The Pursuit of Passion (Taylor & Adam)

by Liv Bennett

  CHAPTER 6 - ADAM

  Why didn’t women come with a how-to manual? It doesn’t have to include some complicated information like how to manipulate them and make them do whatever your heart—or cock—desires. But some simple basics, like how to talk to them, how to understand their cues, how to flirt with them, and most importantly how to please them without screwing it up.

  Even so, Taylor would need a special edition just for her.

  She won’t see me. She won’t take my calls. She barely acknowledges my existence during the weekly meetings. And this happens just when I start thinking things were looking up between us. What do I have to do to make her see that she’ll be better off with me than spending a life of solitude?

  I don’t know how much longer I can continue this ever-challenging pursuit of her. I’m beginning to get tired of following her like a cat after a mouse.

  The night Adriana invited Pat over for dinner Pat asked me, “Are you happier now than when you were with me?”

  She had a point. She’s always had a point. She is one of the rare women who don’t need a how-to manual. She is direct in her thoughts and wishes, and that was one of the thousands of things I loved about her.

  Yet, I couldn’t answer her question without the possibility of breaking her heart. I was happy, maybe the happiest in my life when I was with Pat. This is no overstatement or exaggeration. She loved sex and was open to trying different things. She cooked delicious food, maybe as well as Adriana. She was humble, tender, and caring without compromising her directness and rationality. She was a half man, half woman in a hell-of-a-sexy woman’s body. The perfect mixture. We had plans for the future. We wanted a big house in the city and another by the beach and lots of kids to fill them with. I would teach them basketball, and she would teach them music.

  However, everything changed when Taylor entered the equation, disrupting plans for my future with Pat. Since then, I’ve become the miserable-and-lost me that I am today, in spite of having once been in a happy relationship with Pat.

  And, after the day at the LAPD station, I’m in deeper shit than I’ve ever been. After seeing Taylor writhing with an orgasm, listening to her stifled whimpers, feeling my fingers deep inside her wet core, my suffering has evolved to an unbearable level.

  She begged me to make her reach orgasm; I felt the spasm of her inner muscles around my fingers. All crystal clear signs of pleasure. Pure and real pleasure. Yet, she’s rejecting me as if I burned her house, or killed her cat.

  At times, I swear I’ll stop working for Taylor and go back to where I left off with Pat. She is willing to take me back. She told me so during the dinner with Adriana, with the promise of giving me the time of my life. If she wasn’t such a good-hearted and generous person and I was an asshole, I’d take her up on the offer and let her spoil me rotten. But, she deserves a man who truly loves her and puts her above everything. Not someone like me who will show up today and leave tomorrow because he’s love struck by another woman.

  A month has passed since my intimate moment with Taylor, and to this date she hasn’t said a word about it. I have no choice but to go along with her unspoken wishes.

  I leave my office windows and door open to help with the air circulation and sit back in my chair to continue with the spreadsheet I’ve been working on since the morning. Murmurs in the hall keep me from concentrating, so I get up with the intent of asking the people to keep it quieter.

  Strange, Taylor hasn’t warned them already. She squarely objects to the notion of losing precious work time for unproductive activities, like simply talking or surfing the Internet. Well, she hasn’t objected this time because she is the one chatting. With Valerie.

  “You should come, too,” I hear Valerie say. “His friend is very hot. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not in the mood,” Taylor replies.

  “You’re never in the mood—” Valerie speaks my mind. “Come for a short time, then. If you don’t like him you can just come up with an excuse and leave.”

  I don’t want to hear Taylor’s answer, most likely a positive one, so I shut the door loudly enough for anyone in the hall to hear. I want to punch the wall. She’ll agree on meeting a stranger, but she won’t come anywhere near me. How fucking unfair is that?

  There’s no point in trying to work now. I’ll just skim through the numbers without really studying them, so I’d rather call it a day and get prepared for the dinner. Jerry, my boss from the marketing company I work for, invited me to a dinner party at his summer house in Malibu. To save time, I brought a fresh shirt and pants to the office. I shrug out of my work shirt and place it on the couch. Examining the scar on my chest has become an unbreakable daily habit, so I approach the mirror by the door and examine my chest while putting on the clean shirt.

  I leave the buttons undone and run my fingers over the scar. It’s still a little sore and sensitive, even to my soft touch. I’ve already made an appointment with a dermatologist to get the scar removed with a laser. I don’t want the constant reminder of having come close to death, although I receive compliments from women at the gym every now and then about how sexy it looks on my chest. Sexy, my ass. I was in pain, terrified, and helpless at the shooting. Nothing sexy about that.

  A knock on the door startles me, and I take a step back. “Yes.”

  Taylor opens the door but doesn’t enter. “Are you busy?”

  I shake my head and motion her inside. I don’t bother with buttoning my shirt and sit down on the edge of my desk while surveying her from head to toe. Her hair is lying loosely on her shoulders, a little longer than she usually keeps it since Jack’s death. Jack loved her waist-length hair. So did I. And right after his death, her very first action was to shave off all her hair. Even bald she looked good. Maybe she will grow it back to her waist again. Her long hair was her signature, besides her big breasts, and round ass, and plump lips, and daring eyes. Well, every part of her is special.

  Her bra is vaguely visible under her crisply pressed white shirt, and from the outline of her nipples under the shirt, it’s clear that she’s sporting an unpadded bra. Maybe a lace one? No, I shouldn’t go there. Too distracting. Maybe I should file a complaint about the sensual clothing she’s wearing at work. Valerie would be delighted to act upon it.

  I glance down at her tightly fitting grey skirt and wonder how she can walk in that. Well, at least she’s wearing flat shoes. She’s the perfect height for me. Not too short to make me feel like I have one of my sisters around, and not so tall that I can’t still feel protective over her. Yeah, I’m macho like that. One of the handful of downsides of being me.

  I’m not the only one studying the other, though. Her eyes are sweeping over my pecs down to my abs. She looks hesitant as she moves toward me. I want to joke and say “I won’t bite,” but I may not be able to keep to that promise, if she gets too close to me.

  She motions toward my shirt with her eyes. “You can turn on the AC if it’s too hot in here.”

  “That’s not it.” I shake my head, unable to suppress a smile. “I was just changing into a fresh shirt for a party in Malibu.” She raises an eyebrow. Her expression is clouded with curiosity and even a little jealousy. When she doesn’t reveal any of her thoughts, I ask, “So, what brings you here?” After a long time of practically ignoring my existence?

  “I need you for a meeting on Monday afternoon.” She’s brisk and to the point. She won’t spend any second longer than necessary with me.

  But, I want to keep her longer. “I don’t work for you on Mondays.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Like I don’t know it.”

  I flash a knowing smile. “Well?”

  “Can you leave your other work earlier and meet me at four at the Four Seasons?”

  I lift my hand to scratch my forehead and look away as if I’m thinking about it. Of course I can leave earlier. No problem there, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I’ll be meeting with an important client for lu
nch. I don’t know if I can make it.”

  “Oh, please. It’s important that you come with me.”

  I remember the last time she said “Please” to me when she desperately needed me to finish her off. Shit. It’s too hard being around. And, it’s making me hard, too. “What is it about?” Change of the subject is always good to keep my cock in check.

  “Well, it’s sort of a secret.”

  I don’t respond, but just stare at her to prompt her to reveal to me the secret of hers.

  She exhales a long breath and sits on the chair close to me. Her skirt inches up as she crosses her legs, revealing her shapely knees. “Have you heard of the Berenson Country Club?” I nod my head. “Well, it changed owners recently due to financial problems, and the new owner wants to turn it into a housing development. I managed to land an appointment with him to get him to consider us handling the construction. I need you to come with me to—”

  “Impress him.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that and you know more about construction than I do. Probably, he’s heard of your name, too.”

  “How large is the land?”

  She clasps her hands over her lap. “A little over one hundred acres.”

  “We haven’t taken any project that size. Are you sure you’re up to the challenge?”

  “I want to take the company to the next level. If it means I’ll have to work harder, find more subcontractors, and hire more people, I’ll do it. And of course, I’ll need your help, too. The new owner sent me some of the designs he’s considering for the townhouses and apartment buildings. I’ll send them to you so you can check them out and tell me what you think.”

  Nodding, I shift at my place. I notice her eyes running down to my chest and immediately back up to my eyes. “Have you talked about it with the board?” I ask.

  “No. It’s not necessary at this stage. And, you know, I don’t really need consult them about anything—” She pauses and looks down at her hands. “As long as I know your opinion on it.”

  My lips curl up into a smile with pride, but I purse them to hide it. She doesn’t need to know how I love the way she values my opinion over everyone else’s when it comes to work. Why can’t she do it in personal matters, too?

  “So. Are you coming?” She lifts her head and shoots me the same ‘Please, let me come’ look she did. She claims I’m playing with her, when in reality I’m just a pitiable toy in her hands.

  An idea pops up. “It’ll be complicated for me. I’ll have to arrange a new meeting with my client, and he may take it in a negative way. He’s coming from Las Vegas. Which will include changes in plane tickets and hotel reservations, too.”

  “Oh.” She bites her lips as always she does when she is disappointed.

  “But, I can—” I stop to watch her face light up “—make it by four-thirty, if you do something for me.”

  “Anything,” she says. “Well, not anything, of course. Depends on what you want.”

  I smirk at her wordiness. “Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night.”

  She shakes her head slightly as if trying to say ‘I should have known this was coming,’ while staring at me.

  “Please, it’s just a dinner. I’ll be good. I won’t do anything that you don’t want. I promise I will ask clearly and well in advance if I intend to do something.”

  She springs to her feet and stands right in front of me, her pale face so close to mine I can feel her warm breath on my skin. “How about you don’t intend to do anything, and we just have dinner?” Out of the blue, she raises her hand and touches the middle of my bare chest with the tip of her forefinger.

  I haven’t seen it coming and I have no idea why she touches me, when all she wants me to do is to stay away from her. My heartbeat races as if I’m on a treadmill. I watch her face with the utmost curiosity and feel her finger tips trail along my bare skin. A sweet strawberry scent spreads from her hair and fills my lungs. Her lips part slightly, and I see her tongue brushing her teeth. I might need a cardiac massage if she keeps on teasing me like this.

  She pushes away the shirt far enough to reveal my scar. “The bandage is gone.” She gazes at the scar, her fingers tickling my skin.

  Why don’t you run your hand all over my chest, baby? It takes all my energy to not grab her waist and haul her over my desk. It’d turn this boring day into a memorable one. “Yes, it is.”

  Gently, she runs a circle around scar; her eyes reach up and lock on mine. “Does it hurt?”

  I swallow hard. “No.”

  “Good.” With that, she jerks away and strides toward the door. “Pick me up at seven,” she says before she stalks out of my office.

  ***

  I pull my BMW in behind a green sedan in front of the apartment building where Taylor lives. When I spot her walking down the stairs, I climb out and open the door for her. She’s wearing a black, fitted pant suit, despite her infamous preference for skirts. I guess that’s her way of protecting her holy grail from me. As the saying goes, once bitten, twice shy. A transparent tan blouse is gleaming under her silk blazer and I wonder whether it’s transparent all around.

  Behave Adam, or she’ll run away for good!

  She steps down the last of the stairs with ease, in spite of the mountain-high heels she’s wearing, and smiles at me once she reaches by my side.

  “You look beautiful,” I say.

  She examines me from head to toe without even trying to hide it. “So do you.” She grins, and climbs inside the car and buckles up. “Where are you taking me?”

  Hurrying back inside the car, I turn the key in the ignition and gun the engine. I’ll give her an unforgettable dinner. “Yoshida.”

  She shoots me a sharp glare. “No way.”

  “Don’t you like Japanese food?”

  “Yes, but not when it costs a thousand dollars. Look, I know you have this impossible mission of trying to get in my pants, but throwing away your hard-earned money isn’t the way to go.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then, what is?”

  She shakes her head with a long sigh and stares out of the windshield. She doesn’t know the answer either.

  “Have you ever eaten there?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “You’ll see it’s worth every penny.”

  “I doubt it.”

  I drive over Wilshire and, in less than forty minutes, I’m maneuvering my car into the restaurant’s parking lot in Santa Monica. I kill the engine and pull the key from the ignition.

  “I am not dining here, unless you let me pay half of the bill,” Taylor says when I make a move to open my door.

  “It’s a date, and it’s on me, or you can forget about the Monday meeting.” I open the door, certain that she won’t be able to say no.

  “I didn’t take you up on the dinner date, because of the Monday meeting.”

  If it wasn’t for the flicker of smile across her lips, I’d slam closed the door, haul her over my shoulder, and head to the restaurant.

  Intrigued, I pull the door back but not fully close it. “What convinced you, then?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s too embarrassing.” She blushes beet red instantly, shooting my curiosity to the highest.

  “Is it… about that day in front of the LAPD?” She told me she never wanted to see me again, but her body had said something totally different.

  “No,” she replies curtly.

  “Is it because I saved your life?”

  “Partially related, but that’s not the reason.”

  “Is it the scar?” The girls at the gym might have a point about the sexy, after all.

  “Nope.”

  “What is it, then?” I ask, but she just shakes her head, enjoying this little game of hers. “Give me a clue, if you won’t give me the answer.” I beg.

  Carefully, she unbuckles the belt and reaches for the first button of her blazer and undoes it. Although her eyes are locked on mine, I instantly run mine downward to her cleavage. My heart leaps to my
mouth, when her fingers undo the second button in line, revealing more flesh for my eyes to relish. In total, there are five buttons, and she lingers ever so slowly in unbuttoning the other three, making me clutch the sides of the seat in a sweet agony and full-blown curiosity.

  When the buttons are all freed, she pulls the sides of the blazer away and flashes me the most beautiful, perky, and round breasts I’ve ever seen, live or on TV.

  Jesus! Is it my imagination?

  To answer my previous question; yes, the top is transparent all around, and I’m beginning to think it’s no coincidence.

  I take in every curve of her breasts, her erect nipples, and the smoothness of her belly, struggling hard to hold my hands to myself. “I don’t see it.”

  She shifts her body toward me, giving me full view; her boobs sway as she turns.

  “I meant, I don’t see what your breasts have to do with our date tonight?” I drag my eyes to hers for a moment, only to drop them back to her chest. My mouth waters with the thought of tasting and pinching those heavy globes. I’d take my sweet time on each of them, savoring them, until they bruise, then rub my cock in the creamy valley between them, and coat them with my sperm.

  “You’re just messing with me to keep on staring at them, aren’t you?” She’s grinning.

  “Seriously. I swear I don’t get it. I mean, I don’t think your reason is that you want them to be grabbed… by me… is it?” I frown at the absurdity of my guess. But, who knows? She’s the most unpredictable woman I’ve ever met.

  “You, silly thing.” She shakes her head and begins buttoning up the jacket. “It’s your chest.”

  “My chest? How?” My eyes are following each move of her fingers. No, please, wait. I want to admire them for a little longer, maybe until I wet my pants with my load.

  “Do I need to spell it out?”

  “Please.”

  “Let’s say you know nothing about me,” she begins to explain. “But, you get a chance to see my boobs. Would you consider going on a date with me, at least once?”