His For More Than One Night

by Fiona Murphy

  The waitress comes up to the table, and he stops with a smile as I blush at his words. He didn’t lower his voice, and his graphic words are clear to the waitress, who eyes us knowingly.

  “Can I get you anything now while you look over the menu, sir?”

  “Anything you want, Kate. Wine?”

  “Just a sparkling water is fine. I’m not one for wine.”

  “I’ll have the same, then.” The waitress nods and moves away. “No wine ever?” He’s studying my hand he hasn’t let go of.

  “Not much for wine, really. I only drink when I go out for, you know.” My eyes don’t go up and stay on my hand in his grip.

  “Why?” The question is almost a whisper.

  “He drank. He smelled of it all the time.”

  “You drink for the courage or because you think it’s a part of what happens?”

  “Courage.”

  “Hmm, did I mention you look beautiful? I’m pretty sure I didn’t get a damn thing done today.”

  “You know what I do, but you never mentioned what you do.”

  “That’s because it’s very boring. Corporate paper pusher in retail. I don’t want you falling asleep when I’m talking. Now that you got your promotion and are making more, are you considering moving?”

  The waitress is back, and we place our order.

  “I haven’t thought much about it. Everything happened so quickly. It seemed too good to be true. I wouldn’t even give it a thought until I was handed the paperwork and it was in print. My building isn’t the greatest, but Uptown is changing. It’s getting better.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of you being in something better than a studio.”

  “For me the studio works. I like it being cozy. Just enough room for a bed and nice chair.” His look is searching, and he tightens his grip on my hand. “Okay, for me it’s like the first foster home I settled in. At first the emergency home was full and there was chaos. When they moved me, it was a home with just girls, and I got my own room. It felt safe. I was there for a while until the whole pregnancy thing, then I was moved to a group home and I hated it.

  When I aged out of the system, it was roommates, and I hated it. For me, whatever it took, I wanted my own space. I remember thinking the studio was a first step, and eventually I would go up in space. After a while I liked it, and I don’t really have any desire to change it.”

  “Have you seen a therapist since you aged out of the system?”

  Shrugging, I shake my head. “No.” I guess my look of disdain is clear at the mention of a therapist.

  “There’s nothing wrong with seeing a therapist. What you went through can take years to resolve. If you broke your leg, you wouldn’t wrap it up and try and walk on it. You set it, put a cast on it, and give it time to heal. You are stronger than you think you are, and seeing a therapist doesn’t make you weak.”

  Our food arrives, and he lets go of my hand with a lingering squeeze. As we eat, he mentions an exhibit at the Art Institute, asking if it sounds like something I want to see, and I laugh.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, ignore me,” Realizing how rude it sounded and knowing he didn’t deserve it.

  “Ignore you? Not going to happen, sweetheart. You thought it, tell me.”

  “It sounds mean, and I’m sorry. I was just thinking, now I get to do the rich people’s version of dating.”

  “And how is it different than the poor person’s version of dating?” He doesn’t seem offended.

  “Poor people it’s the simple, free stuff of only going to the Art Institute on free nights, or matinee shows. Rich people it’s the symphony, exhibits when you want, and dinner at the nicest places.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughs, and it’s a rich, throaty laugh, and the vibration runs up my spine. “You left out the opera and sailing.”

  His laughter tells me everything is okay, and I can relax. “Do you have a boat?”

  “No, but I’ll get one if you want.” Sincerity ringing clear.

  “I’ve never been on one and I’m okay with that. Do you like the opera?”

  “Boats can be fun but also a pain. I enjoy the opera. The look on your face makes it clear you don’t believe me.”

  “It seems odd to be able to enjoy something if you can’t understand the language. Foreign movies are fine, they have subtitles, there aren’t any for an opera.”

  “If you don’t like it we’ll never go again, try it with me once and I think you’ll like it. Considering how much you love to read, the opera is just a different way of telling a story. While you don’t understand the language, the actors can make it clear what’s happening.”

  “I don’t really have the clothes to not embarrass you for a night at the opera.” I shrug. It doesn’t really sound appealing.

  “Doesn’t Ramsey’s have a good discount for you? You’re a smart shopper. Your clothes are good designers, and they have style and elegance. You have a good eye, and mix and match your pieces very well.”

  “Thank you. It took a long time to figure it out. For many years I wasted money on outlandish outfits. Then my bank balance made it clear it had to end. For a while, I stopped buying anything at all. There was a sales assistant there, Maria, she was so sweet, and she tutored me. She was nice and wasn’t belittling at all. I miss her.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Her husband got a great job in Houston. We keep in contact from time to time. She was a huge help with the paperwork side, and there have been times I went to her for help. Now she vents about how much she hates Houston and how much she misses her family and Chicago. I remember thinking about no snow or freezing temperatures when she talked about it at first. And now I know there’s always a price to pay for something you think is good.”

  “Sometimes, and sometimes the price is worth it.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Well, there are huge downsides to living in Chicago. Twenty-degree-below wind chills and snow, and sometimes ice. There are months when you forget what the sun looks like. So why are you still here if the idea of not going through freezing temperatures appealed to you?”

  Thinking about it, I remember how I’ve toyed with the idea of moving once or twice throughout the years, but never seriously. “Because even with all of that, there are wonderful things about this city that make it all worth it.”

  “Sometimes it’s worth it?”

  “Yes, sometimes it’s worth it.” I smile as I think about it.

  Chapter Seven

  Trey is massaging my feet, and I sigh with pleasure. “Thank you so much. I swear, I’m starting to hate Edward Ramsey. Why the fuck won’t he just come and look and get it over with?”

  “Hate is a strong word.”

  “High heels every work day for the last three weeks, yes, I think I’m willing to go with the word hate. I’m wondering if he’d mad at me because I turned down the store offer in Barrington Hills. Which is a good thing, because now they aren’t going to open. It didn’t make sense to open another store so close to the one downtown. Dallas, maybe. Dallas or Houston are two areas screaming for Ramsey’s, and they’ll work there.”

  “I doubt it. Business is business. Did someone tell you that he was going to go to the store? You should also mention it as a suggestion. It sounds like a good one.”

  “Maybe, no, no one said he was going to the store, but it’s expected. He comes and pats us all on the head, says keep up the good work then we don’t see him until the holiday party. I just don’t understand why he hasn’t come yet.”

  “Kate, I know we had plans for a movie, but today was a busy day. Can we stay in instead?”

  “Sure, we don’t have to go out. We go out a lot, and it’s nice, but staying in is fine too. For the record, we don’t have to go out a much as we do.”

  The last two weeks have been an easy and comfortable blur. Dinner or lunch was as often out as we did delivery, because I don’t cook. There were a few visits out to mov
ies and the theatre. Trey seemed more concerned about going out and filling the hours, but I just as often wanted to stay home in bed with him. When he apologized for nearly attacking me when he came over one night and all hopes of making the play we were supposed to see were gone, I laughed. When I asked why it was a big deal when I was so much happier in bed with him, he very seriously said he wanted to make sure I knew he appreciated me as much outside of bed as in it. Those words warmed me up inside, and I wasn’t able to hold back a smile. Seeing the smile, Trey rolled me under him and fucked me savagely, to my utter delight.

  “I’ll remember that. Come here. I want to fill you up tonight.”

  His words make me wet. There’s a light in his eyes that makes me melt into his arms.

  “Kate, will you consider therapy?”

  It’s the last thing I expect him to say. I flinch back from him. It feels like he’s saying I’m not good enough as I am.

  “Don’t do that, baby. Don’t look like that. As good as this feels, it can be better. You only just stopped begging me to turn off the lights at night. You know how good it feels when you’re riding me, but you don’t do it unless I put you there. I want it to be just you and me, not the ghosts that haunt you when we are together.

  No shame, no guilt, you deserve to enjoy your orgasm and pleasure. You’ve come far, you have, and you should be proud of yourself.”

  A hand goes into my hair and draws my eyes back to his. “An orgasm always feels good, it’s natural. No matter who is pressing the buttons or why, that’s nature working. For you to want an orgasm is natural it’s a powerful high, and there isn’t a damn thing wrong with wanting to feel that good again and again.

  When that bastard forced himself on you and made you come, it wasn’t because you wanted it, it was because he hit the right buttons. Do you understand that, baby? Do you really understand?”

  My face is burning, and I’m trying not to cry, yet his beautiful eyes are swimming in front of me. He knows the biggest fear and shame of it all. How can he know?

  The knowledge slams into me. “Your wife?”

  Nodding, he wipes my tears away. “Yes, from the time she was eight until she was sixteen. For her it was her uncle, and the bastard got off way too easily. When she threatened him with telling her parents, he overdosed and died. She locked herself up and threw away the key. She was trapped in a hell she didn’t create.”

  “You resented her?” I remember him saying it the first time he talked about her.

  Shaking his head, his hand tightens in my hair. “Not what she went through. Never that. I resented how she chose not to unlock herself from the past. She would say it hurt too much, but she was hurting herself by not dealing with it, just in a different way.

  “He took so much away from her without her permission, there’s no denying that. It wasn’t what she went through I resented. It was how she let it rule her life and mine. I begged her to see a therapist, and she promised she would, but she wouldn’t. Would it have made everything better? No, I’m not saying that, but I resented she wouldn’t even try.”

  “What if seeing a therapist hadn’t helped?”

  “I would have liked her to try more than one therapist. Not all therapists and the work they do are the same. If it didn’t help then it didn’t help, and she could say she tried. I’m not even saying there is any one thing that will help, there’s no silver bullet, no schedule or timetable that can be checked off. I understood that but Susan wouldn’t even try and because of that she held us both locked up in the pain of her past.

  You aren’t doing that, and I’m so grateful for that. Still, it feels like I’m competing for your whole attention. I know there are times I’ve been too rough with you, and I hate it, but it often feels like it’s the only time you aren’t anywhere but under me.”

  I open my mouth to reassure him how much I like it when he’s rough, then realize it’s not the point. A few times I wondered about his wife, what she had looked like and why he resented her. Now the worry lines that are a network on his forehead are explained. He tried, he was patient and supportive, and she refused him until the patience died. I’ve thought about seeing a therapist again, more than once, but always backed off. The idea of talking about it again, opening the door again, held no appeal. But Trey’s words from our first lunch together come back to me. If I was willing to go through a Chicago winter to enjoy a Chicago spring, why couldn’t I go through the door again to see if I could come out of it without any of the tortured dreams and fears?

  Sagging against his chest, feeling the wall of muscle and sinew tremble beneath my fingers, I’m once again in awe at how and why he wants me. How can I make someone as beautiful as him gasp with a touch and smile with pleasure when he sees me? It isn’t just his looks or his money that make me question my worth. He’s so damn patient and kind to not just me but anyone he encounters. He doesn’t act like the rich and privileged assholes I have encountered.

  Closing my eyes, I think over his accusations, and know he’s not wrong or exaggerating. That’s something that surprises me, that the memories taunt me in the quiet moments when Trey isn’t demanding and urgent. It’s like there are ghosts in the room watching me, judging me for enjoying all the pleasure Trey gives me.

  Nodding, I know I want it to be just us too.

  “Thank you, baby. I know it’s scary. I’ll be here for you in whatever way you need me. I told you from the beginning, just ask and I’ll give it to you.”

  Tension flows out of him, and he hugs me tighter to him. “I’m waiting for you to fill me up like you promised,” I whisper against his neck, and feel his cock harden instantly under me.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  ***

  I come awake to his kiss on my cheek. Without thinking, I put my hand up to stop him moving away. He deepens the kiss, and even though every part of my body aches from his greedy attention that lasted until the early hours of this morning, were he to get back into bed, I would welcome it.

  “Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he whispers against my ear, and I nod. He’s right. I’m scheduled to close tonight.

  ***

  I’m in the office running through the numbers on what is supposed to be my lunch break when Jenny knocks on the door. Calling to her to come in. Her eyes are wide, and she’s smiling. I’m bemused. Jenny isn’t one to get excited about much.

  “Kate, Mr. Ramsey is here to meet with you.”

  Then I see him behind her, his eyes intent on me.

  “Ms. Frazier, it’s nice to finally meet with you.”

  Shock has me still, and I can only look at his hand. Jenny murmurs something and disappears.

  “How could you keep this from me? Why?” My lips feel numb, and I back away, refusing to allow him to touch me.

  “Kate, don’t. Don’t make this something it’s not. It’s not like that.”

  “Then what the fuck is it like, Trey?” My emphasis on his name has him sighing.

  “Edward the third. I’ve been Trey since I was five years old. Kate, I was trying to give us some time. There’s not a damn thing wrong with our relationship.”

  “Are you serious right now? I’m fucking my boss.”

  “Your promotion was in place before I ever laid eyes on you. Alan had everything to do with that, and you know it. My signature went on paperwork drawn up before we met. You deserve your job, and no one who has ever worked with you would think otherwise. Do not make roadblocks where there are none. Do not do this to us, please.”

  My mind is spinning. I’m not sure what to think until he says the word us. The way he says it makes my stomach spin almost as badly as my mind. “I want you to leave, now.” I can’t think. It hurts to look at him. He reaches for me, I back up until I hit the wall. “Please just leave now.” I can hear my voice is too loud and high, and I don’t care.

  “All right, I’ll leave. We’ll talk later.” His voice is firm, all I care about is he’s leaving.

  The door closes
with a click, and it frees me to fumble to my desk. I’m still trying to sort through my chaotic thoughts when Jenny comes back into the office without knocking. “What the hell was that? Only you could stare at a yummy-looking piece of eye candy like he had the plague.”

  Shaking my head, I can’t meet her eyes. “It’s nothing. Don’t leave Cara on the floor alone.” My voice is sharper than I intend, and she flinches at my tone. With a flounce, she’s gone.

  When the door bangs shut, my head goes into my hands. What the hell am I supposed to do? It seems so damn wrong from the outside looking in. Working for him and sleeping with the boss is something a whore does, willing to sell her body to gain from it. Does it matter that, as he kept saying, he became a lover before he technically became my boss? I clench my eyes. It feels like it’s just an excuse. Didn’t he already known that? Was that why he had kept it hidden, because it was wrong?

  Cara knocks timidly and calls out that a long-time customer is asking for me. It takes a moment of deep breathing for me to answer I’ll be out in a minute. Forcing myself to stand, I push back the chaos. I’ll have to figure it out later. For now I need to get back to work.

  ***

  As I’m locking the door and waiting for Cara to get into her boyfriend’s car, my phone begins to ring. I know who it is, and I don’t bother to look down. I send it to voicemail. I’m not ready, not yet. Hailing a cab, I give my address, and my phone starts ringing again. I know I won’t have peace until I respond. Words won’t come as I look at the keys on my phone. Finally, I tap only two words: Not now.

  My phone is silent. No response. Knowing Trey, I know he’ll give me time, but it won’t be for long.

  ***

  I’m not wrong. He’s quiet for two days and then my phone starts ringing again. I’ve made up my mind, and slip my phone under the pillow and let it ring and ring. Curling up into a ball on my bed, the pain is blinding, and it’s hard to breathe. That’s what surprises me the most—pain like I didn’t believe I could ever feel again. My eyes close, and I wonder if I’m making a mistake. Doesn’t pain tell you when something is wrong?