by Maya Rose
Has. Like it’s still beating. Did I break it with my actions before it stopped?
“Why are you crying?” The question comes from her in wonder. Then, “Because I kept you away from him? Do you hate me for that, Ari?”
She’s only ever called me with that pet name once before. When I was twelve, she was home sick, down with a high fever and severe headache, after finding out that her mother had died and her sister didn’t tell her until a month later. I stayed up all night and all day, as she cried, slept, babbled deliriously, slept some more, and wept again. You’re a good daughter, Ari. You deserve a good mother. Someone who isn’t such a petty bitch. She said when she was conscious for a few minutes between tired naps.
Am I getting this moment with her because of dad? He’s never been more present when absent. “Mom?” I venture unsurely.
“Yes.” She replies, not questions. A world of emotion in that one word agreement. Like she’s saying, whatever I need, she’s here.
So I shoot the works. “Can you hold me?” I ask tremulously. “For like…10 seconds?”
I start back again when she drops the hook and the yarn on the bed immediately, and moves closer to the edge. Then she puts her arms around my arms, though not all the way. But it’s more than I ever thought I would get, and it fills my heart to the brim with a fullness that’s as painful, as it is relieving. My tears don’t start until she says. “So strange. You smell like him.”
It’s not her I’m thinking of, in that suspended moment. Not my father. It’s Eli. His strong arms I crave. His voice I yearn for. His blue eyes I want to capsize in. His breath I want to inhale. His touch I want to live. Not yours. He’s not yours anymore. Why did you do it, dad? Why couldn’t I have the one thing I ever asked for from you?
I pull away from mom, and get up rushingly. I have to get out now. This is how I want to leave this contact with her. If she switches and goes back to hating me again, today, I don’t know what I might do.
“Take care, mom. I’ll see you soon.” I mumble, turn, and run away a second time that day.
I close the door behind me, and I’m barely two strides outside the room, when I run smack dab into a wall of muscle I intimately know. With and without clothes. I look up, fear and ache welting furrows over my sore heart. No holds barred fury darkens ominously in those twin sapphire depths.
His long fingers burrow into the flesh of my arms. “What the fuck did I tell you about running from me?”
I wasn’t supposed to hear his voice again. So I stare at him like he’s an apparition.
“Did she hit you again?” He demands, his free hand pushing my hair away from my face, his eyes scanning the skin he uncovers. Real. That touch is definitely real.
It leaves me breathless, the effort I have to put in, to push his hand away. “No, she didn’t. I’m fine.” Then I try to wriggle out of his hold. But of course I’m no match for the freaking Hulk. I look at his fingers pointedly before glaring at him. “I said I’m fine. So let me go.”
He does the exact opposite. Grabs me harder to the point of pain and takes a strut forward, puckering my nipples inside my T-shirt with the mere graze of his suit. “I haven’t touched you in fifty five hours.” He hisses. “My hands will stay where the fuck they want.”
Why are we talking to each other like this? I don’t hate him. I don’t blame him for not choosing me. And I don’t want to fight him. He’s the last person I want to fight. “Eli, please.” I plead. “You don’t have to explain.”
A wayward emotion dilutes the anger on his face. Pain, remorse, mourning...what is it? “That’s what I believed. That I don’t have to explain.” He agrees tightly. “But seeing as you are hell bent on believing the worst of me, I don’t have a fucking choice, do I?”
“Stop cursing so much!” I bite out, irritated.
“You have a problem with my mouth?” An eyebrow lifts.
Freaking arsonist. Fire blazes in me at the reminder of his warm, moist lips between my thighs. This won’t do. “Why are you here?” I ask of him, desperate for a place to hide.
“You’re here. Where the fuck else would I be?” He grates on a rough breath.
Is he trying to make me cry? “You shouldn’t be here. The will...pretty sure this qualifies as a personal call.” What does he want from me? Then I remember. “That contract. I’ll sign it. You don’t have to worry about me asking for more than you want to give me.”
His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and I’m abruptly, unceremoniously, hoisted, and mounted on his left shoulder. On his freaking shoulder!! “Eli!!!” I cry out in shock, struggling against his grasp on my hips and backside, and the commotion we cause brings Nancy and company running to where we are in that quiet corridor.
“Yes, us again.” Eli growls at them, low and deep. “Where can we find an empty room?”
What??!! “No!! Get me away from him!!” I scream at them, thrashing wildly on his shoulder, beating his back, trying to rotate so I can talk to their faces. But he easily keeps me bent over the firm cushiony base of his all natural shoulder pad.
“Stay! And keep your voice down--they have patients here.” He tosses the order at me, then snaps at our audience again, commanding, but not a decibel higher. “A room. Now.”
“Straight and first left. Third door to your right. It’s an empty office.” Some idiot woman actually answers, and he’s stalking there before she’s finished with the directions. I boil inside, but keep my mouth shut, because of course he’s right. There are sick people here. Plus any fight I put up, is just making my stomach and boobs fondle against his shoulder and back. And now I’m wet.
He trots easily and steadily to that third door, entering the room and latching it shut. When he ultimately sets me down, I flip out and leap at him.
“How dare you!!” I fist his chest like I’m playing drums with them. I get a few punches in, or maybe he lets me, until his palm suddenly skids around the back of my neck, and an arm drifts around my waist, levering me forward such that I’m pasted onto his body.
His eyes shine with purpose. “You.” He says simply, that word, his tone, scaling every surrounding sound, and coming out clear as day.
I stop, out of profuse confusion and creeping heat at his nearness and words. “Me...me what?”
“I choose you, princess. What the fuck do I do with any of it without you?” Then the man rolls his eyes. “Christ--I sold all my other houses and condos because I’m not afraid of being homeless anymore. Because of you. Because with you, I always have a home. Of course I fucking choose you.”
My world tilts on its axis. What did he just say? “You what?”
He gives me a roguish grin. “Need a few, baby girl? My hot body’s too much of a distraction?” Then Eli King winks at me.
Check. Check. I pull a favor with all the muscles in my throat. “What are you talking about?”
My breath plays peekaboo, courtesy of his playful, tender smile. His arm slides lower to stroke my butt. “I told Selena that everything is yours. But you’re all mine. It’s done. She’s drawing up the paperwork.”
If he’s joking, it’s the cruelest thing anyone has ever done to me. “Eli--”
His blue eyes glaze at me with stars in them, thumb going round and round on my neck. “Between you and all of it, between you and any-fucking-thing...it’s you. Always.” A frown crowns the area between his brows. “Did you really not know that, little miss smarty pants?”
“Why?” I beseech him for an answer that makes sense, because I’m in deep denial. “Why would you do that?”
His dark, glossy gaze strums over my face. My lips, my nose, my eyes, my cheeks. “Because I love…” My breath slumps, and my heartbeat is trying to prove some point with the acceleration. “...myself.”
I squint, trying to process it. “What?”
“I never loved myself. Not really.” His fingers inch higher, burying in my hair. “Then you fell in love with me. Believed in me. Trusted me. So I did too.”
/> A heated blush of mortification crawls on my cheeks. “I never said that I--”
“Then say it now.” His voice both cajoles and challenges me.
So I dare him back. Because my throttled brain just got there. He’s here. For me. He chose me. “You say it first.”
He gives a devilish smirk. “Hell yeah, I’m going to say it first. I’m psychotically, moonstruckly, very very obscenely, in love with you, princess.”
I try to stifle the laugh, but to no avail. “Obscenely?”
“Have you met your pussy?” He drawls dryly. “If I had a pussy like that, my fingers would permanently be attached--”
“I love your dirty mouth.” I ease my hands over and around his shoulders, jutting my hips, letting his rigid cock lance me as I move suggestively against him. He stops talking, and breathes a shallow breath, his eyes naked with want. “And your clean, caring heart. And I love your thick, hard cock. Your always-on brain. Your big, strong arms when they defend me from the world. I love it when you follow me and I love it even more when you order me around.” I pause, because I really want him to listen now. But he already is. He always is. “I’m in love with you, Mr King, because how could anyone freaking not be?”
He stares at me, mouth parted. Then a sharp, “Fuck.”
“What?” I ask him, thrown by his reaction.
“Yours was better. Can I try again?”
Even his disgruntled face turns me on. “Not a chance.” I shake my head and tell him. His frown crinkles more, so I add, “It was perfect and now it’s mine so you can’t take it back.”
“It was perfect?” His glee makes me weak in my knees.
Jesus, this man. “Just how long do I have to grind my pussy on your cock before you’ll kiss--”
His lips burn me, and it’s my favorite thing in the world. His fingers and cock have been inside my pussy and my ass. But this, this right here, as he flicks his tongue possessively over mine, his mouth maintaining that perfect balance of exacting and giving--I can never have enough of this. And now I can have as much of this as I want. Can this be real?
I shear my lips off, a giant flutter settling in my stomach. “Warren didn’t want this for us.” I remark with a pang.
“Jesus.” He stares at me like he can’t believe I haven’t worked it out yet. “Ariel--don’t you see what he did?”
What he did? “What do you mean?”
His thumb traces over the seam of my lower lip, a slow smile skirting his own. “He proved to you what you’re worth, baby girl, and he showed me what truly matters to me.”
Oh God. Oh my God. Dad’s voice resonates in my exhausted head, as Eli’s explanation sinks in. I want you to be happy. I want you to have everything you deserve.
“I was so sure about what I wanted in life.” Eli locks his gaze on mine. “But when Selena read us all of that, I didn’t even blink. There was no conflict. Not in my head, and not in my heart. No fear, no regret, no doubt. I panicked only when you ran.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I’ve set your Google Maps to always share your location with me.”
“That’s…” I start, and he tilts his head, smug as anything, waiting me out. I want to lie just to take that look off, but I can’t. “Damn it, that’s hot.” I grudgingly admit. He laughs, and my heart kicks wildly inside my chest. “What did he say to you that night?” I’m dying to find out.
Eli’s eyes shine. “That I turned out to be more than he ever thought any son of his might have meant to him. That he’s proud of me. And loves me. Without conditions or regrets. And trusts me. And he asked that I trust him.” His chest rumbles with laughter before he adds, “Then he made me give him an update on all critical projects and contracts, and gave me some more negotiation tips.”
Tension drains from me in a heavy surge. And if what I want is Eli? Then it is my job to make sure that you have him. But at this cost? “You didn’t have to do this, Eli.” I fret and tell him. “I don’t want any of it. I hate that it’s not yours. It should be. It doesn’t matter to me as long as I have you. I’m sure Selena can work it...it’s not too late to tell her that you’ve changed your mind.”
“But I haven’t changed my mind.” He delivers with ease. “You are Warren’s daughter, and it is your right.”
“It is your right way more than it is mine.” I argue. “I wouldn’t even begin to know what to do with any of it. But you...”
He brushes his nose along my jaw, pressing a warm, firm kiss to the spot where it morphs into my neck. His fingers run lightly over my spine. Up and down. Up and down. Feathery touches that are both soothing and pussy wetting. Pulling back, his blue gaze calms my nerves and simultaneously spikes my pulse. God, is it always going to be like this with him?
“This is us, baby girl.” He says sanguinely, a serenity in him and in the space between us. “Our relationship. Our rules. We can make it whatever we want. If we decide that I should keep running all of it while you finish college and figure out what you want to do, we’ll do that. If we think you should have a more active role in the business while you finish college, I’ll help you get there. If you’re keen on running it solo in a few years, I’m a brilliant, grown-ass man who can do anything else I want with my life. And someday, if we want to sell all of this and retire to Hawaii and fuck all damn day for the rest of our lives, then that’s what we’ll do.”
I grin, cheeky and lightheaded.
“What?” He asks, narrowing his eyes, but playfully.
“You said we.” I point out triumphantly. “A lot.”
He gives me a smile that spreads to every corner of his handsome, fascinatingly symmetrical face. It buckles my knees and has me putting all my weight on him, that he eagerly takes, his hands tightening on my back. “Yeah? Get used to it.”
Epilogue
2 years later
Eli
◆◆◆
“I’m just saying, you should have a backup plan in case she--”
“She’s not going to say no.” I snap at Scotty, and he holds his hands up in impish surrender.
Then gives me an evil grin. “There’s confidence and then there’s--”
“Remind me again why I asked you to help me pick out the ring?” I scowl at him.
“Because I’m the classy one and you value my input.” He replies haughtily.
I roll my eyes, but swipe my attention toward my bedroom door, when it suddenly flies open. Ariel darts out, carrying one sneaker, wearing the other, phone pressed to her ear, as she barks into it. “I don’t care if it’s the Mayor. I don’t care if it’s the Pope! I’m not changing the menu on such short notice. We haven’t prepped for the new dishes, I’m short two sous-chefs, I’m not happy with the desserts we’ve planned and I woke up on the wrong side of the damn bed today! So the answer is no! The answer to anything anyone asks me today is no!” She hangs up, pressing the red button so hard it could make a dent in the glass.
Scotty smiles at me sweetly at the dining table with a knowing smirk, but she catches it.
“What the hell are you grinning about?” She eats into him. “And what do you think this is?” She swirls her index finger, indicating the condo. “A hotel? For you to come and go whenever you please?”
His smile meets an abrupt death. “I texted you I was going to be late, didn’t I?” He grumbles.
She places her arms on her hips and glares at him, sneaker on the floor. “You’ve been traveling all of last month for your million and one projects, you’ve hardly been home this week even when you are in town, and you never let me know what your ETA is ever!! You’re supposed to text me before I send you a dozen messages asking when you’ll be home!! And now you’re just--” She pauses, and her eyes widen. “What’s her name?”
Scotty reddens. “Excuse me?”
She turns to me. “Did you know that he has a girlfriend?”
What? Huh. “Nope.” I drag the p with a popping sound effect, enjoying Scotty’s squirming.
<
br /> He opens his mouth, I’m sure to deny, but one look from her and he’s thought better of it. “Aren’t you two getting late for work?” He diverts.
“Call her over on Saturday.” She orders him. “I’ll call Selena too. I haven’t seen her in like forever. How is she always so busy lately?” She asks me, then doesn’t wait for my answer. I don’t have one anyway. Yes, Selena’s been busy, but I’m so damn grateful that I have her. A friend and a colleague. “We’ll make an evening out of it.” Ariel continues, and Scotty stuffs two strawberries and multiple blueberries in his mouth to avoid answering.
“Shit, I have no time for breakfast.” Ariel mutters, but I’d anticipated that. It’s been the norm for the last two years. First through the eight months of culinary school at the Institute of Culinary Education, because she wanted to do that instead of regular college. Then six more months, when she trained under the head chef of the Walton Plaza Bistro. Then since ten months ago, when she made head chef herself after Chef Preston retired. She’s always leaving home in a hurry.
“Sit.” I use my no back-talk tone, and bring her the plate of scrambled eggs I whipped up in the morning. She doesn’t argue, and starts scarfing it down instead. I take the time to kneel, and slip her bare foot inside the other sneaker.
“Keep telling you not to do that.” She complains, but her eyes darken when they latch with mine. She likes it when I do anything for her. Especially when it involves us touching.
And I know why she’s crabby. It’s why I’ve been short with everyone too. We’ve both been working late recently. She’s readying her kitchen and staff for the Mayor visiting, which is today. And I’ve been swamped with converting Warren’s big Southampton house into a bed and breakfast per his will, on top of running the rest of Walton Hotels. I have no clue how Warren was doing it alone for so many years. Ever watchful, Ariel has learnt a lot about the business in the last two years, and she helps me sometimes with some things, but she’s happiest in her industrial kitchen, winning Michelin stars. But this week, we’ve had three days of conflicting schedules of when we come and go, to and from work. I had to stay back at the Southampton house one night because a meeting with a contractor ran late, and the next two nights when I came back home, Ariel was already asleep on the couch. Translation, no sex. It’s the longest we’ve gone without. I’m about to change that, but I damn well can’t tell her that in front of Scotty. So I wait patiently until she finishes. Then we take the private elevator down to the private garage.