Irresistibly Undeniable

by Zoey Derrick

  One o’clock rolls around and Andy strolls in, this time he’s holding a vase with two roses of the same color as the last ones and he is shaking his head.

  “I’m beginning to wonder who you pissed off, boss.”

  I laugh, “No one, at least not that I know of.”

  “Or not yet.” He smirks and sets down the vase on my desk and I pluck the card from the stand and open it.

  Stuck-up Three Thousand Dollar Suit Wearing Pencil Dick.

  “Oh sweetheart, it’s far from a pencil.” I snicker as I add the card to the growing pile and move the new vase to the credenza along my wall.

  I go back to work, but I eagerly await the chime for the next hour to roll around and what exactly Ms. Tigress has in store for me next.

  Ireland

  I knew he’d caught on to my game when each hour more deliveries showed up at my door.

  The next bouquet of a half dozen yellow rose showed up at noon. The card simply said:

  Say. My. Name.

  The next one came at one, this one a bouquet of pink roses and it said:

  I can make you scream my name.

  The one after that was a dozen purple roses at two o’clock which said:

  And it won’t be in anger either.

  I knew exactly what he was implying because this little game of ours was turning me on like nobody’s business.

  The last delivery came at three. Two dozen long-stemmed red roses with a card that nearly had me reaching for my vibrator:

  It will be while my mouth is buried in that sweet pussy of yours.

  Dyson

  Four o’clock rolls around and Andy dutifully brings me my next delivery. This time instead of black roses, he’s carrying a bouquet of a dozen white ones. A show of surrender?

  My eyes wander back to my credenza and the array of black sitting on top of it. I shake my head remembering the two o’clock card that said,

  Manwhore.

  That was followed up by the three o’clock card:

  Arrogant Fuckwad.

  So the white roses are a surprise. I deserve to be called every one of these things, in fact, I probably deserved far worse, but I’m not ready to give up trying to get her to say my name. Each of the cards I’d sent got a little sweeter and little sexier, a little more poignant. But make no mistake, I mean every word.

  Andy leaves my office after setting them down and I find the card quickly, pulling it off the stick and flipping it over. There is only one word written on the card. It’s the only word I’ve wanted to see all day.

  Dyson.

  She did it, she said my fucking name. Okay, fine, she wrote it, but none the less, she said it and I am smiling from ear to ear when Shelly walks into my office.

  Chapter 15

  Dyson

  “Down” - Jason Walker

  “Well, that’s certainly a different sight to see,” she teases as she takes in my huge smile. “Uh… who sends someone black roses?” she asks, taking in the sight on the credenza of the black roses Ireland has sent me today.

  “Someone you’ve severely pissed off,” I tell her while putting the card on the stack with the others and I move the roses to the side of my desk where they can stay. I’ll have Andy dispose of the black ones later.

  She snorts a laugh. “Well, obviously you didn’t piss them off that much if they’re sending you roses.”

  “Hardly. Now, what can I do for you?”

  “I just came up to let you know that Ireland will be getting a phone call in the next hour. Her tests came back fine and we’re going to start her on Monday. Are you going to throw a hissy fit about her being hired?”

  “Yes,” I state simply.

  “Care to explain why?”

  “Not really.” No need to let her in on the fact that once Ireland becomes a Wellington employee, the fraternization policy goes into effect and she can no longer date me. At least if she wants to keep her job. I curse internally, but even that’s not going to stop me. I’ve had a taste and I need more.

  “On second thought, no. Hire her. If she doesn’t work out, you’ll fire her and life can go on as it was.”

  She glares at me. “You’ve got something up your sleeve when it comes to this girl, don’t you?”

  I put my hands up in surrender. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Bullshit, Dyson, I’ve known you for a long time, and you never give in this easily.”

  She calls my bluff, but I don’t back down. Let Ireland start her job, I’ll continue to meddle with her anyway I want to and eventually Wellington will have no choice but to fire her for violating the no fraternization policy. It’s a win, win. I get the girl to work for me and the girl I’ve dreamed about for more than ten years.

  “Whatever, but I will tell you Wellington is quite fond of her already and he barely knows her.” I can’t stop the growl that escapes but she doesn’t seem to notice. “I think it is going to take a lot more than whatever you have up your sleeve to get her fired.” She tosses a file on my desk. “There’s the information you wanted.”

  I don’t need to tell her I already figured it out. I asked for it under the guise of wanting Tigress to run its own background check. Though she’d glared at me about it, she didn’t argue. It would have been strange if I hadn’t done the same with every employee of Wellington that works on Tigress related items.

  “Thank you,” I tell her but I don’t pick up the folder. “Anything else?”

  She places her hands on my desk and leans forward, showing off a little bit of cleavage in the process, not that she has much to show off in the first place. “Dinner, tonight?”

  I suppress my annoyance and simply shake my head. “Not tonight, not ever.”

  Her hopeful face falls and she straightens up. “You’ll regret it.”

  No, sweetheart, I regret ever giving you the impression I wanted dinner with you. “Hardly,” I state and with that she strolls out of my office. There is an extra sway in her hips as she does, trying in vain to show me something she truly doesn’t have to show off.

  The image of Ireland’s ass as it walked away from me last night is something burned in my brain and no one will ever compare to her.

  Chapter 16

  IRELAND

  “Walk Into This Room” - Edward Kowalczyk And Neneh Cherry

  Five o’clock rolls around and two things happen at once. My cell phone starts to ring and the door buzzes. On my way to the door, I grab my phone and look at the number. It’s a downtown number and I panic briefly thinking it’s Dyson calling me. I almost ignore it, but then I think about Wellington and slide to answer it.

  “Hello?” I say with some hesitation, bracing myself in case it’s him on the other end of the line.

  “Ireland, hi, this is Cara from Wellington Ad Management.” The HR rep. Disappointment slides through me that it’s not Dyson.

  “Hi Cara,” I say as I walk toward the door and the next delivery from Mister stuck-up, good for nothing but making me crazy, Cole. “It’s great to hear from you. I hope you have good news for me?” I ask.

  “I do. Everything in your background came back clean.” Duh. “And your drug screening is perfect. I’m calling to see if you can start next week Monday?”

  My mouth falls open as the person at the door bypasses the buzzer and the knock comes through the door. “So soon?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, no, not at all.” I open the door and I’d expected to see the delivery gal that has been delivering my flowers all day, but instead I am met with another two or maybe three dozen long-stemmed red roses and Dyson ‘fucking’ Cole.

  I fight the urge to slam the door in his face, but he sees I’m on the phone and steps into my apartment. Fucker.

  “Next Monday would be wonderful, Cara, I just have one quick question.”

  “Anything?”

  I watch Dyson out of the corner of my eye as I ask the question that’s been bugging me for almost a week. “
The amount of pay, on my offer letter, that isn’t a misprint, is it?” I ask.

  “I can double check, but is it too low? I can talk to Shelly about…”

  “No. Jesus, more money? My eyes flare wide in surprise and I ignore Dyson. “Not at all, but it is way more than I was expecting, so I just wanted to make sure.”

  She laughs on the other end of the phone and Dyson is staring at me with his eyebrows raised. “Nope, it’s accurate, I assure you.”

  “Okay then,” I say with a smile, though I turn away from Dyson.

  Cara goes over a couple things about dress code. Fuck, I need to go shopping. Then she tells me to be at the security desk at seven-thirty Monday morning. They will set me up with a security badge and I’m supposed to bring the remaining paperwork with me. Meanwhile, Dickhead is making himself comfortable on my couch, looking around my apartment like he’s trying to gauge something I’m not grasping or he’s just trying to get a read on me. My frantic attempts at ignoring all thoughts of Dyson and my mother have left the apartment absolutely spotless.

  Finally, after another minute or so Cara and I end our call. I lock my phone and say, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  He smirks at me. “I figured I owed you your last bouquet of roses from my hands.” He stands and stalks toward me in a way that makes my panties melt. “And, I wanted to hear you say my name in person.”

  “This couldn’t have waited until Monday?” I scowl at him.

  He shakes his head. “After the torture you’ve put me through all day with the name calling, I thought you owed me something.”

  “I owe you nothing, Mr. Cole.” I tack his name on at the end just to watch his eyes flare in frustration.

  Jesus, he’s fucking gorgeous. He’s ditched the tie to his suit, the jacket too. He’s wearing a fitted charcoal grey dress shirt, open at the top, still tucked into his dress slacks and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

  “On the contrary, tigress, you owe me a chance to explain myself.”

  Tigress? Where…

  I take a step back from him, trying to ruffle my way through the thoughts roaming in my head. “How many women have you called tigress?” I ask in almost a whisper.

  “None but you,” he says with a cocky confidence that shouldn’t surprise me in the least.

  “Then why is your company called Tigress?” I ask, but the voice that comes out is barely audible to my ears.

  “Why do you think?” he asks with an insulted look, as if I should know the answer to his question.

  I take another step back and he stops stalking toward me. I bump into the kitchen island currently holding all the roses he’s sent me and the ones that my mother sent last week. The force rattles the vases and it draws his attention to the array. When he gets to the white and purple ones from my mother he narrows his eyes. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “What? No. Why…” The shock I feel at his question is surprising. Why would he think I have a boyfriend? I follow his line of sight to the roses and my shoulders slump, my fight leaves me. “They’re from my mother,” I breathe out.

  I have no idea why Dyson seeing the roses is making me emotional. Maybe it’s the prospect of having to tell him that my mother is dead. She was a second mother to Dyson the way his mother was to my brother, and even to me, growing up. Both of them were single moms, both working hard to keep roofs over our heads and food in our bellies.

  I’ve managed to make it through the entire weekend without shedding a single tear even with looking at the roses on the counter and I’ll be dammed if I’m going to start now. Not in front of him. “Dammit,” I breathe, willing the tears in my eyes to stop.

  “I’m really sorry to hear about your mother, Ireland.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard from him and it’s my undoing. His quiet sympathy is too much.

  “I think you should go,” I whisper.

  “What did I say?” His voice is hurt. He’s hurt, dammit, why do I care?

  “Nothing, just please…” The tears I was fighting unleash down my cheeks and I can’t stop them. The next thing I know, Dyson has his arms wrapped tightly around me and he’s holding my head to his chest. It’s the most comforting place I’ve ever been in in my entire life. Even my mother’s arms don’t compare to this.

  Surrounded by his warmth and gentle caresses, I cry softly. Soaking his shirt. Realizing I’m ruining yet another article of clothing he’s wearing, I try in vain to push him away.

  He won’t let go, he simply holds me tighter. His cheek comes to rest on top of my head as his thumb rubs small circles on my back and his other hand strokes through my hair.

  I’m bawling over the loss of my mother and yet his touch is turning me on in ways I never knew existed and it’s making him irresistible. Once again, I’m lost in his touch, in his quiet compassion, and the scent that is sweet and spicy, and all Dyson.

  Chapter 17

  DYSON

  “When We Were Young” - Adele

  “Make me forget.” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “Please, take it away.” Her sobs come harder, but I get what she’s implying. “Just for a little while? Please,” she begs me and I don’t know that I have the strength to do this for her, to her. She deserves so much better than this.

  I pull back, looking into her red eyes and I see that she’s completely serious. “Ireland, I…”

  “Please,” she interrupts me. “I need…” she sniffs, “I need to be numb for a while.”

  I take her cheeks in my hands, wiping away her tears with my thumbs as I hold her face up toward mine. What happens next surprises me. I don’t know how I do it, but the next thing I know, my lips are crashing into hers.

  I watch as the emotion starts to fade, her tears start to dry up and she closes her eyes. Her body melts perfectly into mine and that zing of awareness sparks things deep down inside me that I haven’t felt in nearly ten years, not since the last time I held her in my arms. The heat radiating off her is an intoxicating feeling, making my head swim with lust and her desperation makes it impossible to ignore what she’s asking of me. I can’t say no to her. She is undeniable.

  Her lips against mine are soft, warm, and just like they were last night, stiff and tense from the fear or anxiety, which, I’m not sure.

  I give her a teasing flick of my tongue against her lips and rub my thumbs along her cheeks, hoping to coax her to open for me once again. I’m silently begging for her permission, granting me access inside so I can give her what she wants and what I desperately need. Until her lips met mine a moment ago, I didn’t realize how much I needed another taste since Friday night. Friday’s kiss reminded me of everything I’ve been missing in my life. This kiss is no different. Kissing her once was hard enough to deal with; this one is going to wreck me in ways I’ll never recover from.

  Her gently moan as she lets my tongue inside her mouth is like unlocking a caged tiger. Lust and desire explode through my body, my cock grows impossibly stiffer, twitching as it becomes hard as steel, straining against my pants, searching for the place he wants to be most. Buried inside her delectable pussy. Fuck.

  This girl is going to be the death of me. I know she’s not going anywhere so I release her cheeks and let my hands slide down to her neck and then her shoulders, still holding her to me, but giving her some space. I need to know this is what she really wants from me. I need her to take the lead because I’m dancing on the edge about to pass a point of no return.

  Her tongue curls around mine and her breathing slows more. She presses harder into me. Her hands take hold of my sides, pulling me closer to her. There’s no space between us and I feel the softness of her curves mold against my body.

  Unable to breathe anymore, I pull back from the kiss. “My control is hanging by a thread,” I breathe against her lips. “If you keep going, I won’t be able to stop.” My lips move against hers as I speak and I watch her shiver.

  “Don’t stop,” she moans back.

  “Where�
��s your room?” I ask and she pushes on me gently, coaxing me backwards. Her hands go to the bottom of my shirt and she starts pulling it out of my pants. I don’t stop her. She needs this. I need this. We need this to happen. At the end, she will either tell me to fuck off, getting her revenge for my harsh words all those years ago, or she will draw me in closer, pull me into the world that is Ireland, a world that once I’m inside, I will never be able to leave again.

  This is my chance to prove to her I have no intention of letting that night be the last time we’re together. I have to prove to her that what I did wasn’t real. This is the first step to that. Take her to bed, let her forget, let her be numb, and then prove to her I’m not going anywhere, not without her. Not unless she forces me away from her.

  I was trying to protect her all those years ago. I didn’t want to hurt her and I did what a dumb ass seventeen year old kid who had just witnessed his soul crashing with another human being would do. I freaked the fuck out.

  No matter how hard I tried to say I was protecting her, it wasn’t for her, it was for me. It was easier for me and for no one else. The attraction sparking between us is starting to pick away at the resolve I’d found years ago. It was a kid’s way of looking at the world. Now with her body pressing against mine, her hands unbuttoning my shirt, I know that wasn’t the case. If that were true, my heart wouldn’t be pounding in my chest from fear of the unknown. For the first time in my life, I’m afraid to hand over the power to hurt me to a girl I destroyed when she was only fifteen years old. If anyone can hurt me, it’s her and only her. Sleeping with her in that barn had been a mistake. Not the kind that I would take back, just the kind I wish I could do-over, a chance to do it right.