His Every Desire (Contemporary Romance Box Set)
Page 5
“I’m crazy and passionate. I have fun. I live life to the fullest, and all I’m asking is for a little bit of your time. Just get to know me and forget all about that dick at the office,” I plead.
5
Maddie
I can’t deny that I find him attractive. Okay, more like drop-dead sexy to the point that I can’t close my eyes without seeing him. And if I’m honest with myself, I do want to get to know him. I guess if we started hanging out, it would be casual, and I wouldn’t want anyone from work knowing about it anyway, so it would be on the down-low. We’d have to keep up appearances. So, would taking this step forward with him be that big of a deal?
“What is it that you want from me, Bennet? I’m not a relationship girl.”
“That’s fine with me. I’m not the type of man you marry anyway,” he jokes, sitting back on the table in front of me. “I just want to take you out, get to know you, have fun, and have someone to enjoy things with.”
I bite my lower lip and nod. “Okay. We’ll be friends outside of work, but this is just between us. I don’t want anyone thinking that I’m sleeping my way to the top or something. At work, it’s Madeline and Mr. Windsor only,” I say emphatically. I don’t want him blurring the lines.
“Deal,” he agrees with a smile.
It’s contagious, and I smile back.
“I guess I can put my clothes back on now,” he laughs, standing up and retrieving his clothes.
“What was it that you wanted to show me?” I ask, walking him back to the door. “Surely it wasn’t your chest.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll show you tomorrow at the office. It can wait.”
I nod. “Okay.” I open the door, and he starts stepping out.
Suddenly, he turns back toward me. “Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”
“Before or after the gym?” I ask, leaning against the door frame with my arms crossed.
“You’re going to the gym?”
I shrug and offer a half-smile. “Why not?”
“After,” he answers, turning and leaving.
The workout he puts me through is hot and tiring, but it ends quickly, and we each go to the locker rooms to shower and get ready for dinner. I wash up and dry off. Since I didn’t bring my entire bathroom with me, I braid my hair and let it hang over my shoulder. Then I pull on a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeve Henley shirt. I don’t even bother trying to put on makeup. When I exit the locker room, Bennet is leaning against the counter, talking with another guy and waiting on me.
“Hey,” I say, coming to a stop next to him.
“Hey.” He stands upright. “Are you ready?”
I nod as I check him out. He’s wearing a pair of fitted dark-wash jeans and a t-shirt that stretches over his muscled arms and chest. He looks downright mouthwatering, and here I am in yoga pants and a crappy shirt.
God, I hope we’re not going someplace nice.
“This way,” he says, placing his hand on my lower back as he leads me out of the gym and into the parking lot.
He opens the passenger side door on a black convertible Mercedes AMG and motions for me to climb inside. I don’t know much about cars, but I know enough to conclude that this car is not only expensive, but custom.
“So, this is your car, huh?” I ask, walking slowly around it.
He nods with a smile. “Yeah. What did you expect?”
I laugh and shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I never pictured it, but it makes sense.” I take my seat, and he closes the door. He climbs behind the wheel and starts the car; the engine roars to life and settles into a purr. He shifts into gear and hits the gas.
As we drive through the city, I look around: at him, at the car, just mesmerized by it all.
“Why are you staring?” he asks with a grin.
I laugh and shrug. “I don’t know. I was just thinking that this car is more Mr. Windsor than Bennet.”
“Oh yeah? What do you think Bennet should drive?”
Again, I shrug. “I don’t know. Something big. A guy in a suit fits in this car. A bad-ass boxer, he needs a Hummer or something big and awesome but still expensive and fancy.”
He laughs. “Okay, tomorrow, I’ll go buy a Hummer.”
I smack his arm. “No, I was just being stupid and talking. Don’t go buy an expensive vehicle on my behalf.” I look around and see that we’re leaving the city. “Where are we going?”
“My place,” he says with a smile, wagging his brows.
“Bennet, seriously, I’m not sleeping with you. We’re friends. That’s it.”
He laughs. “I’m not bringing you here to take advantage of you. I’m bringing you here for the dinner my staff has already prepared. It’s not like either of us are dressed for someplace fancy, and we both just kicked our own asses at the gym.”
I turn my head and look at the massive houses we’re driving past, feeling a little guilty for jumping to conclusions.
When he pulls into a driveway with brick walls and an iron gate, I look forward, hoping to catch a peek of the house. He puts in a code, and the gates open. The driveway is long and winding, with big trees and bushes and flowers covering the grounds. Finally, a big, three-story mansion comes into view. It has everything, from the circle drive down to the fountain in the center.
I laugh. “God, do all you rich people pick your houses out of a magazine, or what?”
He grins. “I know, it does look very—”
“Ridiculous?” I finish for him.
He shrugs. “I admit, it is a tad wasteful.”
“A tad?” I ask.
“Okay, so I don’t get any bonus points for the house. I got it.” He opens my door, and I step out.
“I don’t give bonus points for material things, Bennet.”
He closes my door and takes my arm, leading me toward the front door. “Noted.” Even though he doesn’t sound happy, he still smiles and winks.
When he walks me into the foyer, my mouth nearly drops open, and my eyes feel like they bug out of my skull.
“You’re not impressed; don’t make that face, Maddie,” he tells me, dropping his bag on the floor by the door.
I laugh. “I’m amazed, but not impressed.”
“Let me guess, you don’t get impressed by material things either,” he teases.
I don’t answer because he pulls me across the room and down a hallway to the dining room. The table is already set, two glasses of wine poured. He pulls out my chair, and I sit down. He joins me and holds up his glass of wine. We cheers, and I take a sip, wrinkling my nose.
“What’s wrong?”
I place the glass back on the table. “I’m more of a beer girl.”
He holds up his finger as he stands and leaves the room. A second later, he’s coming back with two beers in his hand. “Better?” he asks, handing one over.
I smile and take it. “Much.” I twist off the top and take a long drink.
He shakes his head. “You’re much different than I thought you’d be.”
“How so?”
He takes a drink and sets it on the table, giving me his full attention. “Well, most women, even if they don’t know this side of things, they still try to act like they do. They complement things like the vase in the hallway, something that looks expensive, but still, something they know nothing about it. You,” he points at me. “You haven’t done any of that.”
I take another drink and lock my eyes on his. “Well, first, I don’t agree with the most women comment; perhaps it’s the women you’re choosing. As for pretending, what’s the point? Things and money don’t do it for me, Bennet. Being a good person, treating others with kindness, helping when someone needs help—those are things that impress me. Anyone can have money and act like a rich asshole. It’s those that choose to be a good person that I like. You could be dirt poor, but as long as I enjoy your company, I’d like you just the same.”
He smiles. “I’ve never met a woman like you.”
&nbs
p; “There’s a first time for everything.” I hold up my bottle, and he clinks his against it.
As we eat, I can see him loosening up. For the first time since I met him, he lets everything fall away. He doesn’t bring up work or money or boxing or his family. We just talk about music, movies, books, and things we like to do. I learn that he likes to do anything dangerous: rock climbing, skydiving, racing his car at the speed of light. And I tell him that I would love to do all of those things. Well, except the racing part, but I’d love to watch. He asks about where and how I grew up and shows interest in how I got into the field I did. By the time we’re done with dinner and dessert, I feel like I know him on a whole different level, like he’s a friend.
“What do you say to watching a movie and having a few more drinks?” he asks, picking up my hand that’s on the table and holding it.
I look at his hand on mine. “I don’t know. It’s getting pretty dark, and I don’t want to make you drive me home super late.”
“It wouldn’t be an imposition at all,” he insists. “Or you can just stay the night.” His smile grows bigger.
I shake my head. “Really, I should be going.” I place my cloth napkin onto the table and stand.
“If you insist, but I was planning on watching Death Becomes Her.” He grins, knowing that’s my all-time favorite movie because we had just talked about it.
I laugh. “Fine, one movie.”
He holds up his hands, palms facing me.
He shows me to the living room and excuses himself to get the movie and a few more beers. When he comes walking back in a few moments later, he has a small cooler that’s filled with ice and beer.
“You really go all out, don’t ya?” I ask, grabbing a beer and opening it.
He shrugs as he bends down and puts in the movie. “I hate getting up when I’m watching a movie.”
“Me too,” I agree, happy that he’s not the type that wants to stop the movie every fifteen minutes to use the bathroom, get drinks or snacks.
He comes back to the couch and sits down next to me. Suddenly, we feel very close, which is weird because we’ve been closer before. But this is different. This is intimate and relaxing. I’ve already had two beers with dinner, and now I’m on my third. Everything is starting to sound like a good idea, even though, in the back of my head, I know it’s not.
His scent makes its way to my nose and causes me to sink into the couch in relaxation. I can feel his heat radiating off of him. It soaks into me and makes me feel comfortable yet amped and ready to go at the same time. When his hand bumps mine, it feels like it’s been burned, but it’s a burn I love. A burn I’m suddenly wanting to feel more of. But I tell myself it’s just the alcohol, and to focus on the movie.
Turns out, what I focus on is the beer, because before the movie is even halfway over, I’ve had two more. My vision is starting to blur around the edges, and everything is funny. When his hand bumps against mine again, I turn and look at him. He’s engrossed in the movie, so for a split second, I get to see him. Just him. No walls up, no expectations to meet, nobody to impress. It’s just him, carefree and laid back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this relaxed.
“What?” he asks, noticing that I’m staring at him.
I smile and shake my head. “I’ve never seen you so laid back. For once, it looks like you’re not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
He looks at me with heavy eyes. “It’s because I’m with you. For the first time, I don’t have to worry about meeting expectations, or being a certain version of myself. I can just be me: the me I hide from everyone else.”
Something about his honesty calls to me. Maybe being with him wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I mean, we both know we’re not looking to settle down. We’re just looking for someone special to share things with, be with.
Without saying a word, I crawl into his lap. He watches me with unsure eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Slowly, I lean forward and press my lips to his. He kisses me back, soft and slow. Then pulls away and looks into my eyes.
“Do you do this with all your friends?” He tries to keep a straight face but fails.
“Nope. Guess you’re special,” I whisper, moving back in for a kiss.
This time, he’s much more prepared, and he kisses me back, hard and fast. His hand squeezes my hips and slowly moves up and down my back. I reach down in between us, grabbing his shirt and pulling it upward. Our kiss breaks for only a second until he’s free of his shirt, and then our lips are back, moving along with each other.
With his shirt now gone, he lays me back on the couch, covering my body with his. His lips start moving down my jaw and then to my neck. His hands on my hips start moving upward, pushing my shirt up my body as he goes. Every muscle tightens when his hands find my flesh. They’re warm and strong, not too smooth but not too rough. You can tell he likes working with his hands.
I’m completely lost in the way his body feels against mine, so when he pulls away, I’m shocked. He sits up and shakes his head, rubbing his eyes.
I sit up. “What’s wrong?” I ask, breathless, my heart still reeling.
“You didn’t want this earlier.”
“I know.”
“Why now?” He looks at me, and his green eyes are practically glowing.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It just felt right. I’ve gotten to know you better, learned why you are the way you are. And you’ve shown me that there’s more to you than just work and boxing. I got to see you let your guard down. I just feel closer to you.”
He nods, and the seriousness on his face eases away. “It has nothing to do with how much we’ve had to drink tonight? Because I want you, Maddie. I do, but not this way.”
I lick my lips. “If I said the alcohol had nothing to do with it, I’d be lying. But I wouldn’t blame it on being drunk either. Yes, it’s loosened me up some. It helped me to let go of everything that was holding me back earlier.”
“As much as I want this, I think we should get you home. I like getting what I want, but I don’t want to cheat to do it.” He stands and adjusts himself before holding out his hand to me.
I place mine in his, and he pulls me up. “It isn’t cheating, Bennet. But I respect your decision.”
He places his hands on either side of my face and pulls me against him. I think he’s going to kiss me, but he just locks his eyes on mine. “I want you, but I want you to want me back when you’re sober. I don’t want you to need a few drinks in to loosen you up. I want you to want me every moment of every day. And I’ll wait as long as I need to until that happens.”
I smile at his words. “Okay,” I agree.
He closes the small gap between us and gives me a soft, slow kiss.
“Come on. I’ll have my driver take you home.”
He releases me, all but one hand, and he leads me through the house and into the garage where we climb into the back of a blacked-out town car.
As we wait for the driver, he takes my hand in his and holds it between us. “There is a function that I have to go to for work. It’s a formal event, and I need a date. Would you like to go with me?”
“I thought we said this was just an outside-of-work thing? I don’t want it get—”
“Nobody from work will be there. Nobody who knows you anyway,” he interrupts. “As CEO of the company, I have to make an appearance for a charity event. It will be a bunch of old board members and stuffy rich people.” He smiles.
I look over at him in the darkness. “Would I be going with you or with Mr. Windsor?”
He moves his head from side to side. “I guess a little of both. I can be carefree when it’s just you and me, but out there, I have a reputation to uphold.”
I nod and offer up a small smile. It’s too bad that he thinks he can’t be himself around anyone else. It must get tiring to constantly pretend to be something you’re not.
“I’d love to go with the both of you,” I joke.
6
 
; Bennet
My driver pulls up to the curb at her apartment building, and as she prepares to leave the car, I pull her in for one last kiss. I hate myself for stopping us earlier. There’s nothing I want more than to slide deep inside her. But I want her to want it as badly as I do. I want her to need it. And I’m more than willing to wait. Something about her calls to me in a way no other woman has. I’ve never had to work for women before, and the fact that she’s making me work for it is a turn-on in itself. I want her. But I want to deserve her. And I know that I don’t yet.
Her lips move softly against mine, and her tongue teases my senses. I have the urge to pull her on top of me and take what I wouldn’t earlier, but I force myself to let her go.
“Goodnight, Madeline,” I whisper against her lips.
She smiles. “Goodnight, Bennet.” She climbs out, and I watch her until she gets into the building.
I wake in the morning and get to the office quickly. I respond to emails and phone messages for the first hour, then decide to look for Maddie. I walk out of my office, and Sarah looks up at me from her desk.
“Sarah, could you please tell me where I can find Madeline Strickland?”
She nods. “Of course, sir.” She sits down and starts tapping around on her computer. “Third floor, room three-seventeen.”
“Thank you,” I say, pushing forward.
I get in the public elevator and push the button for the third floor. It stops on the fifth floor, and someone else gets on. At first, he pays me no mind, but then it dawns on him, and he gives me a double-take.