WORTHY

by Lexie Ray

  “So?” he pushed me. “Let’s hear it.”

  “That same guy said you used to be a total dick,” I said as solemnly as I could.

  Jonathan burst out into instant laughter, and I had no choice but to join him. We laughed and laughed until my sides felt like they would split.

  “A total dick,” Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head and sounding like he was winded. “Well, I haven’t quite heard it put like that, so that’s a new one. A new puzzle piece I can try and fit in somewhere.”

  “You’re not angry?” I asked, peering at him.

  “How could I be?” he said, shrugging helplessly. “I can’t remember a thing before waking up on your couch. How could I be upset about the man I used to be?”

  I took stock of his openness and decided to try to press a little bit.

  “Why is it so important to try to find that man?” I asked gingerly, hoping I wasn’t treading on thin ice. “Do you think your search is holding you back from moving forward?”

  Jonathan was pensive for a few minutes. I rested my head on his shoulder, contrite, certain that I’d pushed him too hard.

  “You may have something there,” he said. “I know I spend a lot of time at it, a lot of time going through old files and photos and books and things, but I’m just trying to glean some knowledge. If I want to do right by this company, which is mine, I have to try as hard as I can to grasp the knowledge and wisdom I used to have. That’s gone, Michelle, but I don’t think I can just turn my back on it without at least fighting for it. I want to be a good leader for this company. I really do.”

  “I know you do,” I said. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you should just give up.”

  He kissed me, his lips feather-light against my forehead. “I’m trying to be realistic,” he said. “I understand that I may never get my memories back, that I’m cramming for a test I’ll always be doomed to fail. But I have to try, Michelle.”

  I swallowed so hard that I was sure Jonathan would hear it.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his voice soft.

  “I was looking for a picnic basket,” I murmured. “I thought maybe I could shift some of those files around in all those boxes in your home office.”

  “Oh, Michelle …”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have looked in them. They’re your private things. But I looked, and I saw all the pictures of you and Violet, and they made me doubt everything. How can I try to be with you when she was here first? I know we’ve talked about it, but I just feel like we can’t, in good faith—”

  He halted my words with his lips, and I was so grateful. I had been about to say “be together,” as in “we can’t be together,” but Jonathan had kissed me instead. I let myself tumble with him into an embrace. If I kept my eyes closed, maybe it would be summer again. Maybe we would be back at the cottage, sprawled out over a blanket in the middle of the field, surrounded by flowers and the slow, fragrant breeze.

  We came up for air, and the illusion vanished. We were two confused lovers sitting on the floor of a CEO’s corner office. There were no flowers to be found, and the only breeze was from the heat coming out of the register.

  “Jon …”

  “No, baby,” he said, holding my face in his hands, one palm resting on my smooth cheek and the other on my scarred cheek. It was total contact, and I couldn’t handle it. I squirmed away, but he trapped me in his arms.

  “Jon, please …”

  “No, Michelle,” he said, kissing me so deeply that I was once again transported back to the cottage. Why couldn’t we always be there? I knew why Jonathan felt like he had to try and reconcile with a past he couldn’t remember, but that didn’t mean I had to understand why it had to be so hard. Going to the cottage had been my way of escaping. Couldn’t we both escape together? Just go back to where we’d been happiest?

  “I love you,” Jonathan said, his conviction so deep that it brought tears to my eyes. “I love you, and all I want to do is be with you. I want the best life we can possibly have. I want to be the best man I possibly can be for you. That’s all I want, Michelle.”

  It was all I wanted, too, but there were so many things going against us. If the terrible welcome home dinner was any indication, Jonathan realized it, too.

  But the way he was kissing me made me let go of it all, just let go and fall with him. If only we could be together like this all the time.

  Jonathan cupped my crotch through my skinny jeans, the denim and my panties beneath the only barrier between the heel of his hand and my clitoris. When he rubbed me there, I gave a long, low keen before he swallowed the sound of pleasure with a kiss.

  “You’ll have to try to be quiet,” he whispered, smiling wickedly at me. “Remember, there are people just beyond that glass.”

  My face flushed in both embarrassment and pleasure, the erotic dimension of sex just yards from other people heightening my arousal. Would I be able to be quiet enough for our coupling to escape detection? I didn’t have a choice. I had to be. It would be a hell of a thing for Jonathan’s reputation to be tainted by this kind of incident.

  “Maybe we should just go back to the house,” I hissed, stilling the movement of his hand against my mound. “It’ll be safer, and we can make all the noise we want.” I thought about the way Amelia had scowled at me. “Well, all the noise we want within reason.”

  “Is safe what you want?” Jonathan asked, gently applying pressure to my clitoris with the heel of his hand until I saw stars. It felt so delicious, and I knew that part of it was because of the danger of our situation.

  “No,” I allowed finally, grinding against his hand. “No, I want you.”

  Jonathan continued to rub his hand against my clitoris as he worked his other hand beneath my sweater, squeezing my breasts through my bra. My nipples hardened under his ministrations, and he sought them out immediately, pinching and working them until I was bucking against the carpet. It felt amazing, and it was all I could do not to cry out, to urge him on as loudly as I could.

  “You have to be quiet,” Jonathan reminded, his eyes twinkling. He seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much. I took the opportunity to let loose a small moan when he kissed me again. What we were doing was beyond stupid, beyond risky, but I didn’t care. Let them all hear. Let them all know that this Jonathan—and me, Michelle, his fiancée—were here to stay.

  “I want you,” I murmured, arching into his touch, pushing for more and more pleasure. “I need you.” I could feel my panties getting wet from all of the attentions he lavished on me.

  “I need you, baby,” Jonathan said, kissing me on my temple. “I need you more than you know. I feel like you’re the only real thing in my life, the only one I can trust. Do you trust me?”

  I nodded. At that point, at just how close I was to orgasm, I probably would’ve nodded at anything. But I did trust Jonathan. I would never have come to Chicago if I didn’t trust him, if I didn’t love him.

  I loved him so much.

  “Please,” I whispered. “Please, please.”

  “Anything for you,” Jonathan said, pushing against me even harder. “Everything for you.”

  His relentless rhythm defeated me, and I screwed my eyes shut as I came, shuddering and trembling and doing all I could to not scream out in pleasure. I clapped a hand over my own mouth as I heard somebody using the copy machine located nearby. I had to fight the urge to giggle shrilly in my panic.

  “Hold on, baby,” Jonathan said, kissing me breathless. “We’re not done yet.”

  There was more? I didn’t think I could handle another round. When Jonathan unfastened my jeans and peeled them away from my still thrumming body, I knew I was in real trouble.

  “Jon, I can’t,” I whispered desperately, seizing his hands as they tried to worm their way under me in search of my bra clasp. “I can’t stay silent. It feels too good. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “Me, in trouble?” Jonathan laughed outright. “T
he CEO doesn’t get in trouble, Michelle. Or so I’m told. I could have you screaming nonsense words in here and no one would say anything.”

  “They’d all talk about it,” I said. “Think of your reputation.”

  “Think of how good you’re about to feel,” he said, his every word a dark, delicious promise. I hissed as his fingers plunged between my labia, sliding easily through the slick folds. My traitorous body responded to his every move, anticipating the pleasure that was to come.

  I gave up. There was nothing I could do but give in. Jonathan was bound and determined to give me this pleasure. All I had to do was accept it—as quietly as possible.

  Jonathan took off his jeans, and I licked my lips, liking the way his erection made a tent out of his boxers. I liked the fact that he was attracted to me, especially because my scar made me wonder sometimes. Here was physical proof that I had the same effect on him as he did on me.

  “Are you ready?” Jonathan asked. The hum of the copy machine died down, and I imagined the worker returning to his or her desk. They would walk right by here, walk right by the room where Jonathan and I were both half naked, getting ready to have hot, hot sex on the floor. The thought was electrifying, and it made me wish for a moment to have a bird’s eye view of our situation, Jonathan and I making love and the rest of the Wharton Group employees hard at work just a short distance away. My mental picture of it made me part my legs, made me put my own hand against my wet pussy and rub it invitingly.

  “Come and get your dessert,” I said, blushing as I said it. I didn’t have any experience with talking dirty, and I didn’t want to sound like a fool. But we had talked about dessert. And I knew Jonathan had quite a sweet tooth when it came to sex.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, guiding his cock into my body. I wanted to scream at the divine fullness, to beg him to fuck me, but I couldn’t. I had to exercise control over myself, and that barrier was both a pain and an intense pleasure.

  “You like this, don’t you?” Jonathan murmured, grinning crookedly at me before grunting softly at the closeness of my body around his cock. “You like having these rules.”

  “Sometimes games are fun,” I gasped, hardly trusting my voice to speak. One wrong move and I’d scream in spite of my caution.

  Jonathan withdrew a little bit before pushing forward again, rubbing against all of my hot spots as he went. It was intoxicating, and I had to cover my mouth with my own hand again to stifle the cries of pleasure I wanted to fill the air with.

  “I don’t think I’m going to last very long under these conditions,” Jonathan said, a light sheen of sweat dotting his forehead. “You feel too good, baby.”

  God, I loved it when he called me baby. And I loved it when he was inside of me, telling me how good it felt. The bite of the thick carpet beneath my rump added to the strangeness of the situation. I swiveled my head to the side and gasped.

  “What is it?” he asked, his voice hushed and wary.

  I’d forgotten about the view. Here we were, both bereft of pants, having sex on the floor of Jonathan’s corner office. We may have been at the top of the Wharton Group office building, but there were far taller buildings all around. Some were quite close.

  “Do you think anyone can see inside of here?” I asked, not sure if I were more frightened or turned on at the prospect.

  “If they can, then I hope they’re enjoying themselves as much as we are,” he said, pushing forward again. I felt that I was on the same edge he was, pushed by the same desires, the same rhythms, the same needs. We needed this togetherness, needed to steal these little moments in life. We deserved to have fun and make mischief, even if it meant an illicit Saturday afternoon hookup in the corner office.

  “This is what I want,” Jonathan breathed, pumping in and out of me. “I would do this in front of the entire world to show them—and you—just how much I love you. I love you so, so much, baby.”

  I melted at his words, quickened at the prospect of our lovemaking being on display for the entire world to see, and came apart at the seams as my fiancé drove me into my second orgasm of the afternoon. This time, it was Jonathan who had to cover my mouth with his hand. That made my pleasure even more potent—I could faintly smell my own tangy scent on his palm from the first orgasm.

  Within a few moments, Jonathan came, filling me to the brim with his essence. I moaned low in my throat, fisting my hands in his hair, and kissed him as he groaned. I wondered if his knees would have carpet burn after this. Hell, I wondered if my ass would have carpet burn after this.

  “Do you think anyone heard?” I asked, still breathless from our tryst.

  “I hope they did,” he said, laughing as he withdrew from my body, making me shiver.

  “I guess we’ll see if we’re going to be doing a walk of shame or not,” I said, pulling my jeans back up and over my hips. There was something primal and satisfying with the wetness between my legs. It was our mingling essences, both of our ecstasies blending together.

  “Michelle …”

  I turned to look at Jonathan, who had already put himself back together, shoes and all.

  “Yes?”

  “Be patient with me,” he said. “Please, be patient. There may come a day when I don’t care about who I used to be anymore. If that day ever comes, and you don’t want to be in the city anymore, I’ll go wherever you want to.”

  “Even back to the cottage?”

  “Especially back to the cottage. But just give me time, baby.”

  “Of course,” I said, stepping into his outstretched arms. “Of course. Take all the time you think you need. I’m here for you. I love you. And I want you to do what’s right.”

  I started picking up the wreckage of our picnic and putting the reusable containers back into the basket while depositing the rest of the debris into the trashcan.

  “There’s something about picnics, isn’t there?” Jonathan asked, smiling.

  “Brings out the best in us, I think,” I said, grinning back at him. “Do you have to stay at work much longer?” I sagged a little inside thinking about going back to the house, where Amelia was possibly lying in wait. I just didn’t think that woman and I would ever be friends.

  “You know what?” he said. “I’m the boss. I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my weekend with my fiancée.”

  It was a simple statement, but it buoyed my spirit. A weekend with my fiancé. That almost sounded normal.

  Chapter Twenty One

  We spent our free time as wisely as we could, knowing that it was few and far between all of Jonathan’s challenges and commitments. We hit up the Field Museum and the Art Institute, walked the frigid shoreline of Lake Michigan, and even toured Northwestern and DePaul universities on Sunday afternoon.

  “I don’t know if I could go to school physically—like actually get myself to college every day,” I said, looking at the bustle of students crossing the picturesque campuses. “I feel old.”

  “You’re not old,” Jonathan laughed. “You can do whatever you want to!”

  “Maybe I’ll take some online courses first,” I said, thinking of Collier. “See where my interests lie.”

  We stayed out late, looking at the city lights, both of us dreading our return to the compound.

  “It seems like another world, doesn’t it?” Jonathan asked as we approached. “Like nothing inside it is real.”

  “It’s your family,” I said. “You’ll get to know them. You’re lucky to get that chance.”

  “I wonder sometimes,” Jonathan said, following me up the stairs to his floor. We passed by his home office, and I shuddered at all the boxes still scattered across the floor. Those were all of his memories with Violet.

  “Goddamn it,” he swore viciously.

  “What is it?”

  “I have lunch with Violet tomorrow. I almost forgot.”

  I sagged without meaning to. We had agreed to have lunch tomorrow at a little eatery we had passed today that was closed
on Sundays.

  “That’s all right,” I said. “You—you can take her to that place you found. It’ll probably be good.”

  “Look, this isn’t worth it anymore,” Jonathan said, kicking at a box. “I’m tired of dragging you through all this bullshit—excuse my language.”

  There was nothing to excuse. It was bullshit, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree. I needed to be supportive of him. I knew it had to be more difficult for him than me.

  “You’re doing what you think is right,” I said. “You’re trying to unravel your past, which is admirable. You’re showing Violet a kindness.”

  I hoped my words rang truer in Jonathan’s ears than mine. I couldn’t help but think back on my nighttime conversation with Collier. Did I really want Jonathan to put together the pieces of who he used to be? I wasn’t sure that I would love that man. I was even less sure that man would love me.

  “But I’m tired,” he said, sinking to the edge of the bed and burying his face in his hands. “Everyone wants me to remember, but I just can’t. I don’t know if I have memories or if they’re just random bits of information and facts that people have been trying to stuff in my brain.”

  “You need to rest,” I said. “Why don’t you take a couple of days off from work? Remember? You can tell them to go to hell. I bet Collier—your dad—would step in for you. He’d do anything for you to make sure you’re all right.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “The company is my responsibility,” he said. “I’m the CEO. It needs me. I need to be there.”

  I took his hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure my fiancé of things I wasn’t even sure of.

  “If I have to endure one more round of Violet’s weeping, I’m going to keel over dead,” he muttered darkly, staring at the floor.

  “You’d think she’d run out of tears by now,” I said, trying to make a joke. It fell flat, and I felt bad for even trying.

  “All I want to do is marry you,” Jonathan said. “I don’t even care about the past. I just want to know enough to be able to lead the company well. That’s all. I don’t care about who I loved or what I used to like to do.”