Free Out of Her Comfort Zone by Nicky Penttila Page A

life.
    After she stilled, spent, he released her foot, setting it back against her knee, and lapped at her sodden vulva. “I love how every part of you is so, so sensitive.”
    “You do it to me.”
    He lifted his head. His smile shone through even her half-lidded eyes. “Good.” Something caught his eye. He leaned over her legs to look at the floor. “Your phone is blinking.”
    Wasn’t it always. “What color?”
    “Pink?” He was right to be surprised. Blue was family, green work, purple social. Pink was rare.
    “My personal calendar. See what it is.”
    He rolled over her legs, somehow copping a feel of her ass on the way, and back again. “Password?”
    “Shape. Delta, starts at six.”
    He got it on the first try. “Not very secure. ‘Condo’?”
    She frowned, and then remembered. “Right. It’s September again. I have to decide whether to renew my tenant’s lease.”
    He clicked the screen dark and rolled onto his side. Head propped on a hand, he searched her eyes. “I thought you moved in with me 21 months ago.”
    “Exactly right, of course. But if I want my condo back, I have to give the tenant at least two months’ notice.” It was an easy decision. Things had been going well with Elliot for months; they hadn’t even fought in more than half a year.
    But he frowned. “So, time for a change?”
    Emily’s body went from giddily drowsy to panic in less than half a second. Was he unhappy and she hadn’t noticed, again? That’s what they’d fought about the last time. She swallowed, hard. “Change?”
    Elliot swiveled upright, his feet on the floor. He hadn’t tanned in years, yet there was still a slight line from his bathing trunk from summers past. She reached out to trace it. He couldn’t be dumping her, could he?
    “We need coffee for this.” Slipping on his cotton yoga pants, he stretched to standing.
    Coffee? Not wine? Or a shot of tequila? Emily sat up, shuffling her hands through the tangles in her hair. This didn’t sound like a break-up. Coffee was for Sunday mornings, just them, shouting out something worthy they’d read in the papers. She loved how he still got paper newspapers on Sunday.
    Wait . If not a break-up, then something else? Something permanent?
    She crunched her legs, squeezing them tight to her and resting her chin on her knees. Was she ready? Was two years enough? Was this a forever thing? Was anything a forever thing?
    Her heart pounded, yes, yes YES. Ready, ready, READY .
    A smart businesswoman, she’d always done her due diligence. She knew all about Elliot, from his past to his potential, and while different than hers, they meshed. They did. And like a good businesswomen Emily knew when to take a measured risk. Marrying Elliot would be the least risky thing she did all year.
    And, to be honest, she had thought he was on the verge of an escalation. He was a little on the romantic side, though, so she didn’t expect any action on that front until the winter holidays. Perhaps he was jumping his gate, a pre-emptive bid.
    Could it be the idea that she’d move back into her condo that set him off? She couldn’t believe it. He was even more due-diligence than she. It was his job, as one of the most successful venture capitalists in Silicon Valley, but it was also his way in life. No way a phone message could have derailed his careful planning.
    Or could it?
    She scooted off the bed to pull on some clothes. She absolutely was not having any sort of “change” discussion in the nude. Who knew, coffee might be thrown. Stranger things had happened.
    As she stepped out of the bathroom, though, Elliot reappeared, near-panic on his face.
    “The store didn’t deliver today, and I’ve looked all over.” His face looked thunderous, but with panic.
    “We are out of coffee.”
    ****
    The industrial-design coffee shop north of
    Market Street
    was half-empty for once. As usual, along with the croissants and coffees, Emily took her first sip as Elliott pulled out his