I tugged the blankets over myself and lay there watching her, debating how I’d end it in the morning. I could crave her more than anything, but it was over. And it never should have started to begin with. As I thought about exactly what to say to ease the sting, I watched her steady breathing and my lungs filled with her sweet scent.
Just once more. I should have spread her legs and taken her again. Had I known that I’d wake up alone, I would have.
I sit back in my leather seat, letting out an aggravated sigh as I watch the security tape again. She slipped out, only leaving a note behind. I watch in amusement as she keeps looking up from the small Post-it she’d found on my kitchen counter. The pen never even touched the paper for a full two minutes as she contemplated what to write.
She’s lost and confused. She doesn’t even know what she wants.
But I do.
I move the sticky side of the Post-it from my middle finger to my pointer and back again mindlessly.
Thank you.
If last night was more than just last night…
I trace the curves of her letters; it’s a feminine script. She was made to tempt men. I’m convinced of it. Everything from the soft sighs to the way she carries herself are clear signs.
It’s as if she was designed to lure me in unknowingly.
Even the way she’s written her phone number. Each gentle sweep makes my fingers yearn to punch in the numbers on my phone.
Weakness. Stupidity.
Last night was a mistake. I don’t have to call her. I don’t owe her anything, and I’m fairly sure she doesn’t expect a damn thing either.
Why does that bother me even more?
The sticky note continues to move from finger to finger. I know I shouldn’t call her. Nothing good can come from this.
My eyes trail back to her message. Again I stare at her phone number.
Selfish. So fucking selfish.
That’s the problem though, isn’t it? I just don’t give a damn about anyone else. The thought is what strengthens my resolve. It’s all going to come crumbling down around me soon. I deserve to enjoy what little time I have left.
Chapter 10
Julia
Deep breaths, it’ll be okay.
We’re done with yesterday.
It doesn’t matter, hold back the tears.
Ignore the hurt, ignore the fears.
It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong.
Don’t let go, just hold on strong.
The water trickles slowly from the spout of the iron faucet. I grip the side of the claw foot porcelain tub, the water splashing slightly in the otherwise silent room as I get comfortable. Then I rest my cheek against the cool, hard porcelain and watch it drip.
The water's practically lukewarm by now, but I don't want to get out. My wet hair clings to my skin and I sink in further, letting the water rise up to my neck. My legs sway side to side, and the water still drips.
Last night... it was a mistake. And this morning, I close my eyes and bring my hands up to my face, that was a mistake, too. There's nothing in etiquette class about leaving your one-night stand.
My throat feels raw as I take in a breath, remembering how last night felt. His hands on my body, his chest against mine as he rocked in and out of me, mercilessly, ruthlessly.
I've never... I swallow thickly, hating that I'm even comparing what happened to what I had with my husband. I feel like a bitch riddled with guilt, but I just let myself fall into the water, as if I can wash it all away.
No amount of time spent in this tub will clean away the sins of last night.
One good thing’s come of it though. The words are flowing through me so easily. All I’ve done since I’ve been home is write. I shouldn’t be happy about that, and I shouldn’t feel like this.
The pain in my chest though, the way my heart feels tight and my lungs too squished to breathe quite right, that's because I don't regret it.
I feel guilty that I don’t feel guilty. How does that even make sense?
Ping. My phone dings and I groan, squeezing my eyes tight. I must've been more than a bit tipsy last night to let Sue act as my conscience. She won't leave me alone. There were way too many fucking texts for her to have gone home with anyone herself last night.
I woke up this morning to a string of texts from her. Lots of Please tell me he didn't kill you messages, and a series of apologies if he did. She thinks she's funny. I thought I was doing a good thing by letting her know I was still in fact alive and unharmed, but all that did was open a floodgate of questions.
I can't help the way my lips beg me to smile and the way my heart flutters. Sue's having a good time teasing me. I push my big toe up into the spout as I slip deeper into the water and rest my head back.
Ping. My phone goes off again. I turn my head to the right, to where my towel and phone are sitting on the marble bench.
I can only imagine what she wants to know this time.
"I can't hide in here forever," I mutter under my breath, blowing the water away and finally lifting myself out of the comfort of the bath. I lean down and pull the plug, letting the cool air hit my heated skin.
It was nice while it lasted and after last night, it did my body good to relax in here. As I lean over to grab the towel, my pussy aches again with a slight twinge of pain. It's a good hurt though, the kind that lets you know you've been properly fucked. I laugh slightly into the towel and dry off my body, then work on patting my hair dry. My feet patter against the black and white penny tile floor.
The bathroom matches the estate's classic interior. Every accent and piece of décor reflects the timing of when the house was built. There are a few modern pieces, but they only accentuate the beauty of the classic architecture. It's expensive to maintain, but the beauty is unmatched.
I continue towel drying my long hair as the memories of renovating the house come to me one by one. The bit of happiness I'd claimed only moments ago seems to vanish.
Jace and I got into so many fights over this damn tile. I can see him standing in front of the mirror, glaring at me for being stubborn. It’s my family’s house though. This isn’t an Anderson estate. We both knew I was far more well off than he ever was. The steamy glass can't hide the past. I can hear his voice; I can see it all like it was just yesterday.
But it was years ago, and he's never coming back.
Ping. This time when the phone goes off, I can't help but want to cling to whatever Sue's sending me. I take a seat on the bench, wincing as my sore bottom sits against the hard marble and pick up the damn phone.
But it's not her.
Well, this last message isn't.
I have three from Sue, all wanting to know details about what I did with Mason last night. I roll my eyes and let out a small snort at her question about size.
By the looks of him, he should be packing... but I'm going to guess he's only four inches. Am I right?
She cracks me up. She's been sending me this shit all day. Anything to get me talking.
Nope, only three, I type back just to give her something to laugh about. She deserves it. Without all these messages and prodding I'm not sure how I would have handled this on my own.
I click over to the other message and my heart does an odd flip in my chest. Like it can't function for just a moment. Maybe it's shock and disbelief, or maybe it's fear? I'm not sure, but either way, I'm struck by the fact that Mason messaged me at all. I was sure that sneaking out the way I did would have sealed the deal between the two of us.
I wasn't even sure if I should leave my phone number. I imagine he was relieved to find his drunken one-night stand gone, and I didn't want him to feel obligated to call me.
At the same time, I desperately wanted him to call.
Not because of him. It’s not that I’m clinging to having a relationship at all. I just… I liked the way he made me… I don’t know what the right word is. The way nothing else mattered when I was with him. How it all slipped away, and I didn�
��t have to focus on anything but him. Mostly because he was only focused on me.
I want more of that. I need it. I bite down on my bottom lip and read the message.
It's not a question, and it's not a hello or an admonishment for leaving him.
I want to see you again. Blue Hill. 8 p.m. tonight.
I blink a few times at the message, and then a bit of anger starts to surface. He's so fucking presumptuous. As if I have nothing better to do than meet up with him.
I don't, if I’m being honest with myself. I haven't got a damn thing to do, other than write, which can wait, and everything in me wants to meet up with him. I lose a little bit of the fight in me at the thought, but still. This isn't happening like this.
I look down at the message again and the second read through only pisses me off even more.
Maybe I want a good fuck too, and by maybe I mean I fucking need it, but I'm not a goddamn call girl. Last night was something out of my realm.
Busy. I type in the word and hit send without even thinking, letting my high and mighty attitude lead me. But as soon as it pops up on the screen, oh fuck I wish I could take it back.
My head falls back, and I groan in aggravation. I should have just said yes. After all, I'm using him too, aren't I? I'm so busy staring at the ceiling and cursing myself that when my phone pings in my hand, I jump slightly.
Are you now?
His response should piss me off, but it makes me smile. I can just imagine the teasing way he would say it. Like he knows exactly why I responded like that. I smirk and bite the inside of my cheek as I text back.
Maybe I am.
His response is immediate. You are now. Blue Hill. 8 p.m.
My shoulders straighten, and I can't help but feel like this is some kind of test. Like a battle of wills between us. And I have no intention of losing.
Busy.
I hit send and wait for his response. I'm just staring at the screen and listening to the blood rush through my ears as the phone marks the message as read.
There's no immediate message back, and I start to question my position. I don't want to be alone tonight. I know it's pathetic, but I'm so tired of being lonely, lying in bed at night, staring at where Jace used to sleep.
I take in a heavy breath when Mason doesn’t message me back. It’s probably best that I don’t see Mason tonight anyway. I’ve never been alone before, and I’m too tempted to cling to him already. I push my hair back and try to decide if I should convince Sue to go out tonight. I'm sure she would if only I asked. Any of the girls would, and I fucking love them for it.
The phone pings in my hand and like a bitch in heat, I'm quick to read what he's said.
You win. Your call.
I bite the inside of my cheek and sway slightly as I write my response.
Chapter 11
Mason
Don’t breathe, the truth is baiting.
Don’t move, the end is waiting.
Don’t blink, you’ve started it all.
Don’t mourn, you’re set up to fall.
“So who is she?” Liam asks me from his office as I’m on my way out. He leans out of the doorway, both hands on the doorframe and smirks at me.
“Who?” I ask, turning my back to him again so I can lock up my office. It’s a habit of mine. No one has a key but me. I’ve got fifteen employees here who come and go throughout the day, but my office is only for me.
“The chick you hooked up with last night.” I test the doorknob, making sure it's locked, and toss my keys into my pocket. I’m just heading across the street to the sandwich shop. I won’t be long, which is good because I want to have all these numbers run by the time I need to leave for Blue Hill.
When I turn back around, Liam’s got his arms crossed and he’s leaning against the door, waiting for me like I owe him some sort of explanation.
“None of your business,” I say and smirk back at him.
“Oh shit,” he says and his brow furrows. “You really did hook up with someone last night?” he asks me with disbelief. Liam’s always been a talker. He doesn’t seem to mind my demeanor as much as everyone else. Give him enough time and he can have an entire conversation by himself, so maybe the two of us were just meant to be friends.
He pushes off the doorframe and says, “I was going to give you shit for leaving me hanging last night.”
“Just didn’t want to be alone last night,” I tell him honestly. “Better her company than yours,” I say with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.
“So are we going to go over it tonight then?” he asks me.
“Go over what?”
“What our investor said at the meeting you had without me yesterday.” By investor, he means my father.
“It wasn’t about Grays Homes.” I take a few steps down the hall, closer to his office. Mine’s the largest, and in the very back. Liam’s is catty-corner to mine and the only other office in here. Across from his office is the boardroom, which is currently empty and really only ever used for sales pitches and end of quarter wrap-ups.
“Oh.” Liam seems genuinely taken by surprise. His face says everything though, and it's clear he wants to ask me a million fucking questions. Why was my father so insistent on meeting with me? Why did he come in here over and over and finally force my hand?
“It's been a bit tense for the last few months between us,” I admit, keeping my voice low enough so it’s just the two of us in this conversation. I know Margaret, our secretary, is right down the hall and close enough to hear if we talk loud enough.
“Few months?” he asks me.
I stare at him, feeling my expression hardening. I stopped talking to my father a while ago. I know this is a necessary evil. I’m caught between wanting to do what’s right, and knowing for sure that I’d be doing the right thing. So instead of acting, I’ve been avoiding him every chance I got.
It worked my entire life up until now. Until he told me what I already knew, confirming it and forcing me to face the truth.
“Don’t worry about it.” I give him a tight smile. “It’s got nothing to do with the business.”
“And what about you?” he asks. “I can’t be worried about you?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” he says then turns his shoulder like he’s going to head back into his office as the phone rings.
“Go get it,” I say and nod past him toward the inside of his office. “I’m just picking up a Reuben.”
“Alright,” he mutters and starts to head into his office, but before I make it another two steps he’s popping his head outside of the door again. “Will you get me a Coke?”
I look over my shoulder at him, the sounds of everyone else working getting louder and louder. “Yeah.” I don’t break my stride as I head down the hall. Our company owns this floor of the Rising Falls Building; it’s a tall office building that’s made for businesses just like ours. The second I stepped in here I knew this was where I wanted to work. There’s clear glass everywhere. So much natural light and the views of the city give constant inspiration.
Even the cubicles have plexiglass walls.
“Out to lunch?” Margaret asks as I walk past her.
“I’ll be right back,” I say and nod, again not breaking my stride and head past all my employees to the elevator.
“Yes, sir,” Margaret answers with a light-hearted tone. I’ve never seen that woman not smile. It's as if being our secretary is the highlight of her day. She’s damn good at what she does, too. At first I was opposed to letting anyone step in and take control of scheduling and inventory, but as we grew, I just couldn’t handle it all.
I push the button for the elevator and when I hear the ping, I’m reminded of Jules’ text. The irritation and anger that surfaced from thinking about my father nearly vanishes.
Just the thought of what was going through her mind when she texted me back makes me smile. She’s a testy little thing. I didn’t expect tha
t. There’s more to Miss Summers than I thought there was, and I’m definitely intrigued.
I check my Rolex as the elevator dings and the doors slowly open. There’s no one inside so I walk right in and hit the button for the ground floor. Only six hours until dinner.
My chest feels tight, and the small smile leaves me. It’s fucked up in so many ways, but she’ll never know. I’ll make sure she never finds out.
Chapter 12
Julia
They don’t understand,
How it takes away the pain.
To feel and be felt.
To heat the blood in your veins.
They’ll watch and they’ll judge,
Although they’d do it, too.
But the guilt’s not from them.
It’s coming from you.
Pastel pink macarons, and crystal chandeliers. I love this place. It’s a tiny shop and the treats are too damn expensive for what they are, but it’s the vibe I love. I scoot my silver stool closer to the small round table and peel the cupcake wrapper as I listen to Suzette.
“I just want to know every last detail,” she says with barely contained joy. Kat looks between the two of us and hasn’t touched a thing on the etched tray in the center of the table. I know there’s something there that would make her smile, but she’s not interested.
I can feel both sets of their eyes on me, but I don’t look up. It’s too pretty in this little shop to feel this damn anxious. My eyes settle on the tall crystal flute of pink champagne and I take a quick sip, tilting my head up to look at the carved tin ceiling. Everything in here is pink, silver, shiny and new. So pretty to look at, but useless in saving Kat’s attitude.
“How could you not tell us?” she says, and her voice is low. She’s still standing, her purse on the stool and I don’t think she has any intention of sitting down in the least. She’s pissed. “That’s what I really don’t get.”
Imperfect (Sins and Secrets Series of Duets Book 1) Page 6