Chapter 5 : A Second Chance

Simone I felt the butterflies in my stomach as I pulled up to the stunning Spanish villa in the Valley. This was another one of Mandy's listings that she'd been having a hard time moving. Our firm had only recently expanded to the Valley, and most of their usual clients wanted to stay closer to the strip. Michael, however, had no real preference for location. He wanted a gorgeous house; it didn't matter where it was or how much money he had to pay. On the one hand, that was good news for me, but on the other, it made it hard to narrow down his interests. I needed to hit it out of the ballpark so I could get him in escrow. I hoped Michael would love the villa, but more importantly, I hoped he would buy any house I showed him and put me out of my misery. The sooner we had a contract signed, the sooner I could think about anything else. He'd been consuming my thoughts since the moment he pulled up at the first house, and as much as I didn't want to, I couldn't stop fantasizing about how he would feel pressed against me. I bet he was hung like a f*cking horse. I tried to shake off those thoughts as I heard him pull up to the villa. I watched him discreetly as he got out of the car and walked up the long walkway to the house. My memory had not remotely done him justice. He was so tall, taller than ninety percent of all the men on the planet. I briefly wondered if basketball players were given growth hormones, or if they became basketball players because they had such large proportions. He took easy strides with those enormously long legs, and his stance was easy and relaxed. I wish I could mimic it. I felt tension building between my shoulders as I thought about being around him. If I wasn't careful, I might end up in a compromising situation. As he approached the front door, I opened it and waved. I tried to give off the appearance that I was a professional real estate agent and not the equivalent of a horny teenager. As he got closer, the façade became harder to maintain. He shot me a bright smile, and I felt my knees go weak. I wanted to climb him like a sequoia tree. Shit. "Good afternoon, Michael," I said in my most professional tone. He matched it as he said, "It's lovely to see you again, Simone." Something about the way he said it reminded me of a being called into the principal's office. I started giggling despite myself, and soon he was laughing with me. "I'm sorry," he finally said as he caught his breath. "I've been thinking about this a lot, and the way I came onto you the day was whack. I meant what I said, but I respect the hustle. You've got to put your job first, and I really need to find a house. So, can we start over?" I felt a weight releasing in the pit of my stomach, and nodded. Unfortunately, this new arrangement did nothing to lessen my attraction to him. I had the ridiculous thought that I wished I could be temporarily blinded. Of course, that would make navigating the house a lot more difficult. We walked around the property together, and I tried to remember everything I'd studied up on for the last few hours. It had been built in the 1950s by a wealthy oil tycoon. He'd grown up in Spain and wanted a home that reminded him of his childhood. Of course, when the villa was finished, it was likely larger than the entire town he'd grown up in. It was a house only in the most basic sense. There were bedrooms and bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen. Actually, there were two kitchens—one inside that was larger than our real estate office, and one outside by the pool. The house had been remodeled just a few years ago, costing nearly two million dollars. The outside had been restored and expanded, while the inside had basically been gutted. It didn't feel like a villa on the inside; it felt like a five-star resort in Maui. Like the first house we'd seen, it would be great for entertaining. "You could have a pool party and have the caterers serving all the food from this kitchen," I said, as we walked around the outside amenities. The outdoor kitchen was even nicer than my kitchen at home. There was an enormous refrigerator with a glass door, and a gas-range stove top with eight burners. There was a bar with smaller fridges and complicated tubes underneath. This space could easily be turned into a hotel if nobody was interested in living there. Michael gave a long, low whistle. "It's a gorgeous house. I could see myself throwing a lot of parties here," he said, purposely avoiding my gaze. "And if I were ever to start a family… could you imagine growing up in a place like this?" I felt a blush rush to my cheeks. I definitely couldn't imagine growing up here. My entire trailer park could fit in the house. The guest bedroom was larger than my family's double wide. I hummed noncommittally, trying to avoid answering the question. "Let me show you the bedrooms," I said, not really thinking. I immediately wanted to punch myself in the face. We'd been getting along so well, so professionally. Now it sounded like I was trying to seduce him. Our arms brushed as we walked up the impressive staircase to the open landing with several doors. It didn't look very impressive when you first saw it, but as you walked through each room, you realized how stunning this house really was. Each room came with a breathtaking view of the mountains, and they were all large enough to easily sleep an entire family. They also had their own bathrooms, so no one would have to clamor for a chance to shower. "This place is ridiculously huge," Michael said, though his tone sounded like a reverent awe. He wasn't complaining about the size; he seemed to be processing the idea that he could even afford a place this large. "This place is bigger than the apartment complex I grew up in," he said suddenly. It sounded like we'd had pretty similar growing up experiences. I shot him a sympathetic smile. "Trailer park kid," I admitted with a small smile. He looked shocked. "No way!" he said loudly, his booming voice echoing through the bathroom we were currently standing in. He took a moment to look me up and down. "You're wearing designer couture that costs more than my mom's annual salary!" "You're one to talk," I said, feeling playful. "Your car costs more than a four-year college education." "I wouldn't know. I went to school on a basketball scholarship," he said with a laugh. It broke some of the tension I was feeling. He wasn't being accusatory; he was flirting with me. We were both poor kids who grew up to be incredibly successful adults. We could compare stories all day, but at the end of it, we were both wealthier than we ever could have dreamed. We were the kids who had crawled our way out of poverty. My playfulness was replaced with more sexual tension. We made our way from the bathroom back into the bedroom. The realization of our similarities and the undercurrent of attraction was suddenly overwhelming, and I felt dizzy. I felt myself falling, but I never hit the ground. Michael pulled me to him with his strong, large arms. In my haze, I could feel the pressure of his embrace against my waist, and I never wanted to be free of them. Before I could stop myself, I was wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling his face to mine. Unfortunately, he had to bend his neck at a weird angle, and it wasn't the heart-stopping kiss that I'd been expecting. It was just as awkward as my first kiss had been when I was thirteen. I pulled away, feeling like I'd been doused with a bucket of cold water. I definitely needed to be. When I looked up into his eyes, though, I didn't see any hint of embarrassment or shame. They were heavy with a lust that mirrored my own. Rather than pulling away, he sat down on the bed behind him and pulled me between his legs. "This is a little better," he said as we were a lot more level now. He moved one hand from my waist to my face and pulled me back to him. Ah. That was more like it. His lips were so soft, but his kiss was so firm. It was like he'd been training his whole life for this one kiss. I couldn't help but part my lips and nudge him to slide his tongue into my mouth. In this new position, my body was flush against his chest. My nipples grew hard against him, and I knew he could feel them. My tight dress did little to hide my desire. The tops of my thighs were close to his manhood, and I could tell that I wasn't the only one getting hard. Jesus, he was huge. Our kiss got hot and heavy, and my body was screaming at me to pull up the skirt of my dress, set him free of his pants, and ride him until I couldn't move anymore. Then my brain caught up, and I remembered where I was. I was with my real estate client, showing him a home he may potentially buy. More importantly, though, anyone could come in and catch us. There were other agents showing this home, and we could be caught. I could lose my license. I took a big step back and pushed him away at the same time. I couldn't believe we'd just done that. I couldn't believe the way my body was still responding. "I need a minute," I squeaked, as I ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. "Uh, yeah, me too," I heard his deep voice say behind me. I turned on the sink and just listened to the water run as I tried to catch my breath. I looked up into the mirror to see that my hair was a mess. My lipstick was smeared and my cheeks were flushed. I looked like I had been freshly f*cked, and most of me wished I had been. There was no way I could be around him without wanting to jump him. This whole situation was a clusterf*ck. I heard a light tap on the door after a few minutes. "Are you okay, Simone?" his rich voice asked softly. It was so tender; it could melt in my mouth. "Fine," I said with a choked voice. "I'll be out in a minute." I quickly fixed my appearance to look more professional. When I finally emerged, I was sure to keep a good six inches between us. "Michael, I really need this sale," I said, almost desperately. "There's this part of me that still worries I'm just one misstep away from being back in that trailer park." He looked at me so sweetly, and I wanted to step back in his arms, but I resisted. "I totally understand, Simone. Maybe more than anyone in this town. So keep showing me houses, and I'll try my best to keep my hands off of you." "It's not your hands I'm worried about," I grumbled, looking at my hands–hands I seemed to have no control over.