Dirty Rich Obsession

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Understanding washes over me. “It looks like I was plotting behind your back because I was here with Elijah when you just said you wouldn’t do the deal.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I was not plotting against you, Reid. Have you listened to your messages?”

  “I’ve been with our stockholder.”

  “And of course, you assumed the worst of me. Your phone transcribed my messages. Read them now.”

  “I’ll read them when we’re out of here.”

  “Of course you will. What do you want to do?”

  “We’re going to walk out there and say goodbye to both of them and then leave together.” He leans in near my ear. “And then we’re going to talk.”

  My anger flares hot again. “Oh yes,” I assure him. “We’re definitely going to talk.”

  “You will tell them both—”

  “I know what to say. You made that clear last night.”

  “And yet, you’re here,” he reminds me.

  “Listen to your messages, asshole.” I turn for the door and he catches me from behind, his big body pressed close to mine, his lips at my ear. My body is now as hot as my anger, and he warns, “Do not let them see your anger.”

  “I’ll save it for you.”

  “Good,” he says. “If you can get past mine.” He releases me, and I start walking.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Carrie

  Reid and I clear the hallway and he steps to my side, his hand catching my elbow, heat radiating up my arm with the touch. “This way,” he orders, the words low, but hard.

  We round the bar and bring Nicholas Miller into view, a man I’ve met briefly through my father. He stands to greet us, his thick hair gray, his suit expensive, and his attention on me. “So good to see you, Carrie,” he greets, offering me his hand.

  “Good to see you too,” I say. “And to deliver an update. As I’m sure you noticed, I was meeting with Elijah Woodson, doing my due diligence as Reid requested.”

  “Yes,” he says, glancing at Reid. “Due diligence.” He looks at me again. “How did that go?”

  “As Reid warned. Not well. He’s luring us in with money, but he has his eyes on a high-risk pet project that I suspect our competitors already passed on. Frankly, I doubt we would see any money but that which he’s allocated for the high-risk project.”

  “This is disappointing,” he says. “I met with Elijah and he talked about a couple of high-rise Asia-based projects.”

  “High-rise Asia-based projects are high-risk,” I say. “Believe me. You have to have every duck lined up, and not a feather missing, to ensure you don’t lose your ass to regulations, laws, and currency issues.”

  “And yet Elijah is willing to take the risk.”

  “Elijah only loses his money,” I reply. “We lose the money of those we convince to jump on board and invest, as well as our own money, and that of the stockholders. In the end, a failure would leave Elijah looking like a victim of our mishandling.”

  “And since I have bad blood with Elijah,” Reid interjects, “he could spin his loss as some sort of personal punch from me, which damages my company and family as well. Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past him to pull out at the last minute and cause a default of the project that he’d pin on me.”

  Nicholas arches a brow. “He hates you that much?”

  “He does.”

  “Even if there wasn’t something personal involved,” I add. “I’d never recommend we take this kind of risk while recovering from two bad hits. Not unless we’re trying to sink the ship. That’s my two cents, but I’ll leave you two to talk this out. I need to go finish up with Elijah.”

  “Will this be presented to the board?” he asks.

  “No,” Reid says. “An opportunity to go bankrupt will not be presented to the board.”

  I try to step away and Reid catches my arm. “I’ll go with you. Goodnight, Nicholas.”

  “Are you sure walking away from Elijah isn’t personal?” Nicholas asks.

  “Money is always personal,” Reid says. “I don’t plan to lose mine. If you’d like to pitch losing yours to the board, feel free to formally request a meeting. Goodnight,” he repeats and turns us away from the table we never even sat down at.

  “Why did he just ask if it’s personal?” I ask, softly. “You told him it was personal.”

  “Elijah told him. He met with him before I arrived and told him we have bad blood in a play to get me unseated.”

  “He really hates you.”

  “Yes. He does.”

  “And you thought I was a part of all of this,” I say. “So much for trust.”

  “We’re going to talk trust tonight.”

  I don’t have the opportunity to reply. We step to the edge of the table where Elijah waits on me. He stands and his focus is on Reid.

  “Reid,” he states, and it’s not a greeting but rather disdain on his tongue.

  “Revenge is not a game that you want to play with me or Carrie. Consider this a warning. Your only warning.” With that he snags my elbow again, turning me toward the door, my mind reeling. What went down between these two? We exit the restaurant and cross the lobby of the building, and I open my mouth to ask questions right as Reid softly warns, “Whatever you’re about to say. Save it for when we’re alone.”

  “I can wait,” I assure him, and when I dare to meet his eyes, he’s quick to reply.

  “Remember you said that. I sure as fuck will.”

  He opens the door to the building for me and I exit to the street. I rotate to face him and he snags my hand, leading me toward a black sedan that I assume is a hired car. The heat radiating off our palms and up my arm momentarily stalls my brain, but once I’m in the back of the car with him sliding in beside me, realization hits me.

  I face him while he addresses the driver. “Home,” he orders the man, and then looks at me. “This is not the place to talk.”

  “If you were in a hired car,” I demand, “why didn’t you take my calls?”

  “Your calls change nothing.”

  “Have you listened to my messages?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “You obviously don’t understand ‘not the place.’”

  I scoot closer to him, and grab his arm, leaning in to whisper. “I need you to listen to those messages.” I look up at him and say the word I’ve never said to this man. “Please.”

  “Whatever you said won’t change what you did.”

  “Then I might as well go home because we have nothing to talk about.” I scoot away from him and settle into the leather of the seat, aware now that we are already moving.

  “On the contrary,” Reid says softly. “We have much to talk about and much left unfinished between us.”

  I don’t reply. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I don’t know how I got into a place with this man that he can hurt me, but I did. And so we ride, side by side, tension radiating off of us. He grabs his phone and punches a button before pressing the cell to his ear. I don’t know if he’s listening to my messages. I tell myself I don’t care anymore. We are enemies. We always were or he wouldn’t assume my actions are those of an enemy. I sink deeper into my seat as well, the space between us feeling wide. He’s not touching me. He’s always touching me. I’m not sure what this says about where his head is right now. He finishes listening to the messages, whatever messages he’s listened to, and slides his phone into his jacket pocket.

  He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t look at me.

  And so, I continue to sit here, aware of him in every possible way, inside and out, in a way I have never been aware of another human being. I hate him. I want him. I’m furious with him. It’s a theme. I feel all these things every time we’re together. I try now though to set aside lust and anger and think about where his head might be right now. He was set up. From there, my thoughts chase every feeling he might be feeling and I come back to trust. He told me to trust him, but he wasn’t willing to do the sa
me of me.

  The car stops in front of a building that I now believe to be Reid’s apartment, where I’m not going with him. I open my door and he catches my wrist, following me out of the car. He pulls me to him and slams the car door shut. “Do not even think about running from me right now.”

  “I don’t run. I walk away when it feels appropriate and that’s about control. Mine. Not yours. I’m walking away. That’s what feels appropriate.”

  “You’re going upstairs to my apartment with me and if you think I won’t throw you over my damn shoulder and take you there, you’re wrong.”

  “Why?” I challenge. “So you can fuck me and your anger out of your system?”

  “Yes. That is exactly my plan. Now are you walking, or am I carrying you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Carrie

  “What’s it going to be, Carrie?” Reid demands, dragging me flush against his hard body.

  “I’ll go to your apartment with you, Reid, but don’t touch me until I say you can touch me. We’re going to talk first.”

  His lips quirk. “You talk. I’ll fuck you while you do it.” He takes my hand and starts walking.

  I fall into step with him because I really have no choice unless I want to make a scene and I do not. “The part where I said don’t touch me until I say you can touch me,” I say. “That still applies.”

  He folds our elbows and pulls me closer. “I’ve got a pair of handcuffs upstairs that says differently.”

  “You’re not cuffing me.”

  “Tell me that when I’m between your legs licking you the way we both know you like to be licked.”

  My God, why did that just make me wet? He’s crass and almost mean and yet everything about the man turns me on. He opens the door to his building and drags me inside with him like I’m his possession. Or like he just really needs to do what he suggested and fuck me out of his system. That he feels this need because I’m in his head shouldn’t please me, but it does. Almost as much as cuffing him and leaving him in that room.

  He drags me close again and sets us in motion, waving to the security guard as we head toward the elevators. Some part of me knows this night will change us, and I don’t know if that is good or bad. Just that it will, but I can’t stop it. It’s in motion. It’s already happening. Maybe it happened back there with Elijah. Whatever the case, we’ve been headed here from the moment we met. Reid punches the elevator button and the doors open. Butterflies attack my stomach and in a quick maneuver, Reid has me against the wall of the elevator car, his powerful thighs caging mine, even as he punches in a code on the panel, followed by his floor number.

  The doors seal us inside and his hands come down on my waist as he stares down at me, just stares. “Did you listen to the messages?”

  “Yes.”

  I study him for several beats. “It changes nothing,” I say, reading it in his face.

  “That’s right. I was, and am, going to fuck you ten ways to Sunday in my apartment.”

  “Because that’s what you do. Fuck your enemies?”

  The elevator dings and halts, and he has my hand again, leading me out of the car. I don’t even know what floor we’re on. I just know that I’m about to be in this man’s private space, and I’m curious about what it tells me about Reid, about the man beneath the stone.

  He pulls me between him and the door, his big body hot and hard behind me. He unlocks the door, opening it and presenting me with the entry. I cross the threshold, a light automatically dimming and before I can do more than walk a step or two, he’s behind me, turning me to face him, pressing me against the door. “Because,” he says, his legs caging mine once more, his hands on the wall by my head, “getting back to your question in the elevator, I can’t stop thinking about fucking you and that’s a distraction neither of us can afford. It’s s distraction that’s in my head when it can’t be in my head. You’re in my fucking head.”

  He says it like he’s angry. Like it’s my fault. He’s blaming me for whatever sins he’s decided I created. “You’re consuming my whole damn world,” I all but growl at him. “Everything I am. No one can claim that, but you. And I didn’t even invite you to do it.”

  “And so you tried to take control yourself tonight.”

  “No, damn it. I called you. I thought I could find out the information you needed to know. That we needed to know. And Elijah implied he knew what everyone seems to know about my father but me.”

  “You have plenty of reasons to betray me. Reasons I can’t ignore.”

  “I also have reasons not to,” I remind him.

  “What reasons, Carrie?”

  I’m in over my head, I think. I need you, I think, but I don’t say those words. They make me weak. I can’t be weak. Emotions I don’t want to feel well up in my chest. Emotions that are more personal than professional. “Because you saved me. And because…”

  “Because what?” he presses.

  “I really don’t want to be your enemy, Reid. Can we just not be enemies?”

  He looks skyward, seeming to struggle with what comes next, or maybe something he knows that I don’t know, and there is something before he fixes me in a turbulent stare. “I cannot do this with you. I fuck. I move on. That is what I do.”

  “Did I ask you to do anything else? Did I? No. No, I did not. I don’t want a relationship and I don’t know where you get off acting like I do. I’m not that girl. So fuck me or let me off this damn door and out of here.” I press on the hard wall of his chest, and his heart thunders under my palm.

  He’s stone, he’s always stone. I’m suffocating in this man. In how he looks. How he smells. How much I want him. How much I keep hating him and not hating him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he promises. “Not until we fuck this out of our systems, so don’t plan on sleeping.” He rotates me, forcing me to move, and now I’m in front of him, facing the door and he’s dragging my jacket off my shoulders. It’s barely off and he’s pressing me to the door again, forcing me to catch myself with my hands, working my skirt down my hips. I yelp as he yanks the panties. “You could have at least shown me your apartment before you destroyed my panties.”

  He turns me to face him, me against the door. One of his hands is at my hip and the other next to my head. “You want to see my apartment?”

  “This doorway sex isn’t any different than office sex.” A sharp pang in my chest has me cutting my stare before I look at him again. “Never mind. Just fuck me here. We don’t need different.”

  “We do need different and more,” he says. “A hell of a lot more.” And suddenly he’s throwing me over his shoulder and walking down the hallway, my bare bum under his palm.

  “Reid!” I yelp. “The blood is running to my head.”

  “You’ll survive,” he assures me and one of my shoes falls off.

  “That was my shoe,” I say, and the other one falls, too.

  “I promise not to wear it,” he says, and I can see nothing but his legs before he lays me down on a soft gray couch. “Take off your blouse and bra or I’ll rip them, too.” He kisses me, a deep slide of tongue over too soon. “Now,” he adds, standing up.

  I love this blouse and I quickly sit up, pull it over my head, and toss it and my bra, with a fleeting awareness of high ceilings and walls of windows. Reid shrugs out of his jacket, his gaze raking over my naked body, before he tosses it away. “My phone was in my jacket in that hotel room where you left me,” he comments. “My jacket was out of reach.” He reaches for his tie.

  I can’t help it. I laugh, pressing my hands to the cushions. “What did you do?”

  He leaves his tie dangling and unbuttons his shirt, toeing off his shoes, because as I know well, he’s quite the multitasker when it come to fucking. “I picked up the whole damn couch.”

  “How very resourceful of you. Who did you call for help?”

  “Royce.”

  “Of course. A man paid to keep your secrets.”

  He removes his shirt,
and my God, the man is really the definition of asshole perfection, complete with rippling abs and broad shoulders, but I don’t get the full package just yet. With his pants still on, he lowers me to the couch and presses me against the cushion, his big wonderful body on top of mine. His lips linger over my lips and the air thickens around us in that combustible way I’ve only known with Reid. We’re fucking, I know we’re fucking and it’s all I want, but there’s something between me and this man, something that is more real than anything I’ve ever felt. “I can’t believe you told me about the jacket.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you know all the reasons I have to punish you tonight.”

  There’s something in the way he says those words, something that cuts from deep inside him and my hand goes to his jaw. “I didn’t betray you,” I whisper. “I swear to you, Reid.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I heard it in your voice in the message. I know, and it would be so much easier if I didn’t.”

  “What would be easier?”

  “Everything.” He gives me no chance to ask what he means. His mouth closes down on mine, and in the depth of that kiss is the everything he’s just declared. Everything he wants. Everything that I want. Everything that he intends to take from me tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Carrie

  Reid’s kiss devours me. He devours me. The taste of him. The heavy perfection of his weight on top of me. His hands traveling over my body, cupping my breasts. His lips at my ear as he whispers, “We’ll eventually make it to the bed,” and those words punch me in the chest.

  His bed.

  Me in it.

  It shouldn’t feel like a big deal. We’re fucking. He’s trying to fuck me out of his system, and who knows how many women have been here, in his bed, fucked and forgotten. That idea bothers me when getting fucked on his desk didn’t. I don’t want a relationship, I don’t expect a relationship. I don’t—

  His mouth closes down on mine again, driving away all thoughts, his fingers tugging at my nipples, and not gently. I moan into his mouth and arch into the touch, wanting more, but he denies me. He tears his mouth from mine and for a moment, he just lingers there, lips just above mine, and he breathes with me. “We’ll make it to the bedroom,” he repeats, “but not until we get past that punishment I promised you.”