Page 81 of Sticky Fingers
But it will be worth it.
I just know it.
Three.
That’s how many nights in a row I can’t sleep. And it isn’t easy to function with no fucking sleep, that much I can tell you. It feels as though I’m starting to lose my fucking mind.
Why? Just look at what happened earlier today.
I took the elevator to the main floor, and my eyes were immediately drawn to Sonia across the lobby. Her firm backside drew my eyes like a fucking magnet. I’m immediately hard as a rock.
Her skin-tight yoga pants and the matching tank top were black with bright highlights, and she looked like she just came back from a workout with her hair up in a pony tail.
Fuck, I wanted to go over to her and just grab her from behind. If I put my hand over her mouth, I could take her up to my room and tie her to my bed. These musings kept me occupied for about thirty seconds, while I stood there like an idiot two steps out of the elevator.
She wasn’t facing me, so I had plenty of time to fantasize about her before she swung around.
It was then that it dawned on me she was talking to a tall man standing next to her. Who the fuck is that, right? He had his back mostly to me, too, and they seemed to be utilizing the mail center countertop to lean against.
My heart sped up, and I could feel the flush as my neck and face turned red in anger. Who the fuck was that guy? Were they workout buddies or some happy horseshit?
I was frozen in place as the guy turned and headed for the door. Even after he left, it took me another second or two before I unglued my feet from the floor. I followed him out.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Sonia pick up a bag with Hot Wok written on the side and head towards the elevator I just left.
Delivery? Could that be all it was?
Fuck! The ball of tension in my gut loosened a bit, but I still turned left outside the door and followed the delivery guy to his car to confirm. He had the stick-on signs and everything, and when he pulled away from his spot, I slowed and sunk against the building next door.
Yeah, that’s right, I’m a fucking mess.
The things that were running through my mind—what I would have done to him if he had been seeing Sonia—well…let’s just say it wasn’t good. He wouldn’t have been walking tomorrow, that’s a fucking certainty.
Fuck, I know. I’ve to get ahold of myself.
I know I have it bad.
Duh. I asked the woman to fucking marry me.
I’m starting to freak out, you know? What if I fucking lose her? Another week and I should be homefree, but this isn’t good.
She wouldn’t be dating anyone already, right? She said she loved me. I have to keep believing that that means something.
If I do nothing, she’ll maybe eventually get over me, and that will take time. There’s a risk of that happening. I mean it could take forever or not happen at all if we truly are the soulmates I think we are.
Of course, I have no fucking intention of letting her get over me.
But that does buy me some time.
Or so I fucking hope.
Ten.
Ten simple signatures and that’s it.
Ryan, one of my lawyers, passes me the last form to sign. Hastily scribbling my name, I pass it back.
“Is that it? For real?”
