by Sophie Stern
But I did that.
I did all of that and I did it today.
And now I'm terrified of what's going to come next.
"I'm sorry," I finally say, breaking the silence. And I am. I'm not pouring the words out because they sound nice or pretty. Coming from me, they sound neither. I'm only saying it because it's true and because it's what he deserves. He deserves to hear that I was wrong. We both know it.
"Charlotte," he begins, but then hesitates. He seems to be waiting for another outburst, for me to interrupt again, for me to call him a name or slap him, but I don't. I just wait. Once he knows that the speaking floor is his, he starts talking again.
"I should have been clear with you. I didn't mean to lead you on. Make no mistake: I find you wildly attractive. Everything about you is just," he pauses, as if searching for the perfect word, "exciting," he finally settles on. "Your hair, your clothes, your makeup, your smile. It's all just fantastic."
His words glow in my soul, reminding me that sometimes, the world can be a beautiful place.
But then the harsh reality comes crashing down around me when he says, "But I can't be in a relationship with you. Not right now. My offer, much as it pains me, is purely a business negotiation."
And that's when I realize that Cinderella dreams are just that: dreams.
This guy took me out for an incredible dinner, cared for me when I was sick, and then bought me the most beautiful necklace I've ever laid eyes on.
But he still doesn't want me.
And I doubt he ever could.
"This was a mistake," I say, and his eyes dart quickly to me before going back to the road.
"Charlotte?" He seems surprised at my reaction.
"Take me home."
"What's wrong?" He places a hand on mine, but I pull it away and grit my teeth.
"I want to go home, August."
"Okay, but will you talk to me?"
He pulls the car over and I focus on my breathing. I don't know if it's rage or frustration or embarrassment or disappointment that's boiling my stomach, but it's something fierce that I've never felt before.
It's been a long time since a boy made me cry.
And I don't want to do it in front of August.
"I don't think I can work with you," I tell him. I'm being honest. Even if it's part-time work, even if it's from my office, even if it's only on the weekends, I don't know if I'm ready for him. I don't know if I'm ready for August.
Am I really strong enough to handle this?
Am I really brave enough to take on this world?
"If it's the pay-" he starts, but I hold up a hand and cut him off.
"It's not that."
"Then what's the problem?"
The tears burn my cheeks as they fall faster than I thought possible. I feel myself blushing, unable to stop them from falling. I don't bother wiping my cheeks. He knows what's happening. There's no point in trying to hide it.
Did I really think he'd ever be able to make me feel this way?
Did I really think he'd be able to hurt me?
It hasn't even been a week since I met him and already I'm crying over him.
Me! Crying over a boy. How pathetic is that?
"I like you," I tell him simply. I've never been a coward and I'm not going to be one now. It might not be politically correct for me to tell a guy I "like" him. I might seem like a middle school girl confessing to her crush. I don't really care. August deserves to know why I don't want to work for him.
"Then what's the problem?" Again with the hands. Why is he always touching me? For someone who doesn't want a relationship, his hands are on me. A lot. I fight back the quiver that's building up in my body, but I can't. I'm still crying, only now I'm quivering at his touch, too.
Perfect.
How am I for a hot mess?
"The problem is that I don't think I can work with you and not want more."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," I sigh. Are all billionaires this clueless? "I don't think I can work with you and not think every second of every day about you stripping me down and throwing me against the wall in a passionate kiss. I don't think I can work with you and not wonder what it's like to feel your cock pulsing in my mouth. I don't think I can work with you and not picture us naked on your bed, fucking harder than anyone has ever fucked before. That's what I mean, August."
His jaw hits the floor.
"Now, please, August. Just take me home."
He doesn't say a word as he drives me back to my house. He pulls into the driveway and I let myself out, nodding politely to him. Then I close his door and walk the stairs to my house, crying the entire time.
Why did he have to walk into my life?
9
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Anna is standing in my doorway, glaring at me while I cry.
What a great sister.
Instead of answering her, I throw a pillow in her general direction. It hits the dresser and knocks my jewelry box to the floor, scattering earrings everywhere.
Perfect.
"Seriously," now she's in the room standing over me. "You need to figure this out because you're being stupid."
"What do you even know?"
"Uh, I know a lot more than you think. I know that August is a really great guy and you really like him. I also know that you're totally blowing it."
Who does she think she is?
She has no idea what it was like at his house, feeling pampered and beautiful and then being pushed aside. She doesn't know what it was like to be wined and dined and then told I'm "just a business connection."
Anna has no fucking clue.
"You don't get it." I'm still sobbing. I don't even think she can understand me, but it doesn't stop me from trying to speak. "I am so fucking crazy about this guy and I barely know him. And every time we're together, we're just electric."
"Yes, Charlotte, I too have had lovers." She pats her belly, as if to remind me exactly how experienced she is. "But you can't keep this up. You can't keep coming home crying after every interaction with this guy."
"I always feel like he likes me, but then he makes a comment about how he's only interested in me professionally, how he's not ready for a relationship."
"So?"
"So, it's horrible."
"Have you ever thought that maybe there's something he's not telling you?"
Um, no.
I haven't.
Waves of embarrassment cover me again.
It's a feeling I'm quickly getting used to.
"What do you mean?" I ask, looking up from my bed.
"I mean, maybe he's not ready for a relationship. Maybe he actually likes you, but he just got dumped or he's dealing with personal issues. Maybe he's completely smitten by you and it scares him, Charlie."
"I guess I hadn't thought about that." Though, to be honest, I'm not sure that it matters. Do I really want to waste my time on someone who has personal issues he can't talk to me about? Do I really want to date someone who has a terrible secret? Do I really want to go crazy over someone who makes me feel like a million dollars and then who makes me feel like I just don't fit in his world?
Do I?
Absolutely, if it's August we're talking about.
I get the feeling that he's worth the pain.
"I know you didn't think about it," Anna says, leaning casually against my door. "And that's why you have me." She turns to walk away, yelling over her shoulder, "I'm the smart sister."
I lean back on the bed and take a series of deep breaths.
Maybe she's right.
Maybe I'm overreacting.
Maybe August really thinks I'm great, but wants to wait awhile before pursuing me. Maybe he wants to get to know me first. Maybe he wants to make sure I'm someone he can see a future with before he commits.
There are a lot of maybes floating around in my mind right now.
The phone rings. It's him. Of course it's him. He's been calling me ever since
he dropped me off.
But I just can't.
I can't hear his voice without melting.
I can't hear his voice without dreaming about the way he looks at me.
And right now, what I need is a clear head.
Right now, what I need is to stop thinking about August Mason, if only for a little while.
10
"You have a visitor," Tim tells me when I walk into the tech department on Monday morning. He jerks his head toward me office and gives me a questioning look, but wisely says nothing else.
I know exactly who it is.
August called and texted me last night, but I didn't answer. I didn't want to. I couldn't. I'm still reeling from the idea that we had a connection when all we really had was a common business goal. Well, that and the fact that I like to drink wine.
And lots of it.
Even if Anna really is right and August cares for me, I'm so hurt and confused by our entire weekend together that I don't think I can focus when I talk to him.
All I'm going to be doing is wondering how good he is in bed or whether or not he'll ever actually kiss me.
And is that any way to treat a business connection?
"Do I look okay?" Tim looks as surprised that I asked the question as I am that I asked it. I've never once mentioned my appearance to Tim. Ever. But I'm suddenly incredible self-conscious and want to make sure that I look absolutely perfect when I walk through the door to my office.
Tim finally gets it together and nods quickly.
"You look wonderful, Charlotte," he says. "Really good." Then, glancing over at my office and back to me, he adds, "Don't worry about a thing. You're going to knock his socks off."
I nod, grateful that Tim gives me such a boost of confidence. We aren't close. We aren't friends. We barely speak. But somehow he manages to calm my shaking nerves more than anyone else at this moment in time.
I feel like I'm moving in slow motion as I walk to my office door and push it open.
And he's there.
Visions of us fucking on my desk, on the floor, on my chair, and against the wall flash through my brain.
And part of me can't believe I said all that shit to him yesterday.
But another part of me, a deeper part, wishes that all of that could come true.
I love the way I feel around August. I love that he gets me. I love that he doesn't care about my weird hair or the way I dress. I love that he makes me feel comfortable. I love that he makes me feel like no one else in the world matters when we're together.
But I also know that he meant it when he said "no."
So why is my stomach full of butterflies?
"August," I say curtly, walking inside and dropping my purse on the desk. I slide into my seat and start up the computer, not looking at him, not asking him what he wants.
So I'm surprised when he yanks me out of the chair, pushes me against the wall, and leans in very close to me. We're almost touching. Our noses are almost touching. And I can feel his breath on my face.
A shiver shoots through my entire body and settles between my legs, instantly soaking my panties, instantly craving his cock. It’s been a long time since I was intimate with someone, but that’s not why I’m going so crazy. No, I buried my feelings of lust and excitement long ago, but somehow, August brings them all out.
Somehow he makes me want things, makes me want him. He makes me need him close to me, inside of me. He makes me want everything he has to offer and then he makes me want a little bit more.
I’m going to go crazy if he doesn’t take me soon.
"Charlotte Ryan," he murmur, pushing me harder against the wall. His entire body is pressed against mine now. His dick is hard. I can feel it.
"August," I manage to get out, not sure what he's doing. "What are you doing? Why are you here?"
"I wanted to forget you," he says, whispering in my ear. "I wanted to forget the way you make my cock hard and the way you make me crave you, but I can't. You're an itch I just can't scratch, Charlotte, and it's driving me insane."
Then his lips are on mine and his tongue is in my mouth.
If I was breathing before, I've stopped now.
And I melt into his body as he grips my hair with one hand and my ass with the other.
This might be the best first kiss the world has ever seen.
Finally, I realize what's happening, and I push him away, but he doesn't go far. Our lips are barely apart when I ask him, "What changed?"
"I'm not ready for a relationship," he tells me. Of course he's not. He's said it a million times.
"But," he continues, and my heart leaps into my throat. "I can't stand not being with you. If I can't see you every day, I'm going to go insane. I need you. I need to be around you. I need every inch of you yearning for me the way I yearn for you."
And then he's kissing me again, grabbing my ass, stroking my face, touching every inch of my body.
And as I let my head fall back and let out a moan, I catch Timothy standing in my doorway with his jaw open.
But I just close my eyes.
And let the moment take me.
11
August Mason is in my office kissing me.
And a million thoughts are racing through my head.
When he asked me to be his social media manager, I hoped it would lead to more. I needed it to. The way he talked to me, touched me, cared for me, and doted on me made me think that maybe, just maybe, this could be something.
Maybe.
But his constant I'm not ready attitude threw me for a loop. If mixed signals were an alcoholic beverage, I'd be drunk right now.
But I'm not.
I'm in his arms, in my office, kissing him like a crazy woman who's been locked up far too long, soaking up every second of this while it lasts. I don't want to let myself believe that he means it when he says that he needs me. This week has been such a rollercoaster of emotions that I don't know if I'm ready.
"Ahem," a sound comes from the doorway and August stops kissing me. We both look over. Timothy, my boss, is standing there watching us. Perfect. I don't think he's going to fire me, but he could. My behavior this morning is really, really not professional. If anything, I'm surprised that Timothy doesn't have a boner from the way August and I were going at it on my desk.
"Tim," I say, trying not to give away my sudden nervousness. "You know Mr. Mason."
"August, please," August extends his hand and Tim gives it a gentle shake. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Shoemaker."
"Likewise," Tim says, looking from August to me and then back again. He looks like he wants to say something about my behavior, but after a very, very long second, he doesn't. He turns back to me, seemingly deciding to ignore my make out session, and says, "Meeting upstairs in ten, Charlie."
I nod. I remember scheduling the meeting to talk about the direction of the school’s website with the president of the college. Apparently he has some ideas for how the site can be improved.
"I'll be there," I say to Tim. He nods again to August, then leaves. Once he's gone, August turns back to me and keeps kissing me.
"Mmm," I moan. I feel his kiss throughout my entire body. Every ounce of me is alive. My panties are soaked and I feel his hardness pushing up against me. If August thought that kissing me was going to be enough to satisfy me, he was wrong. All I want to do is slam my office door closed and strip him down, kissing every inch of him.
But I can't.
At least not yet.
Finally, I push him away with a regretful smile and tell him I need to get going.
"I kind of can't believe you came over," I tell him honestly. "I didn't think you were ever going to speak to me again."
"I know this week has been weird," he comments thoughtfully. "It's been weird for both of us. There are a lot of things going on in my life right now." This is where he frowns.
I wince, hoping he's not going to change his mind about wanting to be with me. He can't. At least, he can't
yet. Not before he actually gets to know me, right? But he doesn't say that he wants out. He doesn't.
"I know," I tell him. "I imagine you're quite a busy man trying to keep your father's business running well." August’s father owns one of the largest robotics companies in the country. As the oldest son in the family, it's his job to keep everything together, basically.
"It's not just that," he says. "Though that is a big part of it. There are a few things you need to know about me, Charlotte, before we can decide if this is going to work. I know you have to go, but have dinner with me."
It's not a request and I don't want it to be. Though to be perfectly candid, what I hope we're having for dinner starts with "S" and ends in screaming orgasms for both of us. That might be moVing a little quickly, even for billionaire boy, but I don't really care. He makes me so excited and nervous and anxious all at once.
And I bet he knows his way around a pussy.
"Absolutely," I kiss him again, biting his bottom lip softly before I reluctantly release him.
"I'll pick you up at 7," he says. "Dress sexy."
Then he winks and walks out the door. I hear him politely say goodbye to my coworkers before he disappears upstairs. Working in the basement of Southvale Community College's administration building has its downside. Most of the time, I'm sad that I don't have windows in my office because I want to see the sunlight. Today I'm sad because I can't stare at August's ass while he walks to his car.
A knock sounds at my door and I look up. Timothy is back.
"Ready to go?" He asks.
I nod.
Time to show the president of Southvale what I'm made of.
***
The meeting lasts twice as long as I want it to and gets half as much accomplished. While designing websites and maintaining a positive online presence is sort of my thing, it doesn't seem to matter to Jason Carson. While I understand, logically, that he's basically in charge of the community college that controls my paycheck, I don't understand where he gets off telling me how to do my job.