Unwilling

by LK Collins

  “Why did you question me in the meeting this morning?” she blatantly asks.

  “You don’t want me to answer that.”

  “Sure I do, I want the truth, always.”

  “I don’t think you do, though,” I plead with her and hope she will drop it.

  “Try me.” She sits back and crosses her arms over her chest, her perky tits tempting me . . . again, and I let out a large exhale. “What? Am I boring you?”

  “Far from it. The last thing you are, Sasha, is boring. Are you sure you really want the truth?” she nods, but before I can answer the waitress walks up. I raise one finger to the girl, signaling that we need a minute longer and she walks off. My eyes are wide, as I prepare to speak. I’m as serious as I think I’ve ever been.

  “Sasha, I don’t know what it is about you, but since I met you on that airplane, you’re all I can think about. You’re all I want. My body reacts to you in a way it never has with anyone else. It’s like I’ve lost control of it. Then this morning when you were at that meeting, I got so pissed because I don’t mix business with pleasure. And even then, I couldn’t control my thoughts as I watched you up there, so to keep my mind off what I was imagining doing to you, I called you out.” I wait for her to respond, knowing my reason sounds totally absurd, but it’s the truth.

  “If that’s the truth, then why ignore me when we rode back together?”

  “That line again, it’s got me playing devil's advocate in my own head. So rather than letting myself get carried away and fuck you in the back of my car while my driver watched, I ignored you, again to keep myself under control. Trust me, it was the only way.”

  She blinks a few times and then sinks back further into her seat. It’s as if I just stripped the air from her lungs, but that’s what she’s been doing to me all along.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Trust me, neither do I. But it’s what you do to me. This morning, you had no bra on, and my mind was being so fuckin’ bad.” My eyes are screaming at me to look at her tits right now. She licks her lips making me speak my mind. “Like that, please don’t do that.”

  “What?” she asks me so innocently.

  “You know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m not doing anything, Westin.”

  “Yes, you are, and unless you want to end up face down on this table, you better stop it.”

  The waitress walks up and this time speaks, “Are you two ready to order something to drink?”

  Sasha’s eyes are wide. My words shocked her. “We’ll take two gin and tonic’s,” I order for the both of us, remembering her order on the flight.

  “If I . . . have this control over you, then why were you at the bar with that girl the other night?”

  “I swear, she started to talk to me, I didn’t initiate it.”

  “Would you have fucked her?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do you sleep with a lot of women?”

  “Define a lot.”

  “I think that answers my question. So, why am I any different? Why should I believe a word of what you’re saying? If I’m just one of many then surely you’ll be over this when the next girl comes along.” Her words piss me off. I’m trying to be honest here, as hard as it fucking is to lay my feelings out on the line, and she thinks it’s all a goddamn joke. That it’s not real. I shake my head just wanting to leave. I’m not the type of guy who lets women get into his head like this.

  The waitress sets our drinks down, and I slam mine down in one gulp while looking at Sasha as I take my wallet out and place a twenty on the table. She crosses her arms closing herself off from me, and I give her a wink.

  “If you walk out of here—”

  I cut her off before she can finish her statement. “I’m putting myself out there for you when I shouldn’t since we’re going to be working together and you’re acting like this is a fucking joke. Don’t you get it, Sasha? I’ve never felt this way before or expressed my feelings like this. Please don’t mock me. There is no one in the world like you, and I get it, I’m not the guy for you.” My heart is racing, I haven’t felt this much adrenaline—ever.

  She takes a tiny sip of her drink and as much as I want to turn my back on her, goddammit, I can’t.

  “I don’t know what to say to all that,” she finally whispers.

  “Say something, anything,” I beg her and to my surprise, she stretches her hand out to me for a handshake saying, “I’m Sasha Monroe, it’s nice to meet you.”

  I take her hand in mine and lean down, kissing the top of her soft skin, just like I did the day I met her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Westin Smith.” And like that, our past is water under the bridge. Sasha’s eyes soften, and sweet, simple conversation flows from her lips allowing me to get swept away in her words, in her voice, in the woman that she is.

  10

  Sasha

  I never dreamt I’d actually enjoy a meal with Westin, but that is precisely what we did tonight. And like the gentleman that he’s suddenly become, he drapes his coat over my shoulders as we walk back to the hotel. My stomach is a ball of nerves, not knowing where the evening is headed. Will he ask me back to his room? What would I say? Is he going to kiss me?

  Walking back, he’s become unusually quiet, which is only making me more nervous.

  “After you,” he says and opens the front door to the hotel. I walk back inside ahead of him and for the first time since I’ve been here, my eyes are not wildly searching for him. He’s right next to me. I do, however, notice the way women look at him, from the waitress tonight, to women on the street, and now the front desk clerk. They all gawk at him like he is a king, and I’m invisible next to him. But it doesn’t bother me because his eyes are only on me.

  “Thank you for tonight,” I tell him while we wait for the elevator.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, and I take his coat off my shoulders, passing it back to him. The doors open and he ushers me inside. “What floor?”

  “Three, please.”

  He pushes the button for the third floor and my anxiety skyrockets.

  Holy hell, he’s coming back to my room.

  The air between us is stiff; an awkward silence blooming. Then the doors open and together we exit with his firm, yet gentle arm on my lower back guiding me. He doesn’t ask me any other questions as we walk to my room.

  “This is me,” I say, stopping in front of my door. Westin’s eyes blaze in the low hallway light. I take my card out to open the door, and he pulls me into a tight embrace, his arms wound around me so securely. I melt into him, loving everything about this moment, from his scent to the way his closeness makes my heart slam against the walls of my chest, to the rough stubble of his face as it brushes my forehead. Then he whispers into my ear, “Sleep well, sweetheart.” I feel wobbly as he says those three little words and lets me go. He stole the air from my lungs and is walking away with it. My eyes blink as I watch him walk away, not able to truly believe it. Then I find my voice and whisper back, “You, too,” but he’s too far away. He stops at the last door in the hallway without looking back and enters the room.

  Sliding the card into my hotel room door, I slip inside, and the second I’m in I don’t know whether to jump up and down in excitement or to fall to my knees in a swoon-worthy daze.

  How is that even the same guy I met on the plane?

  My mind is running rapidly, thinking back on the night. From his blatant honesty at dinner to leaving me here like this; it’s all so much to handle. Hell, Westin Smith is a lot to handle.

  Looking around the room, I’m unsure what to do. My heart is still wild as I slip into my pajamas and prepare for bed. Brushing my teeth, his words ring loud in my head. “Sleep well, sweetheart.” Replaying his words over and over, I crawl under the covers. Both my mind and my body are tired from the day. I close my eyes with visions of Westin dancing in my mind, and then I’m startled awake by the phone in the room.

  Right away, I know it’s him.
“Hello,” I answer softly.

  “Hey,” he says in his gruff voice, and I love the tone, so deep and strong. “Will you have breakfast with me in the morning?”

  “Sure,” I tell him.

  “You know I love your accent.”

  “I don’t have an accent,” I retort.

  “Come on, Sasha, you totally do, and it’s hot as fuck.”

  My cheeks flush with his words. “Then, so do you.”

  “I do, but it’s nothing like yours.”

  “Whatever, did you call for anything else besides breakfast?” The anticipation of knowing I’ll see him in the morning has me curling my toes, and I have no clue why my mind is going there.

  “Yes, but we’ll discuss it in the morning.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Because you need to rest. Good night, Sasha.” And just like that, he is gone again, leaving me breathless and wanting more. I hang up the phone and roll over. My mind is filled with all things Westin, and I’m sure as soon as I fall asleep I’ll be rewarded with a fabulous dream, or at least I hope I will be.

  11

  Westin

  My insides are full of nervousness as I wake up. This is not a feeling I’m used to, but it’s how things have been since I met Sasha. The way she makes me feel is something I don’t know how to handle. Like right now, my cock is rock hard and as I lift the covers, I look down at it and wish she were here to relieve the tension. But she isn’t, so I take matters into my own hand. I tightly grip the base of my shaft and then squeeze upward, causing all the blood to rush to the tip and feeling the first bit of relief I’ve had since I dropped her at her room last night.

  My eyes are closed, and I keep jerking myself, filling my thoughts with images of Sasha. With the things I’d do to her, given the chance. I’d spread her pussy lips wide, slam into her so hard she’d come from that one thrust. I bet she’s tight and I could make her go wild.

  Jesus, I’d fuck her so good.

  I can picture it now: her wailing beneath me, screaming my name, begging me for more. The vision pushes me over the edge.

  “Motherfucker,” I grunt through my gritted teeth, my cum spraying freely. God, I’m getting weak, I never come that fast—ever.

  I remove my t-shirt to clean myself up, and suddenly there is a knock on my door. I scramble out of bed. “One sec,” I holler having no clue who is here, but something in the back of my mind is telling me it’s her.

  I yank on my discarded shorts from the floor, making my way across the room. And as I look down, my fucking dick is still hard.

  Really?

  There is another knock, and I look down at my shaft like it’s going to listen to me as I silently plead with it to go down, but it doesn’t. “Who is it?” I finally ask, hoping it’s just housekeeping or someone in the wrong room so I won’t even have to answer the door.

  “It’s Sasha,” she says making me go into panic mode.

  My eyes search the room for anything I can cover myself up with. Running to the bathroom I snatch a towel to wrap around my waist before opening the door.

  Christ, she is as stunning as ever. She’s wearing a tight navy blue dress, showing me every inch of that perfect body I want to get to know.

  “Come in,” I say and gesture her inside “Sorry, I was just getting in the shower,” I lie to her.

  “It’s okay, I was worried you were standing me up for breakfast.”

  “No way, why would you think that?”

  “Uh, maybe because I have a meeting at nine and it’s eight thirty?”

  “What meeting?” I ask, really fucking confused.

  “With the contractors?”

  “Shit!” I had no idea about it, but since our last secretary quit, it makes sense I’m not keeping up with appointments. Add to that everything going on with my cousin, and Dex’s mind has been consumed with other issues that he has no time to remind me. It’s my own fault for not staying on top of my calendar, but in my own defense, Sasha has had my mind a little occupied.

  “Let me get dressed, and we’ll go,” I tell her. She gives me a smile, one that makes me want to kiss the side of her mouth.

  “Go!” she yells at me as I’m apparently staring longer than I should be. Heading into the bathroom, I quickly brush my teeth and wet my hair. Then I dress so we can leave.

  “Ready?” I ask her, and she nods with a tiny grin on her face.

  “What’s with the smile?” I ask as we head out of my room.

  “Nothing.”

  She can deny it all she wants, but I know she feels it too. The insanely strong connection that we share is as clear as the sky is blue. And for the first time in my life, I’m fucking ecstatic about it.

  12

  Sasha

  “So what you’re telling me is TIC brokers relationships for people?” I ask Westin, still in shock from his confession that TIC stands for The Infidelity Corporation.

  “What else would they be doing with the level of security this project has?”

  “Maybe they are private investigators,” I blurt out, feeling very brave after my third gin and tonic.

  “No way. That wouldn’t be a secret. Have you googled TIC?” he asks me, and I giggle shaking my head. “There is nothing online about them or The Infidelity Corporation, for that matter. Both are ghosts.”

  “There’s no way to know what they do, then. It’s like trying to figure out what Area 51 does.”

  “I’d normally agree, but I know more. If I tell you this, it can never leave your lips, okay?” His brow furrows, and he nervously scratches the back of his neck while I wait for him to continue. But he doesn’t. Instead, he signals to the waitress that we need another round of drinks. “I’m waiting,” I remind him, and he looks deep into my eyes, the way he has been doing all day long.

  “Promise me you’ll never repeat it.”

  “I promise,” I answer him quickly, not sure how I’ll feel about that agreement after his revelation.

  “I was approached by someone years ago at a black tie event for my mother's organization. She was a friend of the family and said I’d get paid five-thousand dollars to interview with The Infidelity Corporation.”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  “Swear to God.”

  “Did you do it?”

  “I planned on it, but that night after the event both my parents died in a car accident on their way home.”

  “Oh, my God, Westin, I’m so sorry.” I place my hand on his and grab hold of him. He squeezes my hand back and says to me, “It’s okay, it was a long time ago.” His expression seems genuine and I have no idea how he can be okay with losing both his parents. I’d die if I ever lost mine.

  “Why do you think they picked us?” I ask.

  He loosens his tie, looking me up and down. It’s as if he’s searching for the right words. “I think they picked me because I already know their secret and you . . . I think someone wants you to join the corporation.”

  Oh God, what does that even mean?

  “Who would want that?” I ask.

  “Are you kidding me? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You’re a thousand out of a ten, Sasha. I could be wrong, but from what I know about the company, they are the smartest people in the world, and everything they do has a reason behind it.”

  “I don’t want a relationship brokered for me, Westin.”

  “That’s a good thing for me, then. But they are tough to say no to.”

  “I don’t care what they’d offer me, I’d say no. I know us sounds totally crazy, and you don’t date people you work with, but I want this.” And I point between the two of us. I haven’t the slightest clue what he’s thinking. But I know regardless of this new revelation, the logical part of my brain wants him and no one else. It doesn’t matter if I end up heartbroken, I don’t care, it’s worth the risk. Since I met Westin, he’s all I can think about. As crazy as it sounds, I’d let him have me on top of this table, in the middle of this restaurant right n
ow if he wanted to.

  He smirks, confirming that he agrees and there is no way this is not happening. The waiter sets the check on the table, and Westin takes out enough cash to cover it.

  “So, it’s settled?” he asks me as I swallow the last sip of my drink, and I don’t even have the words to respond to him. A huge smile covers my face, giving him his answer. He takes me by the hand and leads me away from the table, outside to his waiting car.

  As we sit in the back seat, the air between us feels stiff, and I have no clue what is going on. Westin is on his phone, and I nervously look out the window. Then I hear the click of him locking his phone and look over to see him placing it in his coat pocket.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Where are we going?”

  “Where do you want to go?” he asks me with a grin on his face as his hand comes slowly toward me. He slides it into the top of my hair and slowly runs it through to the tips. I smile, feeling all warm and giddy from his attention. And even though I fought things in the beginning, I’m thrilled to be with him now. It’s not more than five minutes before we pull back up to the hotel. Westin gets out and then opens my door to help me.

  Together we walk back inside like we did last night. The only difference this time is instead of resting his arm on my back, he wraps his fingers around mine to hold my hand.

  “Are you good with things?” he asks, and I nod having no words. Even though I just learned that the company we are working for brokers relationships and might want me to join, I know with Westin by my side, none of that matters.

  The elevator doors open to our floor, causing me to instantly feel a rage of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. Westin is still gripping my hand tightly, and as we make our way down the hall, I’m nervous on so many levels. Then he blazes past my room and my heart skyrockets. It’s clear he’s taking me to his, and there is no stopping what’s meant to happen.