Soon the room is filled with our love sounds – the oohs, ahs and ohs, not to mention the gods, fucks, shits and occasional incoherence. We are deep in each other, deep in the moment.
“Ah! Let go, Sullivan,” he groans in command.
“Ben!” I scream.
We are both approaching our climaxes. Our bodies stiffen and with a shout, we both shatter into tiny pieces. The orgasm ripples through both of us and we hang on to each other to try to steady our convulsing bodies. My center spasms around his semi-hard erection, milking every drop of his essence. He doesn’t exit me. He stays there while we come down from our high.
That, ladies and gentlemen…was intense!
Although we didn’t want to get out of bed, hunger called loudly to both of us.
“Do you want Chinese or pizza?” I ask Ben as we both stroll into the living room half-dressed, him once again barefooted in jeans and me in my sweatshirt and undies.
“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, but I can tell he is distracted. He isn’t his usual bossy, commanding self.
“Air pie it is then,” I mutter under my breath, turning to the kitchen.
I fetch two boxes of macaroni and cheese and put the pot on to boil the spirals. Rachel and I love macaroni spirals. I hop onto the island, wanting to keep the distance between us, but that is short-lived. He crosses over to me and slips in between my legs. His look: icy.
“Is he your boyfriend?” he asks, staring at me. I suddenly feel nervous. Why does it feel like he’s intimidating me?
“What if he is?” I give him an equally intimidating stare.
“I don’t like sharing,” he says coolly.
“I’m not yours to share, Ben.” I scowl at his insinuation. No one owns me.
“And therein lies what we have to discuss.” He shifts away from me, extending his hand so he can help me off the island. I take it skeptically but with a pang of relief. He hasn’t found out anything about me.
We sit in the couch and he faces me, one leg curling under the other.
“I want you, Sullivan,” he states bluntly.
“Wow, aren’t you the romantic?” I roll my eyes.
“I have no time to go into heroics and grand romantic gestures. I state what I want and I don’t mince my words,” he says sternly. Hmm, a man after my own heart.
“I don’t want a relationship Ben.”
“With me or you don’t want one period?” This feels like a business deal somehow.
“Period,” I respond. “I’m a bad girl, Ben.”
That would usually be a line for me during sex, but I feel the need to make myself clear. “I don’t do…relationships.”
“So who was this guy you let into your bed?” he asks pointedly.
“Not that it’s any of your business…he’s some guy I met at a club last night,” I disclose.
“Do you know his name?” he questions.
“Do I need to?” I shoot back with a raised eyebrow. Why is he grilling me?
“So you go to clubs, pick up random guys, don’t bother learning their names, fuck them, then kick them out?” he assesses.
“This one guy last night, yes.” I gaze at him quizzically. “What’s with the third degree, Hayes?” I challenge.
“I want to figure you out, Sullivan.” He runs his hand through his hair, making it a disheveled sexy. Wow. Green eyes scorch through me and I suddenly feel naked.
Pulling the hem of my sweatshirt down to my knees, I thank God for the rattle of the cover of the boiling pot. I head to the kitchen, uncover the pot and empty the two boxes of macaroni into it. I stir the contents to ensure the spirals don’t stick to the bottom.
The wooden spoon shakes in my hand as I feel Ben’s presence behind me. His breathing so fierce, I can feel the hot, harsh breath at the nape of my neck. It sends chills down my spine and fills my body with want, but I clutch the spoon tighter to keep my composure.
Not paying attention, I yelp in surprise as the pot singes my index finger. I back into him and he spins me around, taking my finger to his lips and planting a rather soothing kiss to the burn. I wrench my big brown eyes to his striking green, and I almost melt under his gaze and touch.
I slowly slip my hands from his and I sigh. “What do you want from me, Ben?”
“I just want you.” He cages me in his intense gaze.
“Ben, you don’t want me. You want a Barbie doll: someone who looks good on your arm, someone who can represent you and what you stand for. I’m not that woman. I’m bad news for you, Ben,” I contend.
He doesn’t want my kind of trouble. He doesn’t even know me – the real me – for God’s sake and he’s talking about having a relationship with me. Well, neither did Jared, but that’s beside the point.
“Fuck that idealistic bullshit, Sullivan. Jesus, you’ve got me by the balls here.” He rakes his hand through his beautiful hair once more, frustrated. “Feel this.” He jerks my hand down to his erection. “We’re not even talking about sex and look what you’re doing to me.”
I swallow hard, shaking my head. He doesn’t know what he’d be getting into dating me. I’d just fall into the same old rhythm. I’d play him like a fiddle and take his money as he falls to my charm. It had been so easy with other rich men, but something about him is different. I strangely have no desire to treat him that way. He is worth much more than that and deserves a woman who would give that something more to him. That woman is just not me.
“That’s just sex, Ben. Unbridled passion.”
“But passion nonetheless. What is passion if not unbridled?” he insists.
I turn away from him and switch the stove off.
“What are you afraid of?” His voice is soft, cajoling me to face him. I do.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” My voice is almost a whisper. Why do I feel like crying? Man up, woman!
“Let me worry about that,” he soothes, cupping my chin and kissing me on the nose. “Go finish the Mac and cheese so we can eat. I’m starving.” His lips curve into a devilish smile. I sense his double entendre and smile.
But, this discussion is far from over. He might think that he’s got me, but I will turn down his advances. I can’t hurt him and I know I will.
CHAPTER 7
As we sit facing each other eating hot macaroni and cheese, I can’t help but wonder if Rachel is okay. I pick up my cell phone and dial her number. I long to hear her voice and I have to admit, I’m a little worried about her. I sent her away with a man I don’t trust…for a countryside drive. That sounds like the premise for one of those slasher films. Her voicemail comes on and a frisson of unease comes over me. Lord, please let her be okay.
“Hey Rae. How are ya? It’s not like you not to answer; although that could mean…” I trail off thinking that her having sex is a plausible reason as to why she hasn’t answered her cell and I relax a little. “I’m here having mac and cheese and thinking about you. I miss you, babe. I hope you’re okay. See you soon.” I leave her the voice message, hoping that nothing is wrong. I’d so love to kick Ryan’s ass.
Ben stares crossly at me. “Who’s Ray?”
“My roommate.”
“You live with a guy?” he inquires angrily, he releases his fork, the utensil clattering down on the dish he is eating from. I laugh at the question and his unwarranted jealousy, then I quail when he gives me an icy glare.
“No. No. Rae’s not a guy. Rachel. She’s my best friend,” I explain, fumbling to put a sentence together.
“Oh.” He resumes eating his Mac and cheese.
What? I shake out of the trance of what just happened.
“Ben,” I sigh. I know what I have to say next is going to start another argument between us and I am already exhausted.
“What do I have to do to make you say yes?” He rests his dish on the lamp stand and takes mine, putting it alongside his. “Okay, you don’t want a relationship. Let’s find a middle ground.”
“This is not a business deal, Ben,” I scold
him.
“Well, fuck, Sullivan,” he pulls me closer to him, pressing his forehead to mine. “Call the shots, Sullivan. The ball is in your court.”
I gawk at him. The pleasure has already been out of this world, and he’ll take care of me? Those should be magic words, but none of the bad in me is giving me the slightest push toward using him. I just can’t do it. What’s more, he’s giving power to me. This is what scares me. He does and says things that have me crumbling before him. His intensity frightens and arouses me all in the same breath. He wants to own me and by God, I want him to; but it is such a scary thought. He doesn’t know me, only the “me” that I’ve allowed him and others to see. I can imagine that leaving him would prove difficult if we ever got to that point. In the long run everything ends. Nothing is ever permanent – nothing can ever be – and I will make things remain so for as long as I live. No one deserves my level of fucked up.
“Ben, even if we wanted to, we couldn’t. You’re Simone’s boss and she’s one of my closest friends aside from Rae.”
“Can you please call her Rachel?” he snaps.
“You’re diverting from the point, Ben. Do you know how weird that is, fucking my friend’s boss?”
“It’s not,” he insists.
“It is to me. What if we broke up?” I contend.
“We wouldn’t be dating, remember?” he reminds me, grasping my knees.
“What if I talk about you to her? She wouldn’t see you the same way.”
“Then don’t talk about me,” he says resolutely. I let out an exasperated sigh. I can’t win with him.
“Fine,” he settles. “We won’t date, or fuck.”
I don’t know why I feel so disappointed about him giving up so quickly. It’s a strange feeling, one I shouldn’t harbor, and it irks the shit out of me.
“I have to go,” he says, getting up. His face is callous and unfeeling.
“Please don’t go,” I beg, my voice soft.
“What’s the sense in staying, Sullivan?” He is annoyed, I can tell.
He is right, though. Why would he stay? We’d probably end up having sex again, but that would be it.
He pads into my room and readies himself. Re-entering the living room, I take him all in. Am I really willing to give up all this sexiness; this rugged specimen of beautiful maleness? Damn, he is magnificent in all his tall, mesomorphic glory.
I walk to the door to let him out. I can’t resist. I lock my lips over his. Deepening the kiss, he squeezes my waist, his breathing ragged. He runs his hand up my back and grasps my ponytail and tugs it hard so my head tilts up to him. Ben kisses me hard, overpowering my mouth with his tongue. With every flick of his tongue, desire courses through my veins, hot and livid.
I am left bereft when he pulls away from me. “Fuck, Sullivan.” He adjusts himself and I can see his erection. “This…conversation…” he motions between us, “is not over.”
Ben swings the door open then slams it shut, leaving me alone in the quiet apartment. I almost want to chase after him, but knowing I’m bad news for him, I remain planted. It’s better this way.
I don’t know when Rachel came home the night before, but when I check her room, she is passed out. I had to check to make sure she was breathing, my paranoia getting the best of me. I felt bad for still thinking the worst of Ryan. He took care of my girl, so maybe I ought to ease up on the guy. I’d closed her door and breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like the worst friend, not trusting her judgment.
It is 6 a.m. now and I’d been jolted from my sleep. Green eyes had haunted me in my dreams all night. Ben is like those drugs I used to take, hard to get out of my system.
In the kitchen, I prepare myself a foamy cup of French vanilla coffee. In comfy bed slippers and a fluffy robe, I drag myself over to the chaise. Pulling my legs up and looking out at dusk over Philly, I slowly sip my delicious coffee. Philly at dusk is beautiful and quiet. There is a feeling of tranquility that I experience every time I look out of this window. I feel like nothing can touch me, I feel protected – both from my past and from myself.
Rachel disturbs my solitude with a loud yawn. “Morning, Lilah.”
Lilah is the shortened version of my real name – Delilah. Outside the apartment I am Sullivan Beal. Inside the apartment I am Delilah “Lilah” Keyes.
“Mm, I smell French vanilla.” She takes a deep breath in, inhaling the aroma of the coffee. We both love French vanilla coffee with lots of foam. It is also our beverage of choice for heartbreaks or deep thinking moments.
Rachel shuffles into the kitchen and pours herself some coffee and sprays whipped cream on the top. Walking over to me, she stops and eyes me speculatively.
“Over,” she scoots as she sits on the chaise with me. She stares at me a beat, those grey eyes studying me.
“Fluffy robe, foamy coffee, watching the dusk,” she observes. “What’s wrong?” She has the uncanny ability to always tell when something is wrong with me.
“Ben was here yesterday,” I tell her.
“Did he hurt you?” She rests her hand on my feet. I can feel her tension.
“No. No, he didn’t.” I proceed to tell her what happened yesterday, glossing over the sexual details.
“Cut the bullshit, Lilah,” she bites out. “You want him. You wouldn’t be sitting here thinking about him if you didn’t.”
“We can’t be together, Rae,” I argue. “You know I’m wrong for him. I’ll hurt him, you know it.”
“When did you start having a heart?” she debates. “You’ve never cared. Shit, you’ve never cared for anyone except Jared!”
“Come on, I care for you,” I joke, but Rachel gives me a hard stare, not taking the bait.
I sigh. “I know. And that’s what’s freaking me out. Why do I care if I hurt him?” I bury my face in Rachel’s lap. Why did I care?
Rachel strokes my hair, a comforting touch I need. “Honey, you like him. And not for his money,” she deduces. “It’s Jared all over again.”
A pained look crosses my features. I hate talking about Jared. The loss still seemed fresh at times.
I growl at Rae’s deduction. So what if I like Ben? We wouldn’t last and I’d only end up hurting him.
“I don’t want to give it another thought. Enough of my issues,” I change the subject, not wanting to give into the thought of liking Ben or losing Jared. “How was your day with Ryan?”
“Lilah, it was amazing!” Rachel gushes. A big smile parades across her face and it warms my heart to see her so happy. “We had sex in a meadow – that’s why I didn’t answer your call by the way – and we ate pizza as we drove. We took so many pictures. He owns the Bay Bridge franchise of clothing stores. You remember that chic store we went in to get you that purple dress you wore to Simone’s office party?” Yet another thing that reminds me of Ben. That dress has got to go.
“He said he saw me that day,” she continues, “but was leaving for a business lunch and couldn’t possibly turn back. It’s like fate that we met on Saturday.”
I sit listening to Rachel babble about her new guy, a guy I really don’t like, but I won’t ruin her moment. I need to let that go now.
“You want breakfast?” I ask her after we finish drinking our coffee and talking good and long about her fledgling relationship.
“Thanks, babe. Gonna take a shower. Oh, and thank you for doing my laundry.” She kisses my cheek then hops up and heads to the bathroom.
I slip my iPod into the dock and play my Monday Blues playlist. The Bangles’ Manic Monday starts playing and I hear Rachel shout yeah and I just know she’s dancing.
I busy myself in the kitchen making pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. I dish a plate for Rachel who wanders over to the island, taking a seat on one of the bar stools. She is fully dressed in a green, high-waist pencil skirt and a silky, almost see-through, cream long-sleeved blouse with ruffles in the front. She completes the look with naked pumps that match her blouse.
She gobbles up
her breakfast as she is cutting it close to being late. She is a receptionist at a real estate company. She loves her job, but wants to be a real estate agent more than anything.
“Okay, I’ll see you later babe,” she says before kissing my cheek. “How do I look?”
“Hot as usual,” I tell her.
“Thank you. Okay, I’m gone.”
I am once again left alone. What am I going to do all day? Maybe I’ll head up to UPenn and spend the day at the library. My decision made, I get a quick shower then amble into my room, searching through my drawers for something to wear.
My ringtone startles me and I answer. It’s Simone.
“Hey, Simone,” I greet her sweetly. I haven’t seen her all weekend.
“He fired me.” Simone’s distraught voice shakes me over the phone. “He just called me in his office and fired me.”
“Who?” I ask her, already suspecting who she is referring to. The bastard.
“Mr. Hayes. I thought I was doing a good job, but he fired me. He didn’t even give me a proper reason. Some bullshit about hard decisions having to be made,” she sniffles.
My scalp prickles. He wouldn’t. He just…wouldn’t. He wouldn’t fire Simone just so he could have unrestricted access to me.
“Simone, don’t worry. Everything will work itself out,” I reassure her. After I’m through with Ben, he will definitely be taking her back.
“Sullivan, you’re not hearing me. I was fired.”
“Don’t worry honey. Think of today as a personal day off. It will all be better in the morning. I’ll call you later. I’ve got an important meeting to go to.” I hang up the phone.
Sifting in the draw, I search for something to wear.
“Perfect.” I decide on sexy black jeans, a tight black blazer, and red lace cami with red peep toe heels. I spend half an hour curling my hair. I think I need to have a haircut soon.
Downstairs, I hail a cab and I head off toward Ben’s company. How dare he fire my friend just to get into bed with me? I am boiling. I am going to give him a piece of my mind; but knowing I am going to be seeing him again makes my stomach flutter in excitement.
Tainted Love (Book 1) Page 6