I have to let it go, though. Clinging to impossible hope only leads to disappointment. I’m not worried, however. I may be lost in the possibility now, but I’m very good at acceptance. I just need time. So many people take my acceptance of pain and loss as a weakness, but I look past all the setbacks and insults and pain and keep moving forward. That’s how I get through life. I keep moving, ever always forward.
I start my reps. I’m in good shape and strong, even though my body refuses to go along and look like I’m either of those things. I finish just as I see him enter. He looks stern, almost angry. He scans the gym. There are only a handful of us in the room, and he stops when he sees me. He pauses like he wants to leave, and that’s when I realize he is hoping to avoid me.
The thought devastates me. He wants to work out. He just doesn’t want to work out in my presence. He’s not only moved on, he’s actively trying to avoid me. As he’s standing there, my heart drops as the awful moment gets worse: Cody and Parsons from Central walk in past the stranger, and they immediately see me.
“Look, Cody, it’s the rookie.”
“Good idea working on your legs, Benson,” Cody says with a sneer. “Your chest is plenty big enough.” Parsons snickers and shoves Cody in the shoulder.
“Not that anyone would actually want to see your tits.”
I stand up, which doesn’t stop either of them. They stride over all full of arrogance and bravado, intent on unleashing maximum embarrassment in front of an audience.
“Fuck off,” is the only response I come up with.
“No thanks,” Cody replies.
“Yeah, we have standards,” Parsons adds, which elicits more laughs from the two of them.
I go to turn away, thinking that just ignoring the assholes will make them leave me alone. Instead, Cody grabs my arm. I pull out of his grip and spin around. “Look, asshole, do not touch me.”
He stares at me and then takes a slow step back. “You should be thanking me, Benson. That’s the only touch you’ll ever get from a guy.”
I think about the night before and smile. That reminds me that the stranger is near the door, and when I look over, I see him still standing there, his arms crossed, the anger on his face is clear. My smile turns into a frown. Great, he’ll never talk to me again now.
Parsons seems confused by my reaction, but not for long. “Here’s some advice, Benson, just because people think that cops eat a lot of donuts doesn’t mean that you actually have to eat a lot of donuts.”
“Fuck you,” I reply, and as I turn away, I catch another glimpse of the handsome stranger. He is staring at me, looking so judgmental that it practically breaks me. I grab my workout towel and walk off to the locker room and some peace.
When the door to the locker room closes behind me, I start to cry. So many emotions collide within me—happiness over the night before, anger over being verbally harassed and embarrassment over not saying the right thing when it happened, and, more than anything, a deep sadness over my handsome stranger seeing me as someone to avoid and then watching as I illustrated exactly why he should avoid me.
Why do the other cops have to be so cruel? I never did anything to earn their venom and spite. Why did the handsome stranger have to be here tonight? Couldn’t he give me a few days to live the fantasy of his interest?
I strip out of my clothes and walk into the shower, turning the water as hot as it will go. With each stinging drop, I try to burn the previous ten minutes from my memory.
If only I had been alone with the handsome stranger. I picture him standing there, his cut body almost naked, his cock pressed against the thin material of his shorts. Maybe—just maybe—I could have renewed his interest in me.
I take a deep breath and walk through that fantasy, thinking of all the things I would do to him to show him how much he would miss without me. As the water massages my skin, I’m glad that I can think of something better than the humiliation I had just experienced, but I’m sad knowing that I am just creating another unattainable fantasy.
Guys like that had no interest in a girl like me, other than as a convenient fuck.
DIRK
* * *
The moment I see her I know it was a bad idea coming back in the evening. I see her face, it brightens with a quick smile, and I know that she wants something I can’t give her. But I can’t stop from staring at her. Her hair is in a pony tail again, her smile has the glimmer of a dimple, and I see what I experienced last night—a hot body with curves that just scream sex, and an innocent face that hides a bottled up desperation to use that body with the right guy, and I know that guy is me.
I am yearning to fuck her again. And again. And again.
She swings her leg over the machine, and I want to take her right then and there. It is the way she moves. She not only has an insanely hot body, she uses it with a focused intent. I think of how she used her ass to stroke my cock. She knew exactly what she was doing, and that thought drives me crazy. I cross my arms and steel myself to just leave.
That’s when the two knucklehead cops walk in.
They see my girl, but while I see barely contained raw sex in her, they see a target. As they talk, I learn that she is a rookie cop. The two older cops are giving her a hard time. She is not dealing with it well, and I consider stepping in, especially when they start insulting her about her weight. She lowers her head, and the fact she is tacitly believing them enrages me.
Before I can do anything, my girl marches off to the locker room. I walk over to the two assholes as they are laughing and chatting.
“You know, I’m trying to figure out what your goal is here.” I look at the Parsons guy. I had assessed him as the follower and a weak link in their idiotic chain of bravado.
“Excuse me?” He turns to look at me, a kind of restrained anger in his eyes. He looks like he wants a confrontation. Okay, then.
“Well, you’re sitting here insulting and harassing a young woman. That means you’re either an asshole or you were trying to drive her away so you can be alone with your boyfriend here.”
There was a moment of silence that just fills the room. I love it.
Finally, he replies, his voice slightly tinged with uncertainty. “Are you calling me gay?”
“Well, of the two, it’s the preferable option.”
Cody walks right over and gets in my face. “Look, asshole, why don’t you just take a shower. We’re both cops, and it wouldn’t be hard to find some reason to drag you to the precinct.”
I laugh in his face, and he looks confused. “So let me get this straight. You harass a co-worker, and then you hide your tiny dicks behind your badge.”
Cody looks like he is going to explode. “Another word, and I’m hauling you off in handcuffs.” I just smile. “What’s so funny?” He looks even more confused. I know his type all too well. He has his go-to threat, and when that doesn’t work, he is lost.
“Let me put it this way. I really want you to haul me off in handcuffs.”
Cody looks over at Parsons, and as I glance at Parsons, it is clear that he recognizes me. He has this deer in the headlights look.
“You’re… Dirk St. James,” Parsons says, a touch of awe in his voice.
I shrug. “That’s what it says on my driver’s license.”
Cody backs up a step and turns to me. “What the hell are you doing in the Dumbbell? You’re a billionaire. I mean, this place is a dump.”
I’ve seen it again and again. The asshole confronts me, and the moment he realizes that I’m that billionaire guy he had heard of, the attitude changes to awe and curiosity and sometimes even fawning adoration.
I look around the gym. “Let me give you some advice, officer: Joy isn’t found in a field of flowers. Joy is created in plot of dirt.”
Officer Cody gives me yet another confused look, and then frowns. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means he’s so rich that he can be happy anywhere, even a dump like this,” Parsons replies.
/> They both look at me, and I shrug. “Close enough.” The girl is still in the locker room, and I need to find out who she is. I know I’m the absolute worst thing that could happen to her, but I can’t help myself. I need to unleash her passion.
“Another bit of advice.” The two idiots keep quiet and are totally into my billionaire brilliance. “If you want to get ahead, treat everyone well. You never know when they can help you.” I nod toward the locker room.
Cody shrugs. “We were just teasing her. You know, giving her a hard time. We all do it to each other.”
I nod. “Here’s my final bit of advice: Learn how to read the fucking room.” They look oblivious, although it is amusing how they hang on every one of my words. “Okay, lesson time is over.” I nod my head at them. “Officers.”
The two glance at each other and then walk off without saying anything else. I turn and walk to the entryway. I take a seat in one of the plastic folding chairs.
And wait.
JILL
* * *
I take an absurdly long shower. As usual, I’m the only woman in the gym, so I’m thankfully alone. The hot water does wonders, and slowly my embarrassment fades and is replaced by the image of the stranger from the night before, standing without a shirt and his shorts hiding very little. As the water streams down my body, I have trouble stopping from touching myself while thinking of him. I haven’t felt so full of raw desire in ages.
I look up at the nozzle of the shower, hoping my sexual frustration will get overwhelmed by hot water stinging my face. It doesn’t.
It is late, but Sal, the manager, gives all the night owls a key. Last one out locks the door. I am often the last one in the gym, so I turn out the lights and straighten things up for Sal, which he appreciates. Tonight, however, I just want to go home and forget everything. I am mad. I am horny. I am upset over being harassed. I am upset over yearning for a man I can never have.
I snap the gym lights off, and walk into the entryway. I’m not paying attention, and I’m halfway to the door before I realize a man is sitting in one of the plastic folding chairs that line the small room. I jump back and would have reached for my firearm if I had been in uniform. My heart is beating hard when I finally got a good look him.
It is the sexy stranger.
“You know, you handled that all wrong.”
“Wha… I… Why…” I stammer, completely flustered. He has a t-shirt on, but otherwise looks exactly the same as the night before. The same incredibly hot chiseled guy I know is out of my league.
“You have to stop replying with ‘fuck you.’ Eighth graders say that.” He stands up, and his eyes are intense as he stares at me. “When they joked about your chest, you should have said something like, ‘I know you want to see them, but that ain’t happening.’”
“But—” He completely ignores my interruption.
“And when he grabbed you, you should have talked about how that’s the only way he’ll ever touch a woman. Play into his insecurities.”
Everything the man says rings true, but he doesn’t understand how hard it is being me. “It’s not that easy,” I reply.
“Sure it is. You just need to be confident.” He walks over to me, and I can’t help but stare. “The winner of every confrontation like that is the one that knows how to exploit the insecurities of the other side.” He is close enough to me that I can smell him. “So— What are those two assholes afraid of?”
“Um… ” I freeze, completely uncertain how to reply. I look at him, and he has that same look on his face, like he’s mad at me. “I don’t know!” I finally reply in frustration.
His face softens as he runs a hand through his hair. “Just remember that whenever they attack you, it is an attempt to cover up their own weakness. They insulted you for being a rookie. That means they are insecure about their own position. Next time say something like, ‘How’s the meter maid beat? Did you remember to wear your bulletproof vest in case someone gets mad over being twenty cents short on their parking?’”
I smile. His comment really is perfect. Cody and Parsons would go crazy if I joked about them being on a lame beat. “That’s good,” I say while I nod my head.
“And they’re insulting your body because they’re assholes and can’t get laid. So let them know that.” He smiles and adds, “but be more creative.”
He is standing there, the anger gone from his face. He is smiling but still looks a little formal or cold. I feel so awkward around him, and the fact that he is waiting for me to say anything just makes it worse. I stick out my hand. “My name’s Jill.”
“Jill Benson,” he states, shaking my hand with a firm grip. I realize how completely absurd it is that I offered him my hand. He had fucked me on a weight bench the night before, and now I was shaking his hand? I want to crawl away.
“Yeah,” I answer, thinking of how Cody and Parsons had already revealed my last name.
The man stares at me long enough that I find it rude and a little uncomfortable. As I glance up at him I see indecision in his eyes, as if he is debating what to say. Finally, he turns away, and my heart skips a beat as I feel devastation envelop me. I introduced myself, and the handsome stranger with the sexy body is leaving without saying anything. Who could blame him after I shook his freakin’ hand?
He reaches down and grabs a bag from the floor next to the chair where he was sitting. He turns back to me, unzips the bag, and reaches inside. That’s when a surge of relief flows through me—he isn’t leaving. He is looking for something.
He pulls out a card and hands it to me. “Call me.” He says the words as a simple statement, but the commanding nature of his voice make it clear—it isn’t a request. I’m full of questions, but before I can ask one he has turned and is already striding toward the door.
I slide the card into my gym bag, not even looking at it. I’m already tingling as I think of being together with him again, but there are tons of alarms screaming in my brain. He never introduced himself. He left in a hurry, just like he did the night before. He helped me, but he seemed angry that he had to explain how to handle bullies, and his attitude as he did so was kind of insulting. Also, he just sat there and watched. He could have at least said something to Cody and Parsons.
As much as I want to fuck the man again, I am tired of assholes, and the jury is still out on this guy. Maybe I’ll look at his card and call him the next day.
Maybe I won’t.
DIRK
* * *
I leave before I do something stupid. As she stood there uncertain and tentative I wanted to just kiss her hard and then rip her clothes off. What is killing me is that the same reason I want fuck her is the reason I should stay away from her—She’s all “fuck me harder” on the inside, but to get to that I have to get past her innocent and sensitive outside.
Maybe that’s why I gave her my business card. She’ll be able to find out who I am. She’ll see the news items, the photos, the history. Then it’s entirely up to her. If she follows me to a place she shouldn’t go is that then my fault?
I climb into my Tesla, wondering if she’ll call me.
JILL
* * *
It’s two days later, and I haven’t thought much about the hot stranger and our one night stand. It’s not that I’ve forgotten him. In many ways it’s worse. At night when I finally can relax I think about how I’d like to see him and feel him again, how I want to believe the fantasy of passion leading to a long romance.
Thankfully, I’ve been extremely busy with learning a new beat after being transferred to a new partner. This happens regularly with rookies, as you are moved to various neighborhoods to get a sense of the city and what is needed. Whenever that happens you kind of hope that you won’t be paired with an asshole, but you never know.
The previous cop I was with was chill, so I’m hoping that Dan, my new partner, will be just as laid back as my previous one. He’s assigned a pretty dangerous section of the city, so while Dan isn’t an assho
le, he is incredibly nervous about me, almost protective.
Dan treating me like a child is annoying, but it at least keeps my mind off the business card sitting in a drawer back in my apartment. I still haven’t looked at it, and the stranger hasn’t shown up at the Dumbbell since he handed it to me. I’m torn. I want to call him. I want to know what it’s like to have his cock in my mouth. I want him under me as I ride him, with me running my hands over his six pack while I watch his gorgeous face twist in pleasure. I’ve already masturbated twice about how the moment could go. And, if I’m honest, I fantasize about romantic dates leading to those hot moments.
Those romantic moments are what fill me with uncertainty. I’m not sure I’m up to be some arrogant prick’s booty call, as incredible as it may be to experience. The fact he doesn’t show up at the gym at least clarifies things for me—he’s done chasing me. He expects me to grovel back to him in a way that will put me in my place.
But then Sergeant Groban calls me into his office.
DIRK
* * *
Look, I’m an asshole. It’s unavoidable when you specialize in turning around distressed companies. Someone had to be the asshole, and that is me. I don’t particularly enjoy being the asshole, and I do my best to treat the people I lay off or force into retirement with respect. I like to think I bring some humanity to the way I deliver the message. But, in the end, I will always be the asshole.
So don’t be surprised by what I am planning. Sometimes when I want someone, and I can’t convince her that what I want is what she wants, well, I have to push a little.
JILL
Stolen: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Heists & Hearts Book 1) Page 2