by Mia Asher
“There’re a few risks worth taking in this life,” she says, grabbing my hand. “And love? Love is one of them, even if you don’t know how it will end. Quit your ice queen act, drop your resting bitch face, and let things happen. You might be surprised at how they turn out. And, FYI, everyone is fucked up. Some people are just better at hiding it than others.”
We stop mid-conversation when we hear the glass doors open and close. I turn toward the entrance, a ready smile on my face for the next customer.
But I freeze.
Because standing in front of me is Lawrence Rothschild looking as sinfully handsome as I remembered him. He’s with a large party of suits, but my eyes only see him, drink him in, savor him, all men fading to a meaningless background next to him. As we stare at each other, I feel my body coming alive with desire—with an attraction that would be foolish to deny.
I clear my throat, pulling myself together. “Welcome to Homme,” I say, my voice trembling slightly.
He smiles an easy smile, one that charms and unarms me at the same time. One that lets me know he’s aware of how unsettling his presence is to me. One that pushes Ronan out of my head. “Hello Blaire.”
My name on his lips is a soft caress and as inebriating as a kiss.
He’s smoke; dark, dark smoke that clouds my senses, whispers against my skin, and fills up my lungs, polluting me with his intoxicating beauty. I’m about to answer him when I hear Elly politely excuse herself, saying that she has to get back to work. As she’s passing by me, she whispers in my ear, “Don’t sabotage yourself.”
Focusing on Lawrence and his party, I nod without looking at her. Her warning angers me. She tells me not to sabotage myself, but what she doesn’t realize is that my feelings for Ronan already have.
I’m changing.
It started with little things such as my clothes and my hair, even my makeup—less plastic, less suggestive, natural and soft. And today, it’s work. I usually go over the schedule as soon as I get to the restaurant, especially if I’m not at work the day before when the confirmation calls go out. I like having an idea of who will be dining with us and how busy we’ll be. I’m annoyed at myself because I’ve been too preoccupied with a man, letting my emotions mess with my head and my priorities, and not doing my job properly. Because if my priorities were straight, if I had my act together, I would have known that Lawrence, or as his name appears on the computer, Mr. Rothschild, had a reservation this afternoon.
Ronan and his sweet kisses have managed to turn my world upside down in a matter of weeks, making me feel as though I’m losing control over my own life. I’m breaking my number one rule which is to never think with my heart, and that’s going to get me hurt. The heart is stupid. The heart is easily fooled, leaving you exposed and weak. And I’m angry with myself for allowing it to happen in the first place.
My manager, Carl, must have recognized Lawrence because before I have time to utter a word, he’s standing next to me, welcoming him. He tells him that his table is ready and that it would be his pleasure to take him to it.
Lawrence doesn’t even bother looking at him, his eyes holding mine captive, devouring me. “Actually, I’d like to have a word with Ms. White first.” He pauses, the hint of a smile promising everything that is forbidden and wonderful on his lips. “Privately.”
We’re in Carl’s office.
I’m standing in front of the metal desk and Lawrence is by the door, an entire room between us, yet I swear I can feel him as though he is next to me and our bodies are touching. We stare at each other in silence, tension making the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
With his hands in his front pockets, his stance is relaxed and imposing all at once, but he doesn’t fool me. He wants to intimidate me. He wants me to be the first one to break. However, I know how to play his game. I cross my arms and continue to stare at him in silence.
He’s the first one to speak.
“I misjudged you. I thought that you would call, and I’m never wrong.” He tilts his head to the side, his sardonic smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle with laugh lines. “I must say it’s a novel thing, and one that I don’t enjoy.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything. But if you must know, I met someone.”
He raises an eyebrow, probably thinking about Walker, and I have the decency to blush. “Someone else.”
He chuckles. "And let me guess, this someone else, he's special?"
Suddenly I can’t meet his eyes, so I focus on his burgundy tie, admiring the pattern. “Yes, he’s very special. He’s different … he’s perfect.”
“Don’t be so naïve, Blaire. He’s human, therefore, flawed.” Lawrence closes the space between us in a few ground-eating strides. When he’s standing not even an inch away from me, I look up quickly and get lost in his green gaze. The color reminds me of an Amazonian jungle—so rich, so bright, endless.
The attraction undeniable, I watch him lift his large hands, cupping my face gently but with resolve. When his cool skin comes into contact with mine, I shudder as he crumbles my defenses with his tempting touch. He caresses my cheek, noticing the slight trembling of my body. “Would you like me to stop?”
As I look into his eyes, I know that I can’t lie to him. “No.”
“What is it about you that won’t let me get you out of my mind? Is it your beauty?” Lawrence asks as the pad of his finger traces the arch of my eyebrow, the caress gentle as the summer breeze. “Your smell?” He lowers his face, tracing my jawline with the tip of his nose ever so slowly, ever so decadently. His soft, warm breath kisses my skin and makes me shudder. “The feel of you?” He brushes my hair out of the way with the back of his fingers. They leave a burning trail behind as he kisses the nape of my neck. “Or is it the way you taste?”
I’m enveloped in a hazy cloud of lust for a man I don’t know. My chest rises and falls faster and faster as I gasp for air, his closeness making me feel as though I cannot breathe. The room spins. The temperature rises. I have to clench my hands tightly to stop myself from reaching out and touching him, the need to feel him under my palms overwhelming. The magnetism—the pull between us—growing stronger with each second that passes by, and I’m powerless to stop it. He’s gravity and I’m the falling apple doomed to hit the ground. But Lawrence’s hold on me goes beyond the physical. Lawrence and his luring words speak to the dark Blaire, to the Blaire I have to be, making it impossible for me to ignore him and his advances. That Blaire wants him. That Blaire can’t say no to him.
Releasing a shaky breath, I say, “I’ve thought about you.”
“Even with this special someone in your life?”
I lick my lips. His attention arrested, his gaze follows the tip of my tongue as it slides across my mouth.
“Yes. And I hate myself for it.”
Silently, he traces my lower lip, wetting the pad of his thumb with the moisture that my tongue has left behind. I watch him raise his finger to his mouth, sucking it—tasting me. My core pulsates with hunger for those lips, for that mouth. The images of myself riding his face flash through my mind like blinking neon lights.
“My darling, you want me as much as I want you. Don’t fight it.”
I close my eyes momentarily as I’m hit in the chest by a rock heavy with guilt and self-disgust.
Ronan.
“Why are you doing this to me? I’m trying so hard to do the right thing for once.”
“Because this”—he buries his hands in my hair and pulls me toward him, bridging the space between our faces—“is inevitable.” Then he kisses me fiercely, and I swear I can feel the ground beneath my feet shake. His mouth, his lips, his tongue taste like sin but feel like heaven, making me forget momentarily that there’s a man with laughing eyes waiting for me back at his apartment.
As we pull apart, he says, “Leave work. Come with me. My place is nearby.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”
I want to say that I don’t want to, but the words get stuck in my throat. “You know the answer … but I can’t. I’ve met someone who I really, really like. He’s very special.”
“And yet you’re here alone with me, repeating over and over how special he is. I wonder, is it because you’re trying to convince yourself of that fact?”
I place my hands on his chest, but I don’t push him away. “I’m leaving. I’m not even sure why I’m still here.”
“I’ll tell you why,” he says roughly. He lowers his hand between my legs, pushing through the fabric. I grab his shoulders for support and close my eyes as I feel him probing … imprinting me on his palm … on the length of his fingers. A desire so intense, I can’t think, I can’t move, shatters me to pieces. Ronan is far, far away.
“You feel this?” Lawrence says, thrusting deeper against the material. “Your pussy is so warm, I know you're soaking wet for me.” Letting go of me, he raises the same hand that was rubbing me not a moment ago to his nose and takes a deep breath, smelling me on his fingers. “Your body, your scent, they betray you, Blaire.”
And, he’s right. I want him. A baser part of me, where lust, greed, and desire rule my mind, wants Lawrence and all of his millions. That same part of me wants him to fuck me until he eradicates Ronan and all the happiness he’s brought into my life from my mind.
“Now look at me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want me.”
I stare at him, our eyes locked in a war with no winner in sight. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar.”
Pleased, he smiles. “When you get bored playing house with your special someone, give me a call.”
“I won’t,” I say, but even the words sound empty to my ears.
“Oh, but you will, Blaire. And you know it.”
And then he turns, heads to the door, opening it, and walks out without once looking back.
AS SOON AS I’M DONE WITH WORK, I go straight to Ronan’s apartment. I don’t bother saying goodbye to Elly or calling Ronan to let him know that I’m on my way to his place. The less I think, the better it is.
All I know is that I must see Ronan.
All I know is that Lawrence is still in my head, playing games with me—screwing with my peace of mind.
Damn him.
I knock on Ronan’s door harder than necessary, my knuckles stinging. When he opens the door, I walk in without waiting for him to invite me. The urgency to be with him grows stronger with each minute that passes. If I’m with him, if I feel his hands on me, if I hear his voice, and if I look into his eyes, he’ll make the other Blaire—the one who wants Lawrence and everything he offers—disappear. He’ll make her grow quiet once again, her wants and pragmatism forgotten.
He shuts the door behind me. “Blaire? I thought you were—”
Without saying a word, I close the space between us until our bodies connect. The outline of his dick touches my stomach, my breasts push against his hard chest, and the tips of my nipples tingle with desire. A primal urgency to have him, to take him, pulsates like the beating of my heart inside me.
“Ronan,” I breathe against his lips. “Shut up and kiss me.”
I grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him toward me, and kiss him. Our tongues clash in an open-mouthed battle, but it’s not enough. Craving more of him, yearning for more of him, I deepen the kiss until he’s everywhere. As liquid fire spreads through my bloodstream, I guide my hand past the waistline of his jeans and inside his boxer briefs, wrapping my fingers around his cock and pumping it.
He curses and begins to undress me, swiftly getting rid of my skirt and my panties. When he’s about to remove my shirt, I pull my hand out of his jeans. “Not here, your bedroom.”
His chest quickly rises and falls, his breathing heavy. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”
I walk toward his room as I remove the rest of my clothes. I glance back, looking at him, and freeze. Even though I can see desire in his eyes, it’s the tenderness behind it that makes me want to break down and weep.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.
When we’re in his room, surrounded by warmth, books, and photographs of his travels, I push him toward the bed. “You stay here.”
I move to his wooden chair by his desk where his camera and proofs are. I bite my lower lip, heat gathering in my core and a tingling sensation spreading through my pussy as I sense his eyes on me.
I sit on the chair, which happens to be across from him, my bare ass and back gliding across the smooth surface. Ronan watches me closely, his gaze, sparking with lust, roving over my figure. It reminds me of the way Lawrence looked at me back in Carl’s office.
I watch Ronan get undressed. His black vintage Beatles tee goes first, his jeans next, and last but not least, his briefs. His cock, so hard, points toward his stomach. Ronan sits on the bed with his back against the headboard and his hardness in his hand, leisurely stroking himself.
A blatant smile on my lips, I spread my legs open and place them over the wooden arms. I’m completely exposed in this position as I cup my breasts, playing with them. The desire I see in his eyes is reassurance enough. It looks like he wants to do very bad, naughty things to me, and I am a more than willing victim. I want to be corrupted. I want to forget what happened with Lawrence. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t. My body still vibrates with the memory of his touch, his kiss, how it felt when his fingers touched me there.
“Watch me,” I say, trying to push memories of a green-eyed man out of my head.
Slowly, provocatively, I lower my hand to my pussy, spread my swollen lips apart, and rub my clit with the pad of my index finger. The slight pressure. The back and forth. The sweet humming of my senses as they come alive with my touch. God, I’m wet.
“Mmm, this feels good,” I taunt as I begin to fuck myself, spreading my legs wider for him to see my fingers disappear inside me. My head lolls back, the sensation of them moving in and out of me, impaling me, heady and powerful.
I rub myself.
I grind on my hand.
I feel filthy, but I love it.
The sound of our breathing, the feel of my fingers inside me, my wet pussy contracting around them, the smell of arousal in the room and knowing that Ronan is seeing me masturbate inebriates my senses.
I’m drunk with lust … with him.
Ronan begins to thrust harder into his hand. A smug, half smile on his lips, he watches me watch him pump his cock up and down in his fist, the pace increasing, his hold tightening. My mouth waters, the throbbing and swollen head inviting me to suck it.
“Would you like a taste?” I pull my soaked fingers out and suck them clean, tasting myself on them. “Mmm…” I moan. “So good.”
Ronan, the bastard, shakes his head as a smug smirk graces his face. “No, I’m good.”
And then, because I’m not one to deny myself of bodily pleasures, I decide I’ve had enough. I’m feverish with want and nothing but his beautiful cock will do.
I stand up, my legs stiff and fire burning through me, and walk back to bed. When I’m standing next to him, I put my nose below his ear and breathe in his aroma of man mixed with arousal. Noticing the way his muscles tense by my nearness makes me smile.
“Really?” I whisper, licking his ear.
With my back facing him, I crawl into bed on all fours. In this position, I’m primed for him to take me from behind, and that’s what I want. I want him to claim me in the most animalistic way. I want him to fuck the guilt out of me, and mark me as his own over and over again.
I glance back and wink at him saucily. Yes, it’s an invitation, or a dare, and one I hope he accepts. With one hand, I spread my ass cheeks, burying my middle finger in my opening, and show him exactly where I want him, where I need him.
Ronan doesn’t disappoint.
Our gazes connect, promises of the pleasure to come shining in them. Ronan kneels right behind me as he grabs a silver package from
the nightstand, rips it open, and rolls it over his hardness.
He slaps my ass once, twice, making it sting just so he can soothe the pain with his tongue a second later. I watch him wet his right thumb with his mouth and lower it between the curves of my ass as he begins to glide the head of his cock against my entrance. He spreads open the folds of my pussy with it, coating himself in my desire, the tip caressing my clit. A purr escapes my mouth when I feel the rough skin of his thumb play with my forbidden place, teasing me, rubbing me to hell and back.
“Please,” I beg.
He shakes his head, not even bothering to hide his smile anymore. “Not yet.”
At that, I laugh out loud but it sounds more like a sob, my body shaking with need. He’s making me pay for my chair stunt.
“Ronan.” I pause when his thumb disappears inside me. I bite my lip and close my eyes momentarily as I feel him inching his way in. Pain becomes illicit pleasure, dizzying in its power. “Oh, God.”
Gently, he pulls out his finger, kisses my lower back, flips me over, and covers my body with his. “Like this.”
Holding my arms above my head with his hands, I wrap my legs around his waist as he enters me in one swift, deep thrust. His punishing hardness fills me to the hilt, making me cry in ecstasy. By now my need for him doesn’t burn—it sears through me.
But as he continues to take me, his hips pumping in and out of me, the familiar sense of unworthiness whenever I’m with him comes over me. The only difference this time is that I know I’m not worthy of him.
“Why me, Ronan?” I ask, grabbing his ass and pulling him deeper inside of me. The penetration so intense, I moan, feeling dizzy.
He stops thrusting, his pulsating cock buried inside me. “Because when I look at you, I see everything I want and everything I need.”