get distracted.
A classic Griffin smile has the receptionist in a puddle and me inside the executive’s office in less than ten minutes.
“Jason seems to like you.” Milos Ruben chuckles as he gestures for me to take a seat in the plush office chair across from his desk. He’s a big deal in the architecture world, especially New York. When he set up an office here in LA, I definitely looked him up more than once. “I rarely get a smile like that.”
“I’m sure his coffee was just extra sweet today,” I say with a smirk. I don’t mind the attention I get, whether it be male or female or otherwise. A compliment is welcome, no matter the source.
Milos leans back in his chair, splaying my portfolio across his desk. “I spent the morning looking at this, and I have to say I’m impressed,” he says, pointing to a particular page that I was hoping he’d notice. “I like the teamwork aspect of this design you did for . . .”
“Cleanhouses. It’s a company that specializes in converting abandoned, often condemned buildings into environmentally friendly shelters for the homeless. It was a pro-bono effort of my graduating class that I was lucky enough to take the lead on.”
“That’s impressive,” he says, leaning one elbow on the desk. “You wouldn’t believe how many of our clients ask about . . . what’s it called?”
“Greener solutions.”
“You bet. Twenty years ago, it was all ‘how fast can you get me a design for my project.’ Now, it’s ‘how fast can you get me a design, and how green can it be.’”
“It’s a movement, certainly. That’s where I spent most of my education.”
“Perfect.” Milos grins.
The interview goes on for about twenty minutes longer than it needs to, but I take that as a very good sign. Milos and I have a lot in common, from camping to our interest in self-care. When I tell him about my work as a massage therapist, he nearly shakes my hand.
“I’ve been saying it my whole life,” he says, his voice deep with conviction. “The human body is the same as a house. Even the perfect design needs upkeep.”
On that note, we end the conversation with promises to connect again at the end of the week. Jason waves good-bye as I walk out the double glass doors, feeling like a million bucks.
I nailed that interview. Dying to tell someone, I open my phone and scroll through my contacts.
Layne’s number is at the top of my favorites, but I hesitate. I don’t know exactly where things lie with us . . . we technically haven’t spoken since the other night. I don’t want to rock the boat, especially when the boat holds cargo as precious as my relationship with her.
Instead, I go to my number two, Kristen.
“What’s up, baby brother?” Kristen’s familiar voice fills my ear as I step onto the train platform that will take me back to my apartment.
“I just nailed a job interview, that’s what.”
“At the architecture place? Oh my God, yes!” Kristen cheers, and I can imagine her doing that weird little dance that she does when she’s excited. “So, how soon before you can buy me things?”
“What sort of things?” I ask, humoring her.
“Kidding,” she says with a laugh. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks. Yeah, it feels damn good to have aced this interview. I guess I’ll have to wait and see what’s next. So, what are you up to this week?”
