Once she was in the house, my entire family scowled at me.
“Bennett,” Dad hissed. “I thought we talked about this.”
I grabbed my glass and brought it to my lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bennett,” my mother added, “I think you should go apologize.”
“For what?” I asked, setting down my drink a little too roughly.
“Ben!” my father said sharply, leaving no room for argument.
I tossed my napkin onto my plate and pushed away from the table. I stormed through the house, searching the bathrooms on the first two floors, until finally reaching the third floor, where the bathroom door was closed.
Standing outside, my hand resting on the knob, I debated with myself. If I went in there, what would happen? There was only one thing I was interested in, and it sure as hell wasn’t apologizing. I thought about knocking but knew for a fact she wouldn’t invite me in. I listened carefully, waiting for any noise or sign of movement from inside. Nothing. Finally, I turned the knob, surprised to find it unlocked.
I’d only been in this bathroom a few times since my mother had remodeled it. It was a beautiful, modern room with a custom-built marble counter and a wide mirror covering one wall. Above the vanity table was a small window that overlooked the patio and grounds below. She was sitting on the padded bench in front of the table, staring out at the sky.
“Here to grovel?” she asked. She took the cap off her lipstick, which she carefully applied to her lips.
“I was sent to check on your delicate petal feelings.” I reached behind me to turn the lock on the bathroom door, the audible click ringing in the silent room.
She laughed, meeting my eyes in the mirror. She looked completely composed, but I could see the rise and fall of her chest; she was every bit as worked up as I was.
“I assure you, I’m fine.” She put the cap back on her lipstick and shoved it into her purse. She stood and started to move past me to the door. “I’m used to you being a prick. But Joel seems nice. I should get back downstairs.”
I put my hand on the door as I leaned closer to her face. “I don’t think so.” My lips lightly grazed under her ear, and she shuddered with the contact. “You see, he wants something that’s mine, and he can’t have it.”
She glared at me. “What year is it? Two? Let me go. I am not yours.”
“You might think that,” I whispered, my lips ghosting along the column of her neck. “But your body,” I said, running my hands under her skirt and pressing my hand against the damp lace between her legs, “thinks otherwise.”
Her eyes closed and she let out a low moan as my fingers moved in slow circles against her clit. “Screw you.”
“Let me,” I said into her neck.
She let out a shaky laugh, and I pushed her against the bathroom door. Grabbing each of her hands, I raised them above her head, keeping them captive in my own and bending to kiss her. I felt her struggle weakly in my grip and I shook my head, tightening my hold.
“Let me,” I repeated, pressing my hardened cock against her.
“Oh, God,” she said as her head tilted to the side, allowing me access to her neck. “We can’t do this here.”
I ran my lips down and across her collarbone to her shoulder. Shifting both of her wrists into one hand, I reached down and slowly pulled one of the ribbons holding her top together, kissing along the newly exposed skin. Moving to the other side I repeated the action and was rewarded when the bodice slipped down to reveal a white lace strapless bra. Fuck. Did this woman own anything that didn’t make me nearly come in my pants? I trailed my mouth down to her breasts while my free hand unfastened the clasp. There was no way I was missing the sight of her bare breasts this time. It opened easily and the lace fell away, revealing the vision that filled every one of my filthiest fantasies. As I took one pink nipple into my mouth, she moaned and her knees buckled slightly.
“Shhh,” I whispered against her skin.
“More,” she said. “Again.”
I lifted her and she wrapped her legs around my waist, bringing our bodies together more firmly. I released her hands and she immediately brought them up to my hair and roughly pulled me closer. Fuck, I loved it when she did that. I pushed her against the door but then realized there were too many clothes in the way; I wanted to feel the heat of her skin against my own, wanted to bury myself balls deep in her and keep her pinned to the wall until everyone had long since gone to bed.
She seemed to read my mind as her fingers moved down my sides and began frantically tugging my polo from my pants, lifting it up and over my head.
The sound of laughter outside floated up through the open window, and I felt her tense against me. A long moment passed before her eyes met mine, and it was clear she was struggling with what to say.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she said finally, shaking her head. “He’s waiting for me.” She halfheartedly tried to push me away but I held my ground.
“Do you actually want him?” I asked, feeling a wave of possessiveness boil up inside me. She held my gaze but didn’t answer.
I set her down and pulled her to the dressing table, stopping to stand just behind her. From where we stood, we had a perfect view of the patio below.
I pulled her bare back to my chest and brought my mouth to her ear. “Do you see him?” I asked, my hands sliding along her breasts. “Look at him.” I skimmed my hands down her abdomen, along her skirt and to her thighs. “Does he make you feel like this?” My fingers floated up her thigh and underneath her panties. A low hiss escaped my mouth as I felt the wetness there and pushed inside. “Would he ever make you this wet?”
She groaned and pressed her hips back into me. “No . . .”
“Tell me what you want,” I whispered against her shoulder.
“I—I don’t know.”
“Look at him,” I said, my fingers moving in and out of her. “You know what you want.”
“I want to feel you inside me.” She didn’t need to ask me twice. I quickly undid my pants and pushed them down my hips, grinding into her ass before I lifted her skirt and gripped her panties in my hands. “Rip them,” she whispered.
I’d never been able to be this raw and primal with anyone before, and it felt so fucking right with her. I yanked hard and her flimsy panties tore easily. I tossed them to the floor, running my hands along her skin and sliding my fingers down her arms to her hands, where I pressed her palms flat on the table in front of us.
She was a fucking gorgeous sight: bent at the waist, skirt pushed up over her hips, perfect ass on display. We both moaned as I lined myself up and slid in deep. Bending over, I placed a kiss and another “Shhh” on her back.
More laughter came from outside. Joel was down there. Joel, who was basically a good guy, but who wanted to take her away from me. The image was enough to make me push into her more forcefully.
Her strangled sounds made me smile, and I rewarded her with an increase in tempo. A twisted part of me felt a sense of vindication seeing Chloe muted by what I did to her.
She was gasping, fingers searching for something to hold on to, and my cock so hard inside her, harder every time she tried to make a sound but couldn’t.
Speaking softly against her ear, I asked if she wanted to be fucked. I asked her if she liked my mouth dirty, if she liked to see me filthy like this, taking her so rough she would bruise.
She stuttered out a yes, and when I moved faster and harder, she begged for more.
The bottles and jars on the table were rattling and tipping over with the force of our movements, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Gripping her hair, I pulled her up so her back was against my chest. “Do you think he can make you feel this way?”
I continued to thrust in and out of her, forcing her to look out the window.
I knew I was slipping. My wal
ls were falling around me but I didn’t care. I needed her to think of me tonight as she lay in bed. I wanted her to feel me when she closed her eyes and touched herself, remembering the way I’d fucked her. My free hand ran up her sides to her breast, cupping it and twisting her nipples.
“No,” she moaned. “Never like this.” Sliding my hand down her side I placed it behind her knee and hitched it up to the table, opening her up wider and allowing my thrusts to deepen.
“Do you feel how perfectly you fit around me?” I groaned into her neck. “You feel so fucking good. When you go downstairs, I want you to remember this. Remember what you do to me.”
The sensation was becoming too overwhelming and I knew I was getting close. I was beyond desperate. I craved her like a drug, and this feeling consumed my every waking thought. Taking her hand in mine, I laced our fingers and moved them down her body to her clit, both our hands stroking and teasing. I groaned as I felt myself glide in and out of her.
“Do you feel that?” I whispered into her ear, spreading our fingers so they slipped on either side of me.
She turned her head and whimpered into the skin of my neck. It wasn’t enough, and I needed to keep her quiet. Removing my hand from her hair, I gently covered her mouth and placed a kiss against her flushed cheek. She let out a muffled cry, the possible sound of my name, as her body tensed and then tightened all around me.
After her eyes closed and her lips relaxed into a satisfied sigh, I started taking what I needed: faster now, watching in the mirror so I could see how my thrusts made her breasts move.
My climax began to rip through me. Her hand fell from my hair to cover my own mouth and I closed my eyes and let the wave overtake me. My final thrusts were deep and hard as I spilled into her.
I opened my eyes, kissing her palm before removing it from my mouth and laying my forehead against her shoulder. The oblivious voices from below continued to carry up to us. She leaned back into me and we stood there quietly for a few moments.
Slowly, she began to pull away, and I frowned at the loss of contact. I watched as she straightened her skirt, retrieved her bra, and attempted to retie the straps of her top. As I reached down to pull up my pants, I grabbed the torn lace of her underwear, shoving it into my pocket. She was still struggling with her dress and I walked over, brushing her hands away and retying the straps without meeting her gaze.
The room was suddenly too small and we glanced at each other once in an uncomfortable silence. I reached for the knob, wanting to say something, anything, to fix this. How could I ask her to fuck me and only me, and not expect anything else to change? Even I knew asking for that was likely to earn me a swift kick to the nuts. But the language for what I felt when I saw her with Joel wasn’t crystallizing fast enough. My mind was blank. Frustrated, I opened the door. We both stopped short at the sight before us.
There, standing outside the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised knowingly, was Mina.
Eight
The moment he opened the door and we came face-to-face with Mina, I froze.
“What exactly were you two doing in there?” she asked, her eyes moving between the two of us. A recap of all she could have heard flashed through my head, and I felt a burst of heat spread along my skin.
I chanced a look over to Mr. Ryan as he did the same, then turned back to Mina and shook my head. “Nothing, we needed to talk. That’s all.” I tried to play it off, but knew the tremor in my voice gave me away.
“Oh, I heard something in there, but it certainly wasn’t talking,” she said, smirking.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mina. We were discussing an issue at work,” he said, trying to move around her.
“In the bathroom?” she asked.
“Yes. You sent me up here to find her. This is where I found her.”
She shifted in front of him, blocking his path. “Do you think I’m stupid? It’s no secret that you two don’t discuss anything; you yell. So, what? Are you two, like, dating now?”
“No!” We both yelled at once, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before quickly darting away.
“So . . . you’re just fucking then,” she said, and it seemed that neither of us could find the words to reply. The tension in that hallway was so heavy I briefly considered how much damage a jump from a third-story window could do. “For how long?”
“Mina . . .” he began, shaking his head, and for once I actually felt bad about his discomfort. I’d never seen him look like this before. It was as if all this time it really hadn’t occurred to him that there could be consequences outside of our own turmoil.
“How long, Bennett? Chloe?” she said, looking between us.
“I—we just—” I started, but just what? How could I explain any of this? “We—”
“We made a mistake. It was a mistake.” His voice cut through my thoughts and I looked over to him in shock. Why did it bother me so much that he said it? It was a mistake, and yet hearing him say that . . . hurt.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she began to speak. “Mistake or not, it needs to stop now. What if I’d been Susan? And Bennett, you’re her boss! Have you forgotten that?” She exhaled deeply. “Look, you two are adults, and I don’t know what’s going on here, but whatever you do, do not let Elliott find out.”
A wave of nausea hit me at the idea of Elliott ever finding out about this, at how disappointed he’d be. I couldn’t bear that. “That won’t be a problem,” I said, purposefully avoiding Bennett’s gaze. “I intend to learn from my mistake. Excuse me.”
I moved past them and toward the stairs, anger and hurt settling like a lead weight deep in my stomach. The strength of my work ethic and motivation had always buoyed me through harder times in my life: breakups, the death of my mother, rough patches with friendships. My value as an employee at RMG was now tinged with self-doubt. Was I making him see me differently because I was fucking him? Now that he’d seemed to register—finally—that if others knew about us it could be bad for him, would he start to question my judgment more globally?
I was smarter than this. It was time I started acting like it.
I composed myself before stepping outside and returning to my seat beside Joel.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
I turned my head, letting myself look at him for a moment. He was really quite cute: neatly combed dark hair, a kind face, and the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. He was everything I should be looking for. My gaze shot up a moment later as Mr. Ryan returned to the table with Mina, but I quickly looked away.
“Yeah, I’m just not feeling well,” I said, turning back to Joel. “I think I might need to call it a night.”
“Here,” he said, standing to pull out my chair. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
I said my good-byes, feeling the unfamiliar shape of Joel’s palm on the small of my back as we walked into the house. Once in the driveway, he gave me a shy smile and took my hand. “It was really nice meeting you, Chloe. I’d like to call you sometime and maybe have that lunch.”
“Let me see your phone,” I said. Part of me felt bad for doing this, having been with one man upstairs not even twenty minutes ago, and now giving my number to another. But it was time to move past this, and a lunch date with a nice guy seemed like a good place to start.
His smile widened as I handed him his phone, and he gave me his card in return. Taking my hand, he lifted it to his lips. “I’ll call you Monday, then. Hopefully your flowers aren’t completely wilted.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” I said, smiling. “Thank you.”
He looked so sincere, so happy at the simple possibility of seeing me again, and it occurred to me that I should be swooning, or giddy. I really just wanted to throw up.
“I should go.”
Joel nodded, opening my car door for me. “Of course. I hope you feel better. Drive car
efully, and good night, Chloe.”
“Good night, Joel.”
He closed my door and I started the engine, my eyes straight ahead as I drove away from my boss’ family’s house.
The next morning at yoga I considered spilling my guts to Julia. I’d felt reasonably certain I could handle things on my own, but after an entire night of staring at the ceiling and completely freaking out, I realized I needed to confide in someone.
There was Sara, and more than anyone Sara would understand how maddening my hot boss could be. But she also worked for Henry and I didn’t want to put her in an awkward position by asking her to keep such a huge secret. I knew Mina would be happy to talk if I asked, but there was just something about her being a Ryan, and knowing what she might have heard that left me feeling less than comfortable.
These were the times I really wished my mom were still alive. Just thinking about her brought a wrenching pain to my chest and tears to my eyes. Moving here to spend the last years of her life with her had been the best decision I’d ever made. And even though living so far from my dad and friends was tough at times, I knew everything happened for a reason. I just wished the reason would hurry up and make itself known.
Could I tell Julia? I had to admit I was terrified of what she would think of me. But more than that, I was terrified of saying the words to someone out loud.
“Okay, you keep looking at me,” she said. “Either you have something on your mind or I’m the embarrassing and gross kind of sweaty.”
I tried to tell her nothing, I tried to brush it off and let her think she was being absurd. But I couldn’t. The weight and the pressure of the last few weeks came crashing down and before I could control it, my chin started to tremble and I began bawling like a baby.
“That’s what I thought. Come on.” She offered me her hand and helped me up and, gathering our belongings on the way, led me out the door.
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