Desire Me

by Kayla C. Oliver

  “I’ll stop when I leave this place. There will be so many new problems to think about when I’m back in Brunswick, I won’t get a chance,” I said.

  “I’ll come visit you in a few months, and you can introduce me to some nice small-town guy I can settle down with,” Ira said, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Small-town guys are overrated!”

  “Are you kidding me? All those C Scape men, your cousin included, are like sizzling specimens of male perfection!” she retorted, and I laughed.

  “I guess they are. They’re all taken though, and I hear that the women are lovely,” I told her, and Ira sighed, sinking back into the couch.

  “I’m a little tired too of this modern dating game. I want to be seduced and chased and admired. I want to be swept off my feet!” she exclaimed and made a sweeping gesture with her arms, which made me laugh.

  “I don’t know what I want!” I said.

  “You want Gareth Gray.”

  “And he doesn’t want me.”

  “Because he’s an arrogant, stubborn ass!” Ira said, and we laughed again.

  “That is probably a precise description of him,” I said, and Ira poured us some more wine.

  This was turning out to be a fun night, speckled with some sadness. I wasn’t prepared to leave New York just yet, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that it was the right decision to make.

  I would miss New York and Ira and our apartment. I would miss every possibility of bumping into Gareth again, and the chaos and the madness of this city.

  What choice did I have though? I couldn’t survive here. Not without giving up my art, and that wasn’t something I was prepared to do. In Brunswick where the rents weren’t this sky-high, and where I had a job waiting for me, I could pursue my art in peace and hope that someday all my efforts would have been worth it.

  ***

  The fact that I was hungover the next day didn’t come as a surprise. I woke up on my bed to find that Ira had already left. Hers was a full-time, seven-day-a-week job, and she didn’t have the time to nurse hangovers.

  I managed to drag myself out of bed eventually to make myself a cup of coffee and shower. The previous night had been fun, but it had also given me the chance to revisit a lot of pent-up feelings and thoughts about Gareth. Now, in the brightness of the morning, I missed him more. I wondered what it would have been like to wake up beside him, to have his arms around me.

  I also needed to start packing. I had a one-way ticket to Brunswick in my name, and the date was fast approaching. Thinking about Gareth wasn’t doing me any favors. I needed to pull up my socks and get down to business. It was time for me to move on with my life.

  I had exactly three more days in New York, and I had no plans. I was too depressed and too broke to even leave the apartment. My only option was to keep languishing here, packing and trying to not think about the man who didn’t want me anymore.

  Feeling sluggish and with a throbbing headache, I sat down at my computer and decided to check my emails. Not like I expected any, but there was nothing else to do.

  There was an email sitting in my inbox, which I apparently received two days ago but hadn’t checked yet. It was from an unknown email address. Feeling curious and surprised, because I barely ever received emails from anybody I didn’t know, I clicked on it.

  Dear Miss Aubrey Fort,

  I am writing to you with an interest in purchasing one of your art works. I can confirm that I have seen some of your paintings in person, and I was interested in purchasing one of them.

  Luckily for me, I found your website online, which gave me the chance to look through your portfolio in detail. I have my eye on a particular one, entitled Dog in Void.

  I can see that the price you have quoted on your website for the painting is five thousand dollars. I would like to offer you fifty thousand in order to secure the deal. My hope is that you haven’t yet sold the painting, and even if proceedings are underway, I am certain that my offer will change your mind.

  It is my wish that I remain an anonymous buyer. I would encourage you to not look into my identity as I will be adding this painting to my private collection.

  If you are willing to proceed with the sale, which I do hope you are, I will arrange for my lawyers to get in contact with you. Their offices will take care of the sale and all the details so that I can preserve my identity.

  Yours truly,

  Mr. X

  I thought I was hallucinating.

  I read the email again, and then again and again, till I had every word etched into my brain. None of this made sense. Who could have possibly seen my paintings in person and then taken the time to look for my contact details online? Who, other than Gareth?

  Why would anybody want to pay fifty thousand dollars for a painting that I wanted five thousand for?

  This had to be Gareth!

  Did he think I was so stupid as to not figure out it was him? What did he think he was going to accomplish by buying the painting?

  It was hanging in the same spot he had seen it before. In a corner of the apartment, obscurely hidden amidst some of my other works. I rushed to look at it. It was one of my early works, not one that I was particularly proud of from an artistic point of view, but one that I held very close to my heart.

  I shouldn’t have shown it to him. I shouldn’t have put it up on that stupid website!

  In a rush of emotions, I wanted to bring it down and tear it apart.

  Why was he doing this to me?

  Was this some sort of apology for treating me the way he had? Did he feel guilty for accusing me of being C Scape’s spy? I didn’t want his money. I didn’t want his fifty thousand dollars in exchange for forgiveness!

  I clutched my face in my hands, and whipping away from the painting, I paced around the apartment. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to reply to the email.

  Why couldn’t he just face me? Why did he want to remain anonymous? What had he seen in that painting that he liked so much?

  Hadn’t I made it very clear to him that I didn’t want his money? I felt cheap. I felt used. I felt like he was trying to buy my forgiveness. If he wanted me back, if he’d changed his mind, this was a real shitty way to do it. What did he think I would feel? Flattered?

  There was no way that I was going to sell the painting to him. No matter how much money he offered me for it. There was no way that I was going to allow this painting, or any of mine, to hang on his walls to be a part of his private collection.

  I wanted to cry. I wanted to fall to my knees and let out all the pent-up things I’d been feeling. I wanted him—I wanted to be with Gareth. I wanted us to have a future together. I didn’t want his money. How did he not know that I wasn’t a sellout?

  That money would have changed everything for me, but I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to take his money.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gareth

  It was a crisp Sunday morning, and I was standing at the french windows of my penthouse, looking out at the streets of Manhattan. I had a glass of orange juice in my hand. I had just finished with my workout and hadn’t changed out my sweaty clothes yet.

  My housekeeper had arranged for my routine breakfast in the dining room, but I wasn’t hungry. My shoulders were heaving. I needed to catch a breath. Heavy metal was blasting in my ears through the headphones I still had on.

  “Sir!” I heard a voice behind me. I pulled the headphones out and turned to find my housekeeper standing behind me. She must have been trying to get my attention for a while now.

  “Yes, Agatha,” I said and ran a hand through my damp hair.

  “The concierge has called up to say that there is a woman here to see you. She says her name is Aubrey Fort,” Agatha said.

  What was she doing here? It wasn’t hard to find my home address, but I hadn’t expected her to turn up here. I was more than just curious. I was excited. She was out of my life—I had made sure of that—and I thought she was go
ne for good.

  “Sir?” Agatha snapped me out of my thoughts.

  “Send her up,” I said and drained the remaining orange juice down my throat.

  Once again, it was a bad idea to see her. Every time I saw Aubrey, it felt like she was taking a piece of myself along with her when she left. But I couldn’t just send her away. I couldn’t be that cruel to her.

  I couldn’t think of what she could possibly want from me. I didn’t think she would want anything to do with me after the way I had treated her. I was too weak to refuse to see her.

  Agatha had gone away, and now I stood in the middle of my den, still in my sweaty workout clothes, waiting to see Aubrey again.

  I heard the front door open, and the sound of approaching footsteps down the hall. Agatha was showing her in.

  When I saw Aubrey, I instantly knew something was wrong. She didn’t have that gentle apologetic look that she’d had when she came to my office the other day. Today, her hair was messy, her nostrils were flared, and she had a raging anger in her eyes.

  Aubrey came into the room, looked me up and down, and then crossed her arms over her breasts. She was sexy as hell. She was every inch as desirable still as she was on that first night I saw her at the ball.

  “Nice try, Mr. X,” she said, her voice sizzling.

  I furrowed my brows and stared at her. She was wearing a pair of loose-fitting distressed jeans, with chunks of material missing from the front. She had a tight T-shirt on, which stretched over her breasts, and they shook now as she took long angry strides toward me.

  “How stupid do you think I am?” she snapped, and I put my empty glass down on the coffee table.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked her and Aubrey shook her head. Her messy red hair shook with her, and her face was turning red too with anger. My first thought was that Hunter Morgan had done something to piss her off. They weren’t the innocent boys that they had pretended to be to her. She had been tricked by them too.

  “You can drop the pretense now, Gareth. I know what you’re trying to do,” Aubrey said, gritting her teeth. She was standing in front of me now, her arms shaking a little as she spoke.

  “Well, I don’t know what I’m trying to do, and I don’t understand the Mr. X reference,” I retorted. She rolled her eyes and moved away from me.

  Quietly, she looked about the room, her eyes fixing on the view from the windows.

  “Pretty sweet digs. I’m guessing fifty thousand dollars is nothing more than pocket change for you,” she said with a scoff. There was a hardened, sour look on her face, and I tried to calm myself down so I could deal with this logically. She was clearly mad at something; I just had to figure out what it was.

  “Why are we discussing my money?” I asked her, and she snapped her head over to look at me.

  “We are discussing your money because you are offering to throw it at me, like somehow that’s going to solve everything!” She was quaking as she shouted, and I followed her with my eyes as she paced around the room. I took in a deep breath.

  “That was some time ago, Aubrey. I thought we discussed that already. Anyway, that offer is off the table now. I don’t want to buy your painting anymore,” I said. I was confused. She sounded crazy, and I hadn’t pegged her for someone who could be driven off the edge so easily. Was this just an excuse to see me again? Did she still want me as much as I wanted her?

  My gaze traveled over her body as she stood there glaring at me. She was petite and delicate, her big breasts rose and fell as she breathed heavily, her nose was stuck up in the air, and her pink juicy lips were seductively parted.

  Why was it that every time Aubrey was mad at me for some reason, I wanted her more?

  “You’re not fooling me, Gareth. I know it was you who sent me the email. For whatever reason you want to remain anonymous and own that painting of mine, and it’s not happening. You can forget about it,” she said and crossed her arms over her breasts.

  It was beginning to make some sense to me now. Someone had offered to buy her painting, and she thought it was me.

  ***

  “I am not Mr. X,” I said as calmly as I possibly could.

  Aubrey stared at me openmouthed for a couple of moments, before she shook her head and turned away from me again.

  “You need to stop lying to me, Gareth!” she snapped. I followed her, coming to a halt just behind her. I wanted to reach out and touch her, hold her shoulders, but I knew I couldn’t.

  “I am not lying to you, Aubrey. I wanted to break off all connection with you, and having one of your paintings hanging on my walls would make that recovery harder,” I said.

  She turned to look at me slowly.

  “Recovery?” she asked.

  “That is what it is, isn’t it? I’m recovering from our time spent together,” I said. Her eyes roamed over me. She was drinking in the sight of me in my gym shorts and the damp T-shirt that was clinging to my body. I was looking at her too. I knew exactly what those breasts looked like under that T-shirt. I knew the taste of her nipples, and I wanted her with every cell of my body.

  “You kicked me out of your life!” she snapped, her voice rising now. I nodded.

  “Because we can’t be together. I can’t be with someone who is related to my number one competition,” I said. Aubrey took in a deep breath and looked down at her feet.

  “So you’re not Mr. X?” she asked.

  “No, I am not, and whoever he is, he has good taste in art,” I said. Aubrey looked up at me with a jerk. There was a grin on her face now.

  “He’s offering me fifty thousand dollars for that painting you wanted,” she said, and I felt a twitch in me. I wanted that painting. I wished I could have added it to my collection, but that opportunity was lost now.

  “It’s worth a lot more. I knew it was special,” I said, and she was smiling fully now. I was smiling too. I couldn’t help myself when I saw the pleased expression on her face.

  “I don’t understand who wants to buy it. He said that he’s seen the painting in person, and then he found my website and got in touch with me. He wants to remain anonymous,” she explained, and I nodded.

  “I’m not surprised. A lot of the paintings I purchase, the ones I think are of great value, I buy them anonymously. It’s to protect the painting and to protect my identity. When the value of art rises, so do the chances of them getting stolen,” I said. Aubrey sighed and nodded.

  “Yeah, I know. I just never thought that someone would want to buy mine anonymously. I’m kind of flattered, now that I know it isn’t you,” she said and added a meek laugh.

  We were smiling at each other again. I knew she could see it in my eyes that I still had feelings for her. Something told me that she felt the same way, this deep miserable longing for someone you couldn’t have. She was standing right in front of me though, within my reach. She looked beautiful in the sunshine streaming in through the windows.

  “I’m sorry for barging in like this again!” she said, and I shook my head.

  “It’s okay. You felt offended.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t believe that you had the audacity to offer me that much money for a painting I refused to sell to you—after everything that happened between us,” she replied.

  “As much as I would like to own some of your artwork, I don’t think I can. I don’t want any more reminders of you in my life,” I said.

  Aubrey’s eyes softened as she looked at me. She had her hands clasped, and I could see her twiddling her thumbs nervously again. She bit down on her bottom lip and shied her eyes away from me.

  “It’s hard, huh?” she asked, and I nodded.

  “It’s very hard,” I said, and she smiled.

  “I’m leaving New York. Maybe that will make things easier for both of us,” Aubrey said.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stared at her in shock and confusion.

  “Don’t worry, you don’t have to feel guilty about driving me out of the city. I’m
going back to Brunswick because I can’t afford to live in New York anymore,” she explained.

  “What about the fifty thousand? If you sell the painting?” I asked, and Aubrey sighed.

  “Even so. I don’t want to just use up all that money on rent. I can use it in Brunswick instead to invest in an actual artist’s studio, maybe put up a show and try to sell more paintings,” she said. I had no other choice but to nod my head. It was a good idea. It was the right thing to do for her.

  “I’m happy for you, Aubrey,” I said and took a step toward her. She looked up at me with her lips parted and her eyelids heavy with desire.

  I couldn’t control myself. I reached for her face, holding her cheek with one hand and stroking it with my thumb. Aubrey closed her eyes for a moment, and a smile formed on her face.

  “I’m glad we met, Gareth,” she said softly.

  I took her lips into my mouth, and I heard her gasp. I couldn’t just let her leave this time without touching her. One last time. I needed to feel her skin, to taste her. My tongue parted her lips and slid into her mouth. She threw her arms around my neck, and our bodies pressed together. I could feel her breasts heaving, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

  When she pulled her lips away from mine, I could see that she wanted what I wanted. For old time’s sake.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aubrey

  Gareth swung me around and pulled me back so that I fell on his chest with a thud. He wound his arms around me, slipping one hand down the front of my jeans. I could feel his breath falling on the side of my face, on my neck and shoulders, and his warm large hand went farther and farther down.

  I gasped and tried to control my breathing. My panties were wet from my own juices, and his fingers slowly approached my throbbing pussy, past my panties. When he grazed against my folds, I cried out and pressed my eyes close.

  What was he doing to me? Why couldn’t I resist him?

  There was a burning sensation in my belly, and his finger slipped in. I cried out and clutched his muscular arms. He smelled of sweat and a musky, natural scent. I could sense that he had just worked out. His muscles were pumped, and his biceps moved strongly while his fingers did the work.