by Megyn Ward
Five years ago, she ruined me.
One night with her and I was done.
I fell and I didn’t even know it.
She comes apart in my mouth and the sweet, salty taste of her, the sound of my name, torn from her throat on a moan, snaps what little control I have left. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m pulling her down to the floor, turning and maneuvering until I’ve got her dress completely off and she’s under me. Until I’m between her still quivering thighs, pressed against the soft center of her, hands braced on either side of her head, hips flexing and grinding against her while her hands work between us, trying to get my pants off.
“Please.” She whimpers it, half demand, half plea. Her desperation pushing me, levering me up off the floor to kneel between her thighs.
“The bedroom,” I say, even as I’m jerking my belt loose and ripping the fly of my pants open, hard and fast enough to rend their stitching before working the cuffs of my shirt loose. “I have—”
“My purse. Where’s my purse?” she says, arching her back off the floor to work on the clasp of her bra. “Delilah put condoms in my purse.”
Spotting her purse a few feet above her head, I reach for it, leaning into her. “Forget what I said about your sister.” I kiss her, pressing my mouth against hers. “She’s a fucking saint,” I say and she laughs, even as her hands push past my open fly and under the waistband of my boxers to shove my pants off my hips as far as she can before wrapping her fingers around me, to give me a long slow stroke.
“Jesus,” I groan, fingers going tight around her purse, my hips flexing and pumping into her grip. Within seconds, I’m so close to coming my ears start to ring.
With another groan, I push myself to dig through her purse until I find what I’m looking for. A strip of condoms.
Tearing one off, I rip it open and push her hands away so I can roll it on. As soon as I do, I angle myself over her again, her knees coming up and opening wide so I can stroke into her, fast and hard, my hips surging and flexing against hers.
Wedging my hand against the small of her back, I press and lift, keeping myself inside her while I roll until she’s above me, straddling me.
Hands on her hips, I watch, mesmerized, while Silver lifts and lowers herself along the hard, desperate length of me.
“God, you’re beautiful.” My fingers dig into her hips, thumb skimming up the slick center of her to help her find her release, stroking her clit while she rides me. Her head thrown back, the tips of her hair brushing against my thighs. Lips parted on the sound of my name, shaped around a shuttering sigh. “Just like that,” I murmur, watching her breasts swaying with each deep, rhythmic stroke, until she falls forward, hands braced on my chest, her nails digging in, scoring the skin and muscle underneath, her core gripping and undulating around me. Until I’m following her under. Drowning right alongside her.
29
Silver
“I think I owe you a new one.”
I look up from the dress I’m trying to put back together. Tobias is standing a few feet away from me in front of his open fridge, wearing nothing but the pair of boxer briefs he pulled back on to make the trip to the kitchen. His hair is tousled, strong jaw shadowed with stubble, rubbing at his pec and the light pink marks my nails made on his skin.
He looks so normal. Relaxed. Nothing like the man I met in a nightclub five years ago. He looks like just a guy.
My guy.
The thought comes out of nowhere, rattling me, and I laugh to shake it off. “If you offer to call poor Angus to have him go dress shopping in the middle of the night, I’ll throw my shoe at you.”
He glances up from the fridge and grins at me. “I’m telling you, he’s sitting by the phone, waiting for me to call—he lives for that kind of shit.”
Because looking at him and breathing at the same time has become something I can’t seem to do, I refocus my attention on fixing my dress. “Somehow, I doubt Angus lives for the opportunity to dress shop for and chauffeur your sexual conquests around Manhattan.” Finally giving up on a quick fix, I sigh. “Maybe if I had a safety pin I could—”
“Sexual conquests?”
His tone pulls my gaze up from my ruined dress and I find him looking at me instead of the open refrigerator in front of him. “You think that’s what this was? That I’ve developed a habit of just bringing women—”
“No.” I shake my head, even though that’s exactly what I thought. “I just meant—”
“Because I don’t.” He shuts the fridge and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re still the only woman I’ve ever brought here.”
Still?
Okay. I didn’t know that. Instead of drawing attention to his confession, I let it go. “I just don’t want you to think I expect something from you. That this… means anything.”
That seems to have been the wrong thing to say because instead of putting him at ease, it seems to make him even angrier, his expression going still, his dark blue eyes sharpening. I expect him to start yelling but he doesn’t. Instead, he uncrosses his arms and reaches for me. Before I know what’s happening, he fits his hands around my waist and lifts me like I weigh nothing, setting me on the counter behind me.
“Explain.” Despite the heated look he’s giving me and the way his fingers are digging into my hips, his tone is soft. Almost gentle.
“I—” For some ridiculous reason, tears sting the back of my eyes, applying pressure until I have to hold my breath until they subside. “I don’t know what this is, Tobias—I don’t,” I repeat when he scowls at me. “But I do know that I don’t want you to think I’m here because I want something from you or because I think you can—”
Tell him. Tell him right now.
Before this goes any further.
“Stop.” His hands lift to shape themselves around my face. Instead of continuing to speak, he just looks at me, his gaze roaming over my face like he’s never going to see me again and he’s trying to lock in a memory of what I look like. “I made my first billion at the ripe old age of twenty-five.” He smirks, but it’s not a humorous expression. It looks almost painful. “Before I could even wrap my head around it, women came out of the woodwork—some I knew. Most I’d never even seen before in my life.” He sighs, his hands slipping from my face to find my hands, knotted together in my lap. “All of them claiming I owed them somehow. Made promises. Did things I never did. More than a few claimed I was the father of their children. They were all liars and they made my life a living hell for a really long time.”
As soon as he says it I feel sick, my confession dying on my tongue. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” I whisper, my gaze sliding away from his to rest on his cheekbone. “It must’ve been hard.” I’ve watched my mother go through it a few times. Crazy, obsessed fans who deluded themselves into believing they share some sort of bond with her. One even claimed she was his mother. That she gave birth to him and then abandoned him in a hospital in Kansas. The tabloids had a field day. Even once his claim was disproved, they hounded her for years.
“It wasn’t easy.” He laughs at my understatement. “I’ve never been a very trusting person, even before the money, but after everything that happened, I pretty much shut down.” He gives me that sarcastic grin of his, the one that stops my heart, every time I remember it. “I live by a very strict set of rules because of it, and the night I met you, I broke every single one of them.”
30
Tobias
I’m trying my hardest to not think about what I’m telling her. I’m trying even harder not to think about why.
I tell myself it’s because I was an asshole to her, all those years ago, and I owe it to her. An explanation for the way I behaved.
That it’s no big deal, but I’m a liar.
I’m telling her because I want her to know how sorry I am. That if I could go back and change it, I would. That even though we haven’t seen each other in five years and we only had one night together, that I feel somethi
ng for her that I’ve never felt before.
Holy shit.
I’m in love with her.
I’ve always been in love with her.
The realization almost knocks me on my ass but it’s nothing compared to what she says next.
“That’s why I think it’s best if we… don’t.” She’s chewing on her lower lip, a nervous habit I remember well. Every time she does it, I go hard so fast I can actually feel my brain cells dying of starvation.
“Don’t what?” Whatever she’s about to say, I know I’m not going to like it.
“Don’t do this.”
I laugh. I laugh so hard my abs start to ache. When I finally finish, she’s scowling at me. “I’m completely serious, Tobias. It’s either we stop this before it gets completely out of hand or—”
Jesus, I think she’s serious. The realization irritates me as much as it makes me admire her. “Out of hand?” Admiration or not, she’s crazy if she thinks I’m ending anything.
“Why do you keep repeating everything I say?” she says, her jaw set at a stubborn angle that makes me ache. “Yes—out of hand. We either end this thing now or…” Her gaze drops to the nail marks she raked across my chest when I made her come and her cheeks go pink, her ultimatum fading under the memory of what I did to her. She lets out a shaky breath before squaring her shoulders. “Or you withdraw your offer of partnership.”
We stare at each other for a moment, her cheeks flushed, my cock throbbing while I try to find my bearings. Try to approach this like a rational man instead of what I really am.
“You know I’m right,” she says, her breath soft and thin against my cheek.
Abandoning all hope for a rational conversation, I give in completely. Gripping her hips, I jerk her across the counter, pressing myself into the space between her thighs so hard and fast, she gasps.
“Let me see if I’m understanding you correctly,” I growl at her, flexing my hips against her, letting her feel exactly what she’s doing to me. “I can either fuck you or give you money—” I flex again, grinding myself against her until her pupils dilate and she’s panting, her fingers digging into the strained tendons in my neck. “but not both. Is that what you’re saying?”
She nods, mouth parted slightly like she’s having a hard time breathing, eyelashes flutter against flushed cheeks. “Yes.”
“I have to tell you, Miss Fiorella…” Lifting a hand, I cradle her jaw, letting my thumb skim along her lush lower lip, slipping it into her mouth, brushing the pad of it against the tip of her tongue. The second I make contact, I remember what it’s like to come in her mouth and I have to swallow a groan. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” I slip my thumb further into her mouth, using my grip on her to tilt her head back, giving myself access to her throat, slowly working my way down while she licks and sucks my—
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I hear the elevator.
“Sir?”
As soon as she hears his voice, Silver goes stiff against me her hands falling away from my shoulders to jerk her dress closed, pushing my hand away from her mouth.
Fuck Angus and his British efficiency.
I lift my head and look over to see that while the elevator door is open, he hasn’t disembarked. Probably sees the majority of our clothes tossed around and assumes we’re busy.
“I can come back—”
“No.” I glower at her, telling her we’re not finished. Not by a long shot. “Now is good.”
Angus steps off the elevator, dressed in a three-piece suit at midnight, carrying a pair of shopping bags. One from Bergdorf’s. The other from the grocer around the corner. “The items you requested, sir.” He enters the kitchen area to hand me the Bergdorf’s bag before sliding the other onto the kitchen island. “Is there anything else you require?”
I set the bag next to Silver since it’s for her and shake my head. “No. I’ll give you a call in the—”
“Wait.”
I turn away from Angus to see Silver look up from the contents of the shopping bag, her face pale and slightly panicked.
“Are the items not what you require, Madam?” Angus looks at her, slightly puzzled, like his British sensibilities won’t allow him to consider that he may have missed something she might need.
“No.” Silver shakes her head, her gaze darting toward me before she continues. “I mean, yes—this is great.” She indicates the shopping bag in front of her. “But I can’t stay,” she says, emphasizing the last word like the assumption is ridiculous and my neck goes stiff. “I need a ride to the airport… or the train station.” When neither of us says anything she pushes on. “I mean, I can call an Uber or a cab but I can’t—”
I’m sure she can’t see it because Angus is a Sphinx but I can. When she says Uber he almost loses it.
“If you require transportation, Madam, I will be more than happy to provide it for you. An Uber will not be necessary.” He looks at me and I give him a slight, almost imperceptible shake of my head.
He’s not taking her anywhere.
“Very well.” He bows slightly, the ghost of a smile sliding across his face. “Sir. Madam.”
And then he’s gone.
For a second, neither of us says anything. I move away from her completely, trying to rein it in, focusing on the groceries I had Angus pick up, pulling items from the bag and lining them up on the island in front of me.
Even before I hit billionaire status, I was used to getting what I wanted. No is not something I’ve ever been able to accept. If there’s something I want, I find a way. I make it mine, by any means necessary.
“I can’t stay, Tobias.”
Her tone tightens my jaw. There’s no wiggle room in it. She’s not going to stay.
I finally turn around and look at her. I don’t like what I see. I can tell by the way she’s holding herself, stiff and ready to bolt that she thinks I’m going to lose my temper. Throw money at her and tell her to get out.
Knowing that’s how she’s expecting me to behave both angers and mollifies me. It’s nothing less than I deserve and knowing that makes it easy to keep myself in check.
“Why?” I say, keeping my tone light, I carry a carton of ice cream to the freezer.
“Why?” She gives me a deer in the headlights kind of look, blinking at me. “Because,” she says, sliding off the counter to pick up a carton of milk. “I have responsibilities.” She hands me the milk, shaking her head. “I have work in the morning, I can’t just—”
“I’ll call your father.” I take the milk and stick it in the fridge. “I’ll tell him that I flew you to New York, last minute, so we can scout potential locations in the morning.”
“You will not call my father,” she sputters at me, swiping a carton of eggs off the counter before jamming them into my hand. “The last thing I need for him to think is—”
“You’re a grown woman with an active sex life.” I finish for her, laughing when she narrows her eyes at me.
“No.” she slaps the word at me before all but throwing a loaf of bread in my face. “That I’m carrying on with an investor.”
“Carrying on?” I laugh at her and she glares at me, silvery gray eyes spitting fire at me. Before she can turn away, I catch her by the wrist and haul her against me. “Is that what we’re doing here?”
“We’re not doing anything,” she snaps at me. “I already told you. We can’t keep—”
I spin her into the fridge, pressing her back while I mold myself against her. “And I told you…” I run my hand up the length of her thigh. “I don’t agree with you.”
It’s not until her chin starts to tremble that I realize how serious she is. How close she is to crying.
“Okay,” I switch gears, putting as much space between us as I can without letting her go, because I think I understand what this is about. The last time she spent the night, she woke up alone to a stack of cash and a terse, thank you for your services note. “You don’t have to spend the night here,” I
say, covering my desperation to keep her as close as I can with a thin coat of rationality. “You can use my suite at the Hawthorne. Please.”
Please.
This is as close to begging as I’ve ever come and I feel it again. The same way I felt the morning after, looking at my picture of my mother, knowing she saw it. Caught a glimpse of what makes me bleed. I feel wounded. Exposed. So much so that I’m about to tell her never mind. That I’ll call Angus right now. She can go if she wants to. I don’t—
She nods, giving me a small smile, her hand reaching up to brush my hair back. The gesture is so unexpected that it nearly undoes me. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
31
Silver
Okay. I’ll stay.
The words come out before I have a chance to realize what I’m saying. What I’m doing.
As soon as I say it, his entire body relaxes and he lets out a long, slow breath, telling me just how important my staying is to him.
Trying to inject some levity into the situation, I smile. “I hate to bring it up, but you did kidnap me under the pretense of dinner.”
He smiles. “I’ve got dinner covered,” he says, cocking his head toward the kitchen island. Looking in the direction he indicates, I see a familiar, bright yellow box lined up between a package of Oreos and a pile of frozen burritos.
“You remembered?” I look back at him, shaking my head. “How—”
“I remember everything about you.” He leans into me, giving me that wry grin of his. I know now that he uses it to cover up how he really feels. When he’s feeling vulnerable. “It’s kind of hard to forget a woman who tells you her deepest, darkest secret is that her soul is made of pizza rolls.”
“I thought you hated me,” I whisper, trying to reconcile the way he behaved five years ago with what he’s telling me now.
“I did hate you.” He says it softly, gaze roaming my face. “Mostly because even though I believed the worst, I never stopped thinking about you.”