The Beat Match

by Kelly Siskind

  He was spiraling because of her. Because he believed his lies about Leo had ruined any chance at a future together. “I’m on my way,” Annie said.

  20

  Weston massaged his temple as he analyzed the spreadsheet on his computer. Dollars going out. More funding needed. Investors with cold feet. A new project that required him to write a detailed business plan. All in a day’s work, but wrangling his brain on target was a losing battle. Work was supposed to be the one place where he could shut out the world. Forget the bad. Bury it under numbers and spreadsheets until he looked up at the end of the day and couldn’t remember what time it was or if he’d eaten dinner.

  No longer.

  He eyed the metal bull on his coffee table. The bronze sculpture was small and striking. The beast looked ready to buck, its muscles coiled, a braided rope flying from the animal’s writhing neck. Annie had once said Weston made her feel like that bull, caged and controlled.

  “But the bull’s getting away,” Weston had said, confused by the statement. “He broke the rope.”

  “Of course you’d think that,” she’d said.

  He had purchased the sculpture, seeing power in the piece, the innate drive to break free and forge your own path. But maybe Annie had been right. Maybe the flying rope was only a tease of freedom, as though the beast was within grabbing distance of its master. Exactly how he felt these days, tied to the one person who’d tamed his inner beast, unable to reach her, too weak to pull away.

  The numbers on his screen blurred slightly, merged into fuzzy lines. He looked at Leo’s picture. A habit he’d been indulging in more since that horrid talk with Annie. “I fucked up, buddy.” His computer’s fan buzzed slightly. The air conditioner hummed. “My stupidity got you killed, and now I’ve devastated your sister. The one thing you asked of me, I messed up.”

  Take care of Annie. She has no one.

  How could Weston have been so careless with her heart? He should have told her the truth from the start. Bucked up, been a man, admitted he was the reason Leo had died. She probably would have held it against him. They never would have gotten this close. He wouldn’t feel like he was dying inside, and she wouldn’t have buckled under his dreadful admission.

  All this time, he’d been worried he’d hurt her by running when things got intense. All he wanted to do now was run toward her, regardless of the emotional noose tightening around his neck. Surely that meant he could handle a real relationship. He hoped, at least. But she’d asked him to stay away.

  His phone buzzed. He rushed to check the screen, a pathetic junkie hoping for an Annie fix, but the text wasn’t from Annie.

  Rosanna: We have a problem.

  Just what he needed.

  Weston: Did you sink another yacht?

  Rosanna: Hilarious, but no. I was tagged on Instagram. Someone caught me out with Ricardo.

  He didn’t remember which guy Ricardo was.

  Weston: Incriminating?

  Rosanna: Sucking face. So, yeah.

  He wanted to be furious at her carelessness, but if Annie came back to him, he wouldn’t risk her feelings by continuing this ruse. Maybe he should force Annie’s hand now, show up at her apartment. Beg her to give him another chance he didn’t deserve, or offer to just talk if that was what she needed. He rubbed his eyes and planted his elbows on his desk. If she gave him a second chance, he’d be whatever she needed.

  As for this predicament, the business merger would have to stand on its own merit, and Rosanna would have to handle her wild ways with her father.

  Weston: We’ll deal with it. Leak that we’re having problems. Have a fake break up to end our fake relationship. I’ll make sure the merger isn’t affected.

  Because dating Karim’s daughter should never have been part of the offer.

  Rosanna: I actually want to talk to you about the merger.

  His phone rang, Rosanna calling through. “Are you alone?”

  A truer statement there never was. “Unfortunately.”

  “You sound pathetic. Are you on the outs with Annie?”

  “What’s going on with the merger?”

  She made a disgusted noise. “You are such a dude, ignoring a personal question. But fine, we have more important things to discuss.”

  “I’m listening.” Sort of. His focus was shot to shit these days.

  “You said a while back DLP was shady, doing underhanded dealings.”

  That got his attention. He swiveled in his chair and stared out the window as he spoke. “Did something happen?”

  “Not in so many words, but I’m worried about you. My father had a party recently, a work function hosted at a Greenwich restaurant. One of the higher ups at DLP popped by, and my father didn’t give him the time of day. Dad seemed pissed he crashed the party. No big deal, but I went outside to make a call and saw the DLP guy down the block, yelling at someone on his phone. It was raining, so I hid under my umbrella and got close enough to eavesdrop. I only caught the end of the conversation, but—”

  “Wes?”

  Weston fumbled and dropped his phone, spinning in his chair as his eyes shot to Annie.

  He hadn’t heard her knock or walk in, but she was here, stunning in a whimsical dress, the thin fabric multicolored and lively, one thin strap slipping off her shoulder. He shoved his chair back and snatched the phone from his floor. “I’ll call you later. Something’s come up.”

  “No. Not later.” Rosanna’s voice took on a screechy high pitch. “Seriously, Weston—this is important.”

  “Not as important as Annie.”

  “I’m not kidding. I’m worr—”

  He hung up on Rosanna. She’d live, and he’d apologize later. He’d been waiting on Annie for five days that felt like five years, and if he didn’t touch her in five seconds he would combust. He rounded his desk, had her in his arms and against his chest before he took a full breath. “You’re here,” he murmured into her hair.

  She clutched the back of his suit jacket and burrowed into him. “I am.”

  They stood like that so long he worried he was suffocating her. He kissed the top of her hair, breathed her in—sage, honey, sadness he wished she didn’t feel. He pulled back to see her face. Jesus. “You’re crying again. I’ve made you cry again.”

  She shook her head, not bothering to hide her tears the way she had at his apartment. “I’m just overwhelmed. Sad but also happy. And I…” Her voice cracked as more tears fell. “I’ve been trying to keep myself together for so long I’ve kept people, including you, at a distance. That’s why I never talked about Leo with you, and why I couldn’t call you this week. I’m not mad at you. I don’t blame you for his death. I’m scared if I start crying I won’t stop.”

  He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. Not for that. He cupped her wet cheeks, his blood thundering at the simple touch. “I should have met Leo when he asked.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  Blunt truth. Pain lanced through him. “It should have been me.”

  She shoved him, palms smacked hard against his chest. “Don’t ever say that. God, you’re an idiot. Don’t you ever say that. It shouldn’t have been either of you.”

  Now she looked like she wanted to hit him, a hard punch he could use. “They were my stupid choices. The consequences should have been mine.”

  “I know you were a stupid kid, Wes. That isn’t breaking news. But I didn’t know you were a stupid adult.”

  He tugged down his tie, unable to form a reply. Stupid was his motto these days.

  She huffed out a breath. “We were all stupid back then. Leo left me home alone once, before our mother OD’d. He told me to make dinner, but I didn’t cook the chicken through. I was eight. He never forgave himself for how sick I got. And I once thought I wanted to be a ninja. I started throwing knives at home and one landed in Leo’s thigh. We all did stupid shit that could have gone sideways.”

  “None of that actually did go sideways. You didn’t get someone killed.”

>   “You didn’t kill him!” He flinched at her shout. More tears tracked her cheeks. “I’m tired, Wes. I’m tired of not talking about Leo. I’m tired of keeping friends at arm’s length when what I need is to scream and talk and smile about the good times with Leo. I also need to tell you that what you did sucked. It hurt to hear it, hurts to think about it, but you were a kid. And yeah, you should have told me the truth. But what’s done is done. Life is unfair. Beating yourself up for mistakes that were out of your control doesn’t help.”

  He felt like sagging to the floor, some of the guilt he’d lived with leaching out as he exhaled. Remorse over Leo would always sit heavy on his heart. No wise words from Annie or any therapist would erase that. But he was tired, too. Tired of hating himself for one reckless night. “I miss him so much.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, then looked at him, her chin ticked up. “So do I. But you know what else I’m tired of?”

  He was tired of not kissing her. That much he knew. He wanted to lay her out on his desk, in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows, fall to his knees, taste her, grovel, supplicate, make her moan until she’d forgiven him his failings. Promise to try his hardest. Be worthy of her trust. “What are you tired of?” he murmured.

  Her irises were a metallic green, shining with tears, a hard swirl of cedar setting off their vibrancy. “I’m tired of pretending I’m not in love with you, even though admitting as much might send you running. And this is the real me, messy and blotchy with a runny nose and mascara dripping down my face, which I should never have put on, but I missed you and wanted to look pretty even though it totally backfired. At least I don’t have towels sticking out from under my arms, so there’s that, but I’m not always strong, and I might need to lean on you sometimes. So like I said, this is the real me, and I’m hoping it’s enough for you.”

  “Are you done talking?” He hadn’t heard much after in love with you.

  She sniffled and nodded.

  He crushed his lips against hers, kissed her so hard and gathered her so tightly he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He grunted into her open mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” he said between kisses. “I’ve never… With you—it feels like I’ve wanted you forever.”

  “Since I sprouted boobs?”

  He laughed hoarsely, nearly dropping her on the floor. “Probably, but that makes me feel like a dirty old man.”

  “You can thank Marjory for that visual. And I’m sorry, too.”

  “For what?” He kissed her again, softer this time, unable to say what he truly felt. Be patient with me. Help me if I fuck up. I love you. He couldn’t force out the words. He secured his grip on her instead, groaned at the hot press of their bodies.

  She sighed. “I’m sorry it took me so long to talk to you, but I see your new best friend has kept you company.” She hooked her legs tighter around his waist and pointed at Felix.

  He’d forgotten the bunny was in his office. He blinked and saw his phone on his desk. His call with Rosanna felt like hours ago. He’d have to connect with her later, find out what DLP antics had her worried. For now he couldn’t think about much besides how good it felt to have Annie in his arms, wrapped around him again, joking with him.

  “Felix has been a good listener,” Wes said into Annie’s neck, “but he’s a poor substitute for you. And don’t apologize for needing time to figure things out or for needing support. I hate seeing you upset, but it means you trust me enough to let go. I want you messy, Squirrel.”

  “I want you always.”

  “Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

  Wes had her on the desk, the skirt of her dress hitched around her waist as he worked his hand into her underwear. She gasped. “Are we really doing this in your office?”

  “We will be doing this anywhere and everywhere I have you alone. Get used to it.”

  He curled and twisted his fingers. Her inner muscles clenched. She saw stars and bit her tongue to keep from crying out as he dropped to his knees, spread her wide, and gave her a long lick. Her head dropped back. She braced her sandaled feet on his powerful shoulders, couldn’t believe she was in Wes’s office, spread on his desk, his face between her thighs. She dissolved in seconds, then tugged him up by his hair, kissed him, loving the taste of herself on his tongue.

  More. She wanted more, all of him in her mouth, hard against the back of her throat.

  She pushed him to the floor, forced him onto his back and unzipped his fly. She swore at the velvet-hard feel of him.

  “Jesus, Annie.” His hips jerked. He pushed up to his elbows, his eyes darker and slitted with lust. “We don’t finish this way. I want to be inside you when I come.”

  A plan she could get behind. For now she explored his length, used the wet glide of her tongue and mouth to make Wes moan. He spread his muscular thighs, his expensive slacks bunched under his knees. She pushed up his dress shirt, rubbed one hand over his contracting abs, felt each pulse as he fought his release.

  “Stop.” He gripped her hair. Not too rough, but the tug sent tingles down her spine. He got to his feet, stumbling slightly as he manhandled her back onto his desk. Then he was inside her, one smooth stroke that made them both cry out.

  “This,” he said, ferocity in the one sharp word. “This is us. Always. You and me.”

  She surged to meet him, her butt half off the desk and half on. A buzzing sound rang out. They ignored it. He gripped her tightly, kept her secure, sliding in and out so thoroughly she felt it in her toes. “I love you.”

  He looked slightly stunned, but he kept moving, one smooth thrust as he pushed deeper. He didn’t say the words back. It stung briefly, but Wes bent down, kissed her hard, cradled her back so it didn’t rub too roughly against his desk as they crashed together. This. He was right about this. Joy so full to bursting it hurt as they tipped into oblivion together, clutching each other and murmuring incoherent words.

  They hung on to each other afterward, a deep contentment making her bones heavy. He slipped out of her slowly, used some tissues to clean them up, then fixed his clothes while she did the same, both of them sneaking tender glances at each other. His phone buzzed, the same noise she’d heard while defiling his desk.

  “Someone wants to get ahold of you.”

  They were standing by his coffee table, but he didn’t glance at his desk. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her again. Pressed small kisses all over her face. “Does it look like I care?”

  “If people start calling me Yoko Ono because you can’t focus on work and Aldrich Pharma goes to hell in handbasket, I’ll be pissed. Answer it.”

  He pushed her hair to the side, rubbed his nose along her neck. “Come over tonight. Show me the video feed. Let’s make music together.”

  God, she loved the sound of that. “I have to work tonight.”

  “Come over after.”

  More buzzing from his desk. “Weston, please check your phone.”

  He nosed her neck again, then straightened. “Only when you agree to tonight.”

  Was he worried she’d change her mind? Fall out of love with him if given more time to think? “Wes?”

  He tipped his head, watched her intently.

  “We’re good. I might still get frustrated and sad about Leo. I might need space occasionally while I deal with everything, but nothing changes this.” She gestured between them. “Nothing comes between us. Unless you’re worried about Rosanna and the fake-dating thing.”

  He dragged his hand through his sex-mussed hair. “The Rosanna angle went bust today, but even if it hadn’t, I would’ve put a stop to it. Whatever happens from here on out, we’re together, publicly and privately. There will be no other women but you, and I’ll do my best not to panic about my…issues. And you won’t be going on any more dates with Duncan. I don’t even like you talking to the guy.”

  “You can’t dictate who I talk to.”

  “No, I can’t.” He focused on the floor for a beat.
“But I get irrationally jealous when I see you with him.”

  She rubbed her sternum, surprised by her racing heart. “That night at Angelonia, Duncan and I were only out as friends. He’s nice and I like him, and I plan to stay friends with him, but I promise you I’m not interested in anything more with him. And thank you for ending the ruse with Rosanna. I was pretty jealous over her, too. But what about your father?”

  His glanced up sharply. “What does my father have to do with us?”

  Their eavesdropped conversation the night she’d told Wes she had to switch foster homes seemed like forever ago, but she’d never forget Victor S. Aldrich’s harsh words. Her mother died with a needle in her arm. Her father is some miscreant who disappeared. Her brother got shot in a seedy club. She’s not welcome in this house. “Your father’s not my biggest fan. He won’t be happy we’re dating.” Something she hadn’t considered while pining for Wes.

  “My father doesn’t get a say in this.”

  “Your father’s a coldhearted man who only cares what people think.”

  Wes’s nostrils flared. “Don’t give him another thought. All that matters is us.” He brushed her hair back tenderly. “Anything you need from me, you ask. It’s yours.”

  She wished Weston’s father didn’t still unnerve her, but the man was as warm and fuzzy as an ice cube. She’d have to trust Wes in this. “I need you to take care of work so we can have fun tonight. I’ll try not to be too late.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He tried to tug her closer, but she shoved him back. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “Don’t tease me with dirty promises.”

  She gave him a wink and headed for the door but glanced back. She wanted to say those words one more time, even if he couldn’t say them back yet or didn’t feel the same: I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I can’t wait to kiss you again. But Wes had his phone in his hand, a vicious frown marring his face.

  His head flew up. “How did you get here?”

  “I took the subway…why?”