by TC Matson
I do. I really, really do.
I’ve missed the way he looks at me and the way it makes me feel. “When?”
“Well, since I did the work today, and I know you’re off, then tonight.”
I’m going to regret torturing myself. “Okay,” I agree. “Where?”
Even though I will doesn’t mean I’ll give up my address. At least I’m strong in some senses still.
“Pick me up at my place. I’ll text you the address.”
“Wait. I’m picking you up?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s the least you can do after my strenuous moving day.” He stretches his neck from shoulder to shoulder.
I laugh. Fine. Two can play this game. “If I’m picking you up, I’m paying.”
The humor in his eyes laughs at me. “I don’t think so.”
“Then I’m not going,” I reply defiantly.
His grin doubles in size. “I’ll be ready around seven.”
He kisses my cheek and sprints down the stairs toward his SUV.
“I’m paying!” I call out after him.
He turns, walking backward and gives me the sexiest wink before disappearing behind the tint on his windows.
Why do I feel like I just made a deal with the sexiest devil ever?
SEVENTEEN
Sixty forty-five and I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner. I pull two wine glasses out and pour the wine I picked up from the store after leaving her this morning.
I had to trick Brooklyn into a date and make her think we’d be in a public place. Otherwise, she’d never give me a chance to explain myself. I’m more eager than I am nervous. I’m pretty sure I know how this will play out. If I was a betting man, I’d place my bet on her attitude bursting like lava from a volcano. But I’m also betting she’ll stay.
I can be exceptionally persuasive.
A knock on the door has a smile pulling my lips. She’s in skin tight black leggings, a white shirt with a denim jacket and a large knitted scarf that I’m positive is for accessory only since it’s nearly eighty degrees outside. Jesus, she’s gorgeous.
Her beautiful eyes examine me, slowly lowering down my chest and abs to my jeans and then to my bare feet. She snaps her view to mine. “You said seven. Right?”
“I did,” I state simply. “Come in.”
“Then why aren’t you ready?” The attitude in her voice makes me grin.
“Actually, I am.” I push off the door and clutch her hand, leading her into the house. And just as I expected, when she spots my dining room table holding our wine with a candle in the middle, she stops and jerks her hand out of mine.
“What is this?” she spits, sounding disgusted.
“You wouldn’t let me pay.”
She rocks back on her heel, shoving a hand on her hip. “You said I owe you.”
“A meal,” I agree. “I never specified you paying for said meal or where it would be.” I spread my arm toward the table. “So. This would be the meal you owe me.”
Closing her eyes, she whispers under her breath. “Jesus, why are you so difficult?”
I pick up the glass of wine and offer it to her. “Not my fault you assumed wrong.”
I can see it in her face just how hard she’s trying to be strong and not show emotions. But anger swirls in with the browns as reverence pools at her pupils. Taking the glass, she takes a sip and I know she broke.
She looks around. “I pictured you living in something over the top. Gold. Marble. Granite. Diamond studded.” She takes another small sip from her glass. “This is far from it.”
“I don’t need extravagance.”
Dropping her head back, she laughs. “This isn’t extravagant? Hate to see what you’d think my house is.”
My brow lifts. “Is that an invitation?”
“Not at all.”
I move into the kitchen and pull the steak and lobster from the oven where I put them to keep warm. I plate it, scooping some scalloped potatoes beside the steak and placing it on the table. Pulling out the seat, I tip my head for her to join me. She hesitates for a moment, an internal war crossing her expression before finally sitting.
Snatching my wine off the kitchen counter, I join her across the table.
“Nathan. I don’t—”
“I slaved, so eat,” I jest.
She looks to the food. “You cooked this?”
“I’m a master of all trades.”
She spreads her napkin into her lap and then reaches for her wine glass, never lifting it. Instead, she narrows her eyes, spinning the flute between her fingers. “What else is there?”
I know what she’s asking and why. But right now isn’t the time. “After our meal, we can talk about whatever you want. I’ll answer anything. For now, I want to enjoy the meal you owe me.”
She takes a breath. She’s tense as she eats, her muscles stiff. Our conversation is light, but the air around us is thick, so I try to loosen her up with what we do best—speed date.
“What do you do to wake yourself up in the morning?” I ask.
She knows what I’m doing and casts an appreciative glance to me from under her lashes. “Well, I wash my face with cold water and have coffee. You?”
Her not fighting this causes relief to pull my lips up. “Shower. What do you do for lunch?”
“There’s a picnic table behind the pharmacy. It sits under a large oak tree. That’s what I do. Sit there. Get away from people and normally am on the phone with Aimee and Shyla. You?”
“Normally, I eat on the go or nothing at all.” Quick to change the subject, I ask, “What’s your favorite season?”
“Spring. That’s when Mother Nature breathes life back into the beauties of our city.” She sighs. “Why are we speed dating again?”
I swallow the bite of food. “You’re rigid and I’m trying to loosen you up.”
She wipes her mouth and then pushes her chair back, picking up her plate. As she starts toward the kitchen, I jerk to my feet, intervening and taking the plate from her hand. I empty the small amount of remnants into the trash before depositing the plate in the sink.
Spinning around to see her studying me, I drop my hip to the counter and cross my arms over my chest.
It’s a standoff in the middle of my kitchen.
“What’s your game, Nathan? Why all this?” She waves her hand back to the table.
“I told you. You owed me a meal,” I state nonchalantly.
She inhales and then pinches the space between her brows.
Guess now is better than never…
“Because I like you. And I want a do over. I want to show you that who I am is the same guy you really like,” I say. “There’s no difference in the person I am versus my name.”
Her head shakes before she drops her hands to her side, exasperation in her expression. “You didn’t trust me to begin with. Therefore, we were on much different levels. Why start now?”
As I move in front of her, close enough to feel the heat from her body, she looks me in the eyes. That’s something else I admire about her—the strength in her confidence.
“I haven’t dated because I’m a busy man and I’m more focused on my business. I’ve learned over the years that my money attracts more women than my eyes,” I admit.
“I knew nothing of your money and only your eyes,” she replies a little breathlessly, clearly affected at my proximity. “I liked you for you.”
“Since I’ve become successful, widely known for my net worth and dubbed Dallas’ sexiest bachelor, the only women I have met are the ones who enjoy trying to exploit my money.”
“I never gave you a reason to think I would be one of them.”
“True.”
“And yet you treated me like the rest. I was real and honest from the start while you hid everything except your personality. You never had faith in me.”
The sadness in her eyes squeezes something in my chest. “I’m man enough to admit I made a mistake. I knew the night we went bowling
you were different, but it didn’t stop me from worrying. I should’ve listened to my gut,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Brooklyn. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Dipping my head, I place a kiss at the corner of her lips. Her breath snags, her mouth parting as she sucks in a small gasp. I wrap my fingers around her hips and pull her in closer, nestling my face into the crook of her neck. She smells divine, a sexy scent of warm vanilla and spices. Cinnamon maybe. I run my lips over her sensitive skin and she tilts slightly, giving me better access with a small sigh. The sound is so sweet it travels the length of my dick.
Gently, I bite her neck before placing a kiss to the spot just below her ear. “Let me show you,” I whisper thickly against her skin as I weave my fingers through her hair and twist gently to hold her steady. Searching her eyes, I silently ask for permission to taste her lips. She drags her hands up my sides, over my chest, and around my neck, pulling me in. As I crash into her mouth, claiming it, our tongues sweep together, erotically dancing. I flex my hips into her, pushing my rock-solid dick into her core, and swallow her little moan.
Our kiss teeters on the verge of desperate and starving. Our breaths become labored as our hands become frantic to feel one another. Finding the hem of her shirt, I slip my hand up the smooth skin of her stomach and drag my fingers around her waist.
She feels right in my hands. Perfect against my body. And downright spectacular on my mouth.
Dipping my hand under her waist band, I slide my fingers over her slick folds and instantly she breaks the kiss, dropping her head back. I press a finger into her tight, slick heat and she sucks in a sharp breath.
“Fuck, Brooklyn,” I curse, dragging my fingers in and out of her.
Her hips rock against my hand. Her fingers dig into my biceps. Her skin has flushed, a sexy pink spreading up her neck and onto her cheeks. Fuck she’s gorgeous.
Using my thumb, I circle her clit and her body instantly reacts, jerking against the friction. She’s panting and I pump faster. The urge to take her to my room and fuck her hits me hard as my cock throbs to feel her.
“I’m not going to fuck you tonight. I’m giving you a reason to come back,” I rasp thickly…a reminder for myself that the plan isn’t to have her in the bed tonight.
Her pussy begins to pulse. “I’m…”
I can’t help my smirk as I twist her hair tighter between my fingers, bringing her mouth to mine. The kiss is sloppy, heated, and downright fucking sexy when her moans become louder. Her body begins to tremble and she digs her fingers into my skin. Her pussy tightens around my fingers and I pump them harder…deeper, sending her off the ledge.
She comes on my hand, rocking feverishly while deeply arching her back. Holy shit is she a sight. Her mewls are quiet, her mouth parted.
When she slows, I nibble on the side of her neck. She’s still panting as I pull my hand out and give her a small kiss. I don’t fight my grin. “That was fucking incredible.”
With her eyes shut, chagrin creeps over her face and she rolls her head forward. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Fuck my plan. “Stay with me tonight.”
Her head shakes before she voices it. “No.”
“When’s your next day off?”
It’s as if my question slaps her back to reality. She straightens her shirt and smooths down her hair. “This isn’t going to happen, Nathan. That was a slipup.”
I chuckle and plant a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’ll have you in my bed, Brooklyn. Sooner or later, you’ll be there.”
Agitation is in her gaze and I can’t help but wonder if she’s pissed she enjoyed it so much or if she’s mad she’s still fighting it. “Don’t be so sure of yourself.”
I arch my brow. “I call it as I see it.”
“I need to go.” Panic is hidden in her voice.
“Stay with me,” I try again.
Panic gives way to anger. Her volcano begins to erupt. She jams her finger in my chest. “Screw you. You think you can come back and screw me up by giving me an orgasm and I fall to your feet? Forget it. Goodbye, Nathan.”
She yanks her purse from the chair and storms out. Although I deserved it, that didn’t go quite as planned.
EIGHTEEN
I feel lighter today, no thanks to my inner slut, and all the thanks to Nathan’s fabulous fingers. I couldn’t fight the pull, the potent chemistry that attracts me to him. The moment his lips hit my skin, I was done, waving the white flag in the air. I had craved to feel him since the night we kissed.
Except, I want nothing to do with him. Clearly, my mouth and body are on opposite sides of the spectrum.
I’ve been at war with myself all day. Work has been a blur. When thoughts of Nathan creep in, I try forcing myself to think of something else—anything else but him. Did you know if you replace the “w” with a “t” in what, where, and when you’d actually have the answers? Does a cat ever wonder why you don’t lick yourself? Are dogs only man’s best friend and not woman’s?
Yep. That’s what I’ve been thinking about, besides all the motivational quotes on the walls. But even those swing it back to Nathan.
Don’t wait for the opportunity. Create it.
If you can’t stop thinking about it, don’t stop working for it.
Sigh…
Parking my ass at the end of the picnic table bench, I close my eyes and take a few breaths of fresh air. I’ve got to get myself together. I decide to call and check on Aimee since she took a few days extra off work.
“Hey, girl,” she answers, sounding…cheerful?
“Hey. How are you feeling?” I ask.
“At this very moment, I’m great. The next hour may present a different emotion though. I’ve been all over the place from hating the cocksucker to fighting myself to not call him and cry into the phone.”
I never told her what William and I talked about the day he moved out. I didn’t see the point in confusing her shattered heart even worse. I mean, how can a man be so sad over something he caused on purpose?
“Ah, heartbreak and the emotions that come with it. I hate love.”
She giggles. “I don’t hate love, but I do hate William. Funny how easily the line between love and hate is so thin. So, what’s up with you and Nathan. I overheard you telling Shyla you had a date with him yesterday?”
“I don’t want to discuss that with you while you’re going through—”
“Just because my heart is broken doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about someone getting into yours. I’m mature enough to know life goes on. I’m okay. Really, I am,” she reassures me.
I take a slow swallow of my water. “For starters, he tricked me. I assumed I was taking him out to eat, but turns out he cooked and we ate at his place. It was premeditated.”
My stomach flutters remembering how romantic is was. Dammit.
“Did you two talk things out?”
“You really like him. Don’t you?”
“From what you’ve told us about him, yeah. Other than the doucheness he’s pulled. But since you’ve met him, you’ve been a different happy.”
“Up until I learned he couldn’t be upfront with me because he didn’t trust me. It felt like a betrayal. I get why he did it, but since I was on the receiving end of the deceit, it hurts.”
“Did he get to explain himself?”
“Yes. He apologized, admitted he made a mistake and then gave me an orgasm,” I say.
“Wait. Back up. I don’t think I heard you right. Did you say he gave you an orgasm? Did you two…”
I shake my head grinning like a fool. “No, but let’s just say his fingers are magical.”
“Yes!” she squeals. “I bet you feel like a million bucks now. It’s been what? Years? You’re probably a virgin again by now.”
I blow a laugh under my breath. “It has not been years and I really hope you know that’s not how virginity works. I do feel like a million bucks, but it was a mistake and it won’t happen again. We’re two diffe
rent people, on two different levels, living two completely opposite lives.”
She sighs a frustrated breath. “You can ruin a wet dream. Why are you fighting it? Enjoy the ride.”
“I know better. It’ll end in heartache because he’s too easy to fall for. Think about it, Aimee. I had a heartache for a week when I found out he didn’t believe I was trustworthy.”
“Ugh!” she groans. “You’ve always been the one with emotional strings attached to your va-jayjay. You were the sensible one while Shyla and I totally whored around.”
“You two were not whores,” I crack up.
“Brooklyn. While your nose was in books, mine was in a pillow with my ass in the air. From seventeen until William, I knew if I set foot in a church I’d spontaneously burst into flames from my debauchery.” She giggles at her joke. “So yes. You were the smart good girl and I was the whore. We won’t start on Shyla since she’s not here to add perfect detail.”
I’d argue with her, but she’s telling the truth. Those two weren’t the nasty sluts roaming the hallways at school to pounce on your boyfriend, but they didn’t mind jumping into bed with different guys. They were like catholic school girls—innocent on the outside, wild on the inside. They worked, were A and B students, but damn if they didn’t like to party.
“I’m glad I grew out of that,” she continues. “And lucky I didn’t end up with some STD or a baby…or both! I was such an idiot high on dick. Anyway. Why not give Nathan a do over? See what he’s about because opposites attract and all that fancy jazz.”
Instinctively, I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. We’ll see. I have to go, though, lunch is over. I’ll call you when I get home. Love you.”
“Love you.”
* * *
The rest of the day was pretty easy and there weren’t a lot of orders today…oddly. After work, I came home, ate, showered, and curled up into my lounger with my e-reader to help get rid of the thoughts of Nathan.
The sun set hours ago and the night sky fell around me. Songs from birds were replaced with a love song by a toad in the distance. Nathan’s name on my phone causes my heart to race.