I smirk at him. “I never said that, Tiger. In fact, as long as you know whatever this is between us is just for fun—the physical part anyway—I want you to kiss me again. Right. Now.” And to make me forget about everything else in my life for the night, I silently add.
He doesn’t disappoint.
Chapter Thirteen
Six Months Later…
“ANY CHANCE I might see you for dinner tonight? And have you at least considered going to the charity with me tomorrow evening?” Pierce's fingers pause from buttoning up his shirt and slide under my chin to tilt it up so that he has my full attention.
He’s been an amazing friend to me these past few months, and we’ve had this causal fling going on for a while now. We only have sex when one of us really needs it, mostly just keeping to the friendship side of the relationship and hardly ever crossing the fence into the sexual side, but when we do, it’s nice. Let off some steam, but don’t get too close. He doesn’t seem to mind my detached attitude. Or at least he didn’t… until lately. Lately, he’s been acting strange, and now I get the feeling he wants something more with me. He’s suddenly inviting me places outside the confines of his penthouse, or the occasional hotel room when we’re needing a change of scenery.
It would be stupid of me to go to the charity ball with him; no doubt there will be quite a few influential people there. After all, that’s the only kind of people that are sought after when sending out the invites—the type who can afford to throw away money left and right. And boy does he have money to blow. We’ve never really discussed it, but it it’s not difficult to read between the lines. Who else has a personal driver, assistant, and someone who prepares their food and shops for whatever they need? Rich people, that’s who. Pierce is the type of man my mother married, but also, not. He’s devilishly handsome but he isn’t the devil. There’s nothing evil about him, even if he claims to have killed his best friend once upon a time, even if he believes he’s a villain. He’s never really ventured into the specifics of that one. But I know in my heart of hearts, he’s a decent and genuine guy.
I might be far from ready for this progression in our relationship. But then, will I ever be? The wounds Gray created still run deep. One day they’ll heal, leaving behind beautiful scars reminding me of my past, but today? Today, they haven’t even begun to scab over.
It’s doubtful I’ll ever want to take a step out of my comfort zone, to allow myself a chance of being hurt again. I remember Gray once saying how he’d never allow himself the chance to love. He said it was foolish to create more opportunities for pain to seep in and overwhelm him. I now see what he meant. Love has the makings to create pain in its deepest, truest, most intense form. It can make living seem debilitating. No other form of pain I’ve experienced has made me want to lay down and die. No other form of pain makes life seem impossible. Like yin to yang, Gray made me realize love’s existence, and he also showed me the fallout from its pain.
Life is all about choices. I can either choose to carry on and push through—even when I’m not ready—or I can choose to make no effort to do so, wallowing in misery.
If given the choice, shouldn’t we all choose happiness? Or at least choose to not be miserable?
I give Pierce a demure smile, reaching up to finish buttoning his crisp shirt, then smoothing the wrinkles I created in the heat of the moment earlier, from his collar. “Of course, I’ll go.” I attempt to give the impression I didn’t just decide this two seconds ago.
“Excellent.” He leans down to kiss me on the end of the nose.
“Only, I don’t have a dress. Nor do I have any clue what I should wear,” I suddenly remember.
He scrunches up his face like he doesn’t get my point, lifting his shoulders as if it’s no big deal. “Don’t worry, babe. My stylist will take care of it. Just give her your size and preferences, and she’ll come up with a few choices and run them by you.” He takes his phone out and says, “Call Vera,” then hits the speaker button once it goes through.
She answers after two rings. “Mr. Wilder!” she exclaims in a cheery voice. “What can I do for you?”
“Miss Boswell, I have a date for the charity event tomorrow night who is in need of your fashion expertise.”
Actually, I’m not in the need of her fashion expertise. When I say I don’t have a clue as to what I should wear, what I really mean is there is nothing I own that should be seen at an upscale dinner party. I somehow successfully hold my eyes steady and refrain from snorting out loud. An eye roll, although an appropriate show of how I’m feeling, wouldn’t be an appropriate show of appreciation. It would be highly disrespectful no matter how annoying his comment is. Sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s one of the male species, and we all know they don’t know any better.
He doesn’t realize I have my own fashion sense, and because of my mother, I’m quite a deal more knowledgeable about these types of events than he’s aware of. But I won’t tell him that. No one else but Gray knows those things about me. Trying to keep in mind this is something he can’t help, I just give in and allow Pierce to take over and believe he’s doing me a favor.
“I have a few things to handle with my schedule, so I’ll let you speak with Kate. She’ll give you her preferences and you can get a feel for her tastes. Offer her a few choices. Once she settles on the one she wants, retain the discarded choices as well. We’ll put them away in case she needs them in the future. Price is not an issue.” He hands me the phone before Vera can even respond.
Apprehensively, I take it from him, staring at his back as he retreats upstairs. For a moment, I’m frozen in place. I don’t say anything to the person on the other end of the phone as I worry over how she's going to view me. I don’t want to be seen as the poor little girl who’s trying to get rich from finding a wealthy man. That’s not me. I enjoy Pierce’s company. He’s charming. Funny. Witty. Sexy as hell. And speaking of sexy, the sex is pretty damn good. I feel guilty even thinking those words…Pretty damn good. If I’d never met Gray, I might deign to say he’s fucking amazing in bed. But here’s the thing, there’s amazing sex and then there’s mind-blowing, soul-searing sex with someone I care deeply about. He’s no Gray, but he’s also at an unfair disadvantage in that aspect.
I clear my throat, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “Hello, Vera. It’s Kate.”
It only takes a few minutes of conversation to realize Vera is actually quite accommodating. She’s professional, polite, and doesn’t hold that judgmental air I was expecting. But then again, Pierce probably pays her a handsome salary with the expectation that she be that way. In short, we decide my dress should fall somewhere in the category of “classy, sexy, and tasteful.”
She gets my measurements, which she’s pleased to find I know off hand—thanks to Althia’s fashion obsession—and she asks a few seemingly benign questions about my skin tone, hair color, and eye color. Which she later explains is about choosing dresses in shades that will compliment my features.
After a near thirty minute phone call, she finally lets me know she’ll be in touch after she’s done shopping. I sink back into the couch, exhausted by the boring fashion banter. Enjoying the feel of the cool leather against my back, I allow my lids to close and let out a sigh of relief.
“You know, most women get enthused about talking fashion,” Pierce says out of nowhere, causing me to jump.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, slightly annoyed at being watched and not even realizing it.
“Long enough to enjoy the view.” He winks. He’s leaning against the banister at the bottom of the staircase, completely dressed to re-start the day. I blind-sided him this morning, showing up out of nowhere and playing my friends-with-benefits card. Although slightly confused, he acquiesced my demands, which is probably why he just had to make a phone call concerning his schedule for the day.
Shame fills me to the brim, nearly splashing over. If he only knew the reasons behind my desperation. Today is the first of Oc
tober. This is my birthday month. Halloween used to be one of my favorite holidays aside from the fact it shares the same day as my birthday. Now, October is like a month-long fest of misery. It reminds me of the Start-of-the-Harvest party where Gray saved me from a sexual assault that could have ended up being a rape. Thanks to him, I’ll never know whether or not that would be the case. It also reminds me of Central Valley’s Fall Festival, in which I spent the entire day with Gray. It’s the month I lost my virginity. It’s the month I probably began to fall in love.
I came here desperate for a distraction, and Pierce personified just that. Sometimes I feel like all I do is take from him, which would be fine if I was also giving something in return.
Am I giving him something in return? Am I a mooch for his affection? I push the questions aside, focusing on the here and now.
“Mmm. Your fashion coordinator, or whatever, is very thorough. I thought I was undergoing a job interview.”
Pierce barks out a laugh. “Well, I certainly hope so. She’s paid to be thorough,” he reminds me, walking my way and pulling me up from the couch to wrap his arms around me, swaying to the beat of the music wafting through the speakers overhead.
It’s a sweet notion. Romantic. But my stomach churns because of that one memory: Prom night, after leaving the dance, whispers of promise and plans of a future as greedy hands roam my body.
Shit! It’s not fair. That asshole is constantly barreling his way into my thoughts. Still.
I take a tiny, unnoticeable step away from Pierce. Imperceptible to him, but the resulting distance feels like miles for me. I can actually breathe again. Glancing up into his handsome face, I straighten his tie, attempting to distract us both. He rakes a loose strand out of my eyes.
“Any chance of me lucking out, and getting you for two nights in a row?” he asks again.
No way.
Once we started getting physical, I had to take a step back from him. No more nights of hanging out back to back. Two nights in a row constitutes exclusivity. If I give that to him, it’s not long before it turns into combined living arrangements then marriage proposals.
That might be a tiny stretch, but no. No freaking thanks.
“Sorry, Mr. Wilder,” I grin. “Wouldn’t want you to grow tired of me. Two nights in a row, and you’ll realize how boring and ordinary I really am.”
He groans, tucking his forehead against my neck. “What are you doing to me, woman? For the record, you’re neither boring or ordinary. You’re spectacular in every way. Also for the record, I’ve never asked someone to attend an event with me. Or go to dinner as my date. I don’t do casual because I don’t do relationships that extend beyond one night. But here you are, the first person I actually want to spend time with, and you refuse me at every turn,” his eyes skirt up and down my body in a heated way, “unless you want to get laid. You’re driving me mad,” he growls.
“My mother would say, that’s what a smart woman is supposed to do. Men like the chase.”
“She sounds like a smart woman herself. Her theory is proving true.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. Until I glance at the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room, the single, solitary item that seems out of place in the apartment’s otherwise modern theme. I have a feeling it holds sentimental value.
“I gotta go. I’m already going to be late.” I turn away from him to gather up my purse and phone from the couch. “Forward Vera my number. She was going to text some photos to your phone. I don’t want her to. I think you’ll appreciate the element of surprise, not knowing what I’m going to wear until you pick me up.”
“I’d appreciate the element of surprise…if you showed up naked, willing, and ready,” he remarks gruffly, his mouth curving into a full smile as his eyes flare with lust.
I scoff. “Not going to happen. Have I suddenly created an insatiable beast out of my friend? We’ve only had sex, what, all of ten times and suddenly you have it on the brain right after we finish?” An incredulous laugh rips through me as I glance at his face and note the begging, puppy dog eyes he’s giving me.
“Actually, it’s been intercourse twelve times plus messing around a few times, but who’s counting?” he teases.
“Maybe you’ll be lucky and get a special treat in the limo on the way home afterward. But really, I have to run.”
“To your volunteer job at the library? Can’t you just call in? What if I give them a hefty donation for you to spend the rest of the day with me?” he attempts to persuade.
“I’m sure they’d love that. I, however, would not.” I give him a pointed look before giving a final peck on the lips. “See ya tomorrow, Tiger.”
He stands there staring like a goofy fool, and I realize in that moment, there are some pretty big decisions coming up for me to make. He wants more. He might even be in love with me.
And I definitely don’t feel the same.
Guiltily, I wish Pierce were someone else…like the asshole I fell in love with once upon a time. It’s a hard truth and one I’m not proud of.
But if I can’t have Gray, Pierce is the best thing I’ll get otherwise. I couldn’t ask for a better man. Am I willing to take that leap, to at least try and let him replace Gray in my heart? It’s a possibility, over time. An unfair one to him, but it's also unfair for me to miss out on this opportunity to move on.
I throw him a tiny wave, as I turn the corner to the foyer and out of his sight.
“Sully is at your disposal, he’ll meet you out front,” he calls out just as I’m walking out the door.
“Don’t need him, Mom.”
But I smile in spite of myself, and I accept the ride. I may hate feeling reliant on someone, but I’m also smart enough to realize I’ll be too late to even bother coming in otherwise.
Chapter Fourteen
STEPPING INTO THE slinky fabric, I pull it up my body. I roll the dress over my hips and stretching my arms through the two openings at the top, which is comprised of a sweetheart neckline made up of two panels. Each starts at one side of the waist and crosses in the middle diagonally to the opposite shoulder. Where they meet almost perpendicularly forms the deepest point of the décolletage—a rather profound dip that ends about two inches above my bellybutton.
Serving no real purpose other than decoration, the sleeves are for looks alone, hanging off my shoulders and nearly skimming my elbow.
The fabric—a deep, rich sapphire blue— does amazing things for my eyes. The silvery gray shade of them seems more clear and pure, really popping out against the blue hue. There’s a hem to thigh slit, that’s otherwise undetectable until my gait is wide enough, such as when walking up a set of steps.
Clinging to my body all the way to the floor, the dress is sexy without being flashy. Although, I do feel as if my eyes won’t be the only thing popping out if I’m not careful. My top could easily plummet to my waist with one forward roll of the shoulders.
I’ll have to remember that later, for quickie purposes.
Other than the winged liner and dramatic lashes, the rest of my makeup is minimal. Vera suggested I go this route to add to the classy effect. She swooped my hair back, allowing some wisps to hang free about my face, and put the rest in an up-do. I have to hand it to the girl, she definitely knows what she’s doing.
I haven’t been this dressed up since prom night. It feels nice being fussed over. The memories that are stirred, however, feel anything but nice.
They say a smile is contagious, so I force my reflection to try it out. My cheeks rise, but my eyes lack that beautiful shimmer that accompanies authenticity. I’m grinning, but it looks more like one of those skeleton masks from the Day of the Dead. I guess the saying’s a gimmick to try and change the world, a phony way to make people appear friendlier. In reality, there’s no change in mood for me, whatsoever.
Three brisk knocks come from the front door, and I rush from the bathroom to let Pierce in. Because of the amount of time it took for me to choose between the thr
ee gowns Vera provided me as possible contenders, I’m completely behind schedule. And I bet he’s grown impatient because of it.
Pulling open the door, I immediately wrench my lip into my mouth and bite down just to keep from mmming like a lustful loon. He’s razor-sharp in a slate-hued, three-piece suit—a mouth-watering, squeeze-your-thighs-together-for-relief sight. Everything about him screams domineering and ready to take over the world. Pierce always carries himself with confidence and power, but tonight that same attitude is illustrated tenfold.
It’s moments like this when I’m positively sure my instincts about him are on point. Sometimes I get this tiny, niggling feeling he could dominate me during sex, like maybe plain ol’ vanilla doesn’t quite do it for him…but he always holds back, probably because he doesn’t want to lose me as a friend. Or maybe because that type of relationship doesn’t work with a simple, “friends-only” frame of mind. But all that’s just a silly idea, maybe even a dark fantasy I have about him, manifesting as a hidden-reality.
He stands, one arm still in the air, mid-knock, the other tucked casually away in his pocket. The exemplification of the whole star-athlete obsession we women have, he’s fit but not in an I-poke-myself-in-the-ass-with-a-needle-full-of-steroids kind of way. Plus, the whole dirty blonde hair, cleft chin, and sexy British accent that only slips out every now and again—especially, I’m suspecting, when he wants to sneak me an effective aphrodisiac—all make him completely irresistible. So, how am I able to resist him most of the time? It makes no sense to me, particularly now, when I can’t stop staring, my brain shooting random words at me like friends and wrong and complicated, all of which I keep smacking away like annoying flies that keep buzzing overhead.
I take an apprehensive peek at his face, attempting to gauge his mood over my affecting our schedule. His hard jaw ticks, nostrils flaring with temperate irritation. All until his indigo eyes land on me, quickly doing a once-over and then a twice-over of my body. His lips stretch into a full grin.
Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series Page 11