Subfrenzy (the Subfrenzied Series) by Kimberlee Jane Read Free Book Online

feel strange about having you wait here.”
    “ That's okay. I'll wait in my car, if that makes you feel better.”
    “ It does. I'll be right back.”
    “ Hey, Lane,” I answered her 'H'lo.' “Do you need the car tonight?”
    She groaned loudly. “I'm still two thousand words short for my Philosophy paper. No. I won't need it for the next two days.”
    “ I won't be gone that long.”
    “ You sound nervous. And happy.” I heard her smile. “Did you meet someone?”
    “ Yes, I did meet someone. Again.”
    “ What?”
    “ The same guy who gave me his number a couple days ago. He'll be back in a minute. We just met up again.”
    “ Did you meet him at Rack's ?”
    “ No. If he knows I was there, he hasn't said anything about it. I'll try and help you with the paper when I get back. Sorry, I don't have long to talk.”
    “ Whenever. Check in with me, okay?” 
    “ Of course. Call me if you need anything.”
    “ Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Be safe.”
    Then it was just me and my nerves. I turned the car on for the radio and heat. It took some effort, but I kept myself from staring at the bar door in my side mirror. What was wrong with me, letting myself be so vulnerable in public? Sub frenzy , I heard the word echo in my head. The inner shields were back, but far too late.
    “ Hello again.”
    “ Welcome back,” I replied, rolling my window all the way down.
    “ Want to follow me to my place? There's a private lot. Your car won't be on the street.”
    “ Right. Er, okay then. Lead the way.”
    It only took ten minutes, parking included. His “apartment” was a large townhouse, separate from the actual apartment building. There were four other townhouses nearby, two in light blue, three in white, Quinn's included. We drove past the clubhouse and exercise room, their Olympic sized pool. Corporate-style living. He parked next to the blue sports car I remembered.               Three concrete steps ended at his front door. It opened to a wide hallway. A sturdy, narrow wooden table held mail and opened FedEx envelopes. His kitchen was to the right, done in black and white, with wide, long counters and gleaming metal appliances. 
    “ Make yourself comfortable,” he said, putting his laptop bag down.
    “ Thank you. …where's your bathroom?” I asked, making sure my coat stayed closed.              
    “ Down the hall to your right. The second door.”
    “ Thanks very much. I'll be right back.”
    His bathroom had a jacuzzi. I braced my hands on the sink when I felt how fast my pulse was racing. Fluffy towels were neatly folded on a towel rack instead of thrown over the shower to dry. Everything seemed so organized and clean, elegant in a masculine way. His sink, alone, marble and mahogany... How was I supposed to take my jacket off?!
    I texted Lane the address, as she always did when she went home with someone.
    'Remember what I wore for my “interview?” This guy's in serious evening attire. Emily Post doesn't have a solution to this problem. Do you?'
    'Men like corsets, sexy outfits. Why wouldn't he? You've never cared before.'
    Because he was wearing... Because his apartment- house- was... When I couldn't find a reason, calm found me. 'You're right. ' I breathed a little easier and felt more like myself. 'I think I'm more worried that he's going to say something about Rack's.'
    'What if he does?'
    'I feel really, really uncomfortable?'
    'Say you were going to go, but you didn't. That should end the conversation if you don't want to have it with him.' Then, 'Trust your intuition. I've solved your problem, btw: Ask him for a shirt.'
    'Thanks. Yeah, I might do that.'
     
    “Hi there,” he said, getting up from the couch to meet me. “Can I take your coat for you?”
    “ I-- Yes? Thank you.” I was all-too aware of how lithely he moved and how powerfully professional he looked. Mentally bracing, I unbuttoned my jacket.
    His eyes visibly darkened as he looked at me.