“It’s already done. Don’t worry about it.”
“My job is to make your life easier, not more complicated.”
“And you do that—as my assistant. And your job as my girlfriend is to make me happy—and this will make me happier.” All my free time was maxed out working, so I didn’t see the harm in taking a few hours for myself once a week. “I thought we could go to breakfast. That can be our weekly thing.”
“Well, that’s really sweet. I don’t know what to say.”
I didn’t know what to say either. I got out of my chair and started to pack my things.
She picked up the crate. “I’ll put this in your executive office on the way and take care of those copies first thing in the morning.”
I took the crate from her and carried it to the cart. “You think we could have dinner with my friends on Friday night?”
She considered the request, probably thinking about what Lizzie was doing that evening. “Yeah, that should be fine.”
“Great. They’ll love you.”
“You think?” she asked as she walked beside me in her heels.
“Definitely.”
“I don’t know…I’m not a supermodel or anything.” It didn’t seem like a jab, just a moment of insecurity.
I set the crate in the back of the golf cart. “That’s debatable.”
She chuckled at my compliment.
I turned back to her.
“Supermodels don’t have stretch marks and thick thighs.”
“And they don’t have hearts of gold, kindness, and integrity either, at least not in my experience. But you have all those things. You’re the version of a supermodel that I want…and you’re perfect.”
I woke up at the same time that I did every day, hit the gym, and completed my workout before I showered and got ready for the day. But instead of having breakfast, I skipped it. She let herself in at the usual time she would meet me at the curb.
Her hair was curled and over one shoulder, and she was in a long-sleeved sweater dress with thigh-high black boots.
My gaze lingered for a while, and I reconsidered the whole breakfast idea.
She set her purse on the entry table and approached me at the dining table, smiling as she looked at me in the morning light, like it was the weekend and we had all day just to be together. We’d never been in the penthouse at this time with no immediate deadline to leave. She came closer to me then moved into my chest slowly, like she wasn’t used to being able to touch me at this hour. Her eyes dropped down to look at my chest as her palms flattened against my body. “Morning.”
My hands snaked around her body, and I held her in my grasp, feeling the fabric of the dress under my fingertips, the deep curve in her back, inhaling her perfume and her infectious energy. I looked down into her face, seeing her thick, dark eyelashes, the beautiful color of her lips. “Morning.” I’d never wanted Fleur or anyone else the way I wanted Emerson. My breath was never taken away when they stepped into the room. Whenever it was just the two of us, I was more aware of my beating heart, the way it reverberated against my chest and my entire body.
My fingers automatically lifted her dress as I slid them underneath to feel her bare skin, even though it was dangerous to touch her that way when the whole point of our morning was to get out of the penthouse and do something together. But instead of feeling her soft skin, I felt lacy fabric.
My eyes glanced down, and I realized she wore a one-piece black teddy…with an open crotch.
Jesus Christ. “How am I supposed to have breakfast with you knowing you’re wearing that?” I was hard in my jeans the second she stepped into the penthouse, looking like a fucking wet dream in those boots.
“You’re not.” She lifted herself onto the edge of the table, the place where I did my work in the evenings. Then she opened her legs and grabbed my pants by the belt loops and tugged me closer to her. Her eyes were on me as she unfastened the belt and dropped the zipper, getting my bottoms down so my throbbing cock could emerge, ready to slide into her creamy slit.
An uncontrollable moan came from the back of my throat as I tilted her back and lifted her legs so I could slide myself inside her, slide into my favorite place in the world. She was just as perfect as always, drenched and anxious to feel me pound into her. Ten years had been spent wrapped in condoms, and now it was just me and one woman, me and this woman, nothing in between us except each other.
Her fingers dug into my arms so she could hold on, a loud moan escaping her lips as she felt all of me, my anxious body that was desperate to make love to her on my dining table, to see the tears run from her eyes when she came for me.
We held on to each other as we moved together, the window right behind us, the street chaotic but our world at peace. We breathed hard and moaned when our bodies hit each other perfectly, when she felt the pleasure I gave her, and I felt more because I succeeded. I’d always been good in bed, always been selfless with my lovers, but with Emerson, it was so much more…took so much more of me.
Because I gave her everything.
We sat across from each other at a table near the window, the restaurant still busy even though most New Yorkers were at the office at this hour. We both had mugs of coffee, and I had steak and eggs, while she had a stack of pancakes drenched in syrup.
We didn’t say much.
I kept replaying that scene in my penthouse, lifting up her dress and having her while she still wore those boots. That was way better than all the screws in the alleyway, in the men’s restroom, in the front seat of my car because we couldn’t wait to get back to my place. Having such a deep connection to another person was so much more satisfying than empty sex. It was hard to believe I went so long without trying again, but it wasn’t really that hard to believe…because I hadn’t met Emerson until recently.
She dug her fork into her pancakes. “You sure you don’t want some?”
I shook my head and took a bite of my steak and eggs.
“It’s pretty good…”
I gave a slight smile before I continued to eat. “Not much of a sweet tooth.”
“Oh, then we’re never going to get along.”
I chuckled.
She sat there across from me, eating like she had no idea how beautiful she looked. Her glow didn’t come from the sun shining through the window on the fall day or the endorphins in her blood after the sex we’d had at my penthouse. It came from within, from her pure soul, from her heart. “So, Astra Books is scheduling a book signing here at the big bookstore in Times Square. It’ll take up a few hours of your Saturday. But once they started sending out information about it, they got a huge response.”
Just lost my appetite.
She studied my face, like she knew what I was thinking. “It’ll be fine, Derek.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I know you’re going to be great. You have no idea how charismatic you are.”
I released a sarcastic laugh. “Baby, let’s not forget our first couple interactions.” Even in my anger, I still loved calling her that instead of having to use her first name all the time. It flowed off my tongue much easier.
“And let’s not forget what happened after we got past those interactions, and I got to see who you really are. So, let’s skip that beginning part and get to the good stuff.”
“What am I supposed to say to these people?”
“‘Hello? How are you? Who do I make this out to?’ Stuff like that.”
I rolled my eyes at her sarcasm.
“Maybe smile…”
I dropped my gaze and continued eating.
“You were so revered at your TED Talk, Derek. Just be yourself, only less cold. Remember, these people will be coming from all over so you can sign their book. They’re fans. They have no hostile intention toward you.”
“I understand that. I just…don’t want to disappoint them.”
“We’ll practice, then.”
It was a bit embarrassing that I had to prac
tice a basic human interaction.
“Pretend they’re me.”
Both of my eyebrows rose up my face.
“I mean, not like that. Just…you’re comfortable around me.”
“I don’t know if that will work.”
“That’s why we’ll practice. I have no doubt you’ll do great, Derek. It’s just a hurdle we have to get over. And remember, your story means something to these people. They’re excited to see you. It’ll be fun.”
I had a much different idea of fun.
“I was thinking we could have your parents there too.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I think the fans will like it, seeing your family there.”
“I don’t think my parents would—”
“Their son is a famous author. Yes, they want to be there.”
I knew Emerson always involved my parents because she was a parent herself, and she knew how important every little thing was, even when I was a grown man. “Alright. But they’re both really busy—”
“Trust me, a parent is never too busy to be there for their son.”
I dropped my gaze and looked at my food again, slicing into the scrambled eggs before putting them into my mouth. “No wonder why they like you.”
She smiled. “I just know how it is.”
Her daughter gave her a sense of maturity that I didn’t have, that most people probably didn’t have.
“You know, one of the things I found most attractive about you is the way you talk about your parents. The way you speak so highly of your father, the way you are close with your mom…it’s really sexy.”
I lifted my chin and looked at her. “Yeah?”
“It’s nice to see a man respect his parents, appreciate them. You never know the sacrifices your parents make for you until you become a parent yourself. And you aren’t a parent yet, but you’re very kind toward them.”
Sometimes her compliments made me uncomfortable—not because I disliked them; I just didn’t know what to say. Now was one of those times. I let the silence linger for a while. “I like that you’re a good mom and take care of your parents.”
When she smiled, it reached her eyes, like that meant a great deal to her.
“You’re the strongest person I know.”
“Oh, come on…”
“I’m serious. You had a daughter before you were eighteen, but you still pursued your career and accomplished everything you dreamed of. You made it work. You didn’t make excuses. You hustled when others would have given up. You did everything you could to give your daughter a better life, even taking this job.”
“Well, this job has been nothing but a blessing…in so many ways.”
I shook my head slightly. “I know it’s tough, baby. You take care of your daughter and parents off the clock, and during working hours, you’re taking care of me…and I’m a very high-maintenance person.”
Her eyes softened. “I get paid very well to take care of a gorgeous, brilliant man who gives me the best sex I’ve ever had. Yeah, it’s a dream job.”
I stopped eating and noted what she said. “Best you’ve ever had?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said with a laugh. “You kidding me?”
My ego rose at the same time as my lips.
“But I’m sure every woman says that about you…”
I’d never asked. “You’re the best too.”
She released a scoff. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?” When we were at work, we had deep conversations, but not like this. The subject was usually related to work, probably because we were aware of our surroundings. This was the first time we’d actually gone out to eat together. The dinner with my parents didn’t count, and our pit stop to get burgers didn’t count either…because we bolted before we even got the food.
“Because…it’s impossible.” She cut into her pancakes and lifted a piece that dripped with syrup. “You’ve been with a lot of beautiful woman over a long time. Just statistically speaking, that can’t be right.”
I tried to organize my thoughts so I could convey them accurately. “Yes, I’ve been with a lot of women, but the only reason I was with them was for sex. I was never in an emotional relationship with any of them. You’re the only woman I’ve had a deep connection with. So, if you’re the only one…you have to be the best. Because having sex with someone you’re in love with is much different from just fucking to get off.”
Her expression immediately dropped, and her face turned white as milk. She was still as a statue, not even breathing. Her eyes shifted back and forth as she looked at me.
I detected the intensity of the situation, unsure what I’d said that had affected her so deeply. “What did I say?”
“I just…didn’t know you felt that way.”
“Felt what way?” I asked, genuinely confused.
She studied me for a while, as if she were trying to digest what I’d said just as I was trying to decipher what she’d just said. “What you just said…”
“What did I say?” I asked, more confused. “You’re the best I’ve ever had. I mean that.”
She cleared her throat then dropped her gaze. “I-I’m flattered.” She stabbed her fork into her pancakes and took another bite, her eyes down the entire time. Syrup dripped from her fork and onto the plate until it finally stopped and she placed it in her mouth. Then she looked out the window.
I couldn’t read her mood right now. Maybe she was just touched by what I’d said. Or maybe she didn’t like to think about the others. I really didn’t know. Instead of asking, I just let it go, knowing she would bounce back.
I removed her dress because I wanted to see the lingerie underneath, but I kept on the boots because those were sexy. Naked and on top of her, I thrust inside her with her legs wrapped around my waist, the material of her boots rubbing against me as we ground together.
Her fingers dug into my hair and she breathed against my mouth, moaning quietly for me, whispering my name, more vocal in her lovemaking than before. She held me tighter, writhed hard, became a more emotional lover than before, her nails slicing into me in a frenzy, the sound of my name more desperate than it’d ever been before. She wanted more of me, more than I could give because I already gave her everything.
She grabbed my ass and pulled me deeper inside her. “Derek…yes.” She kissed me between her moans, kissed me hard as her body became wetter than ever before, as she flooded me with her arousal, getting so slick it was becoming more difficult to feel her. But her desire was such a turn-on that I didn’t care.
Not one bit.
4
Emerson
“I’m going to work a party for my boss.” I hated lying to my daughter, getting dressed up to go out to dinner with Derek and his friends. I wore a simple black dress with heels and a clutch, my hair was big and curled, and I had smoky eye makeup like this was not a work function at all.
“Can you bring me something?” Lizzie asked from the couch as she looked at her device.
“Like?”
“A burger or something.”
“You’re having dinner with Grandma.”
She made a face. “Grandma’s cooking is fine, but they don’t put salt in anything.”
“Because Grandpa can’t have it, and you know that. Besides, it’s good for you.”
“Look, I’m young. If I’m going to eat garbage, I should do it now, right?”
“You should only do it in moderation—regardless of age.”
“Well, it’s not a night for moderation.”
I rolled my eyes because I hated it when my daughter kicked my ass in arguments. She was so damn smart, but I couldn’t tell her that because she would keep beating me with her witty perspective. “What do you want?”
“I can have anything I want?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes. Use it wisely.”
“Oh wow… I didn’t think you would actually say yes.”
“I gotta get going, Lizzie. Text me what you want. G
randma will be over in a second.”
“Okay. Bye, Mom.”
“Love you.”
She waved from the couch but didn’t turn around to watch me go. “Love you too.”
When I made it into the hallway, I ran into my mother. “I’m bringing her dinner, so you don’t need to make anything for her.”
“Where are you going?”
“Meeting some of Derek’s friends.”
“Really?” she asked, her voice full of disapproval, potent because she wanted me to know exactly how she felt. “So, when is he going to meet Lizzie?”
He’d told me he loved me without even realizing it, like it tumbled out of his mouth without control. So, I had faith that this would work…in time. “We’ll get there, Mom. He’s the best guy I know.”
“If he’s the best guy, he should have no problem meeting Lizzie. She’s not going anywhere—”
“Mom, I know you don’t approve of what I’m doing, but I’m a grown woman who makes my own decisions. If I get knocked on my ass, that’s my problem and not yours. If I end up losing my job, I will figure out what to do to keep us afloat—like I always do.”
Her eyes emptied of hostility. “Emmy, you know I don’t care about that. I just don’t want you to get hurt… That’s all.”
“He won’t hurt me. He would never hurt me.” I’d put all my chips on the table once I knew how he really felt about me, even if he wasn’t aware of it, even if he wouldn’t tell me directly. His heart was in the right place, and that was all that mattered. “I’ll be home in a couple hours.”
I met him at the restaurant.
He stood outside as he waited for me, in black jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt, looking like a goddamn hunk with that beautiful physique. He looked so much better in just his skin, but that body made his clothes look good too. His jaw was cleanly shaved, and he looked down the sidewalk as he waited for me to arrive—like a gentleman.
The Boy Who Has No Belief (Soulless Book 7) Page 3