Everyone moved to the drawing room after dinner for more drinks. Waverly was, for once, thrilled to receive a work text from a client, needing an immediate response. Removing herself to the kitchen for privacy, she faced the windows, phone to her ear, watching the wind blow the numerous trees lining the grounds. Although there were caterers moving around, it was the closest and most private place for her to make the call.
Finishing her call she noticed that someone had walked up behind her, standing very close, too close, it was the creepy boob watcher. Frowning, she pretended to send a text, still there when she finally turned, with a lecherous smile.
“Work call.”
Waggling her phone and trying to move past him. Grabbing her arm, his breath foul with liquor, he leaned into her, the left side of his body pressed into hers.
“Meet me for drinks sometime and tell me about your little business.”
Waverly had fended off unwanted advances for years, but she was somewhat shocked that this guy, even drunk, a guest at his friend’s house, was trying this. He wasn’t some random, drunk guy hitting on her at a club, he was a friend, or at least an acquaintance of Walker’s, and of Walker’s friends. She tried for indifferent diplomacy.
”I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Trying to move past him, he moved to block her way.
“I know Walker, he’ll be finished with you soon. We don’t have to tell him about it.”
“Not interested, and, you’re married.”
Jerking away from his hand, which had begun sliding up her arm, she tried to pull away. He retaliated by gripping her arm tightly, clutching her to his body.
“This is how we do it, sweetheart. My wife’s a raving bitch, as long as she has my money, she won’t care,”
He forced her back further with the weight of his body. Waverly was now frightened, her mind was scrambling, trying to figure out how to get away from him.
A hand slammed down on the island, causing them both to jerk their heads around.
”What the fuck is going on here?”
Walker growled. Shrugging her arm loose, she hurried to Walkers side.
Kent’s eyes got hard.
“Your little one night stand propositioned me, Rike. You know how slutty these low rent women are. Don’t worry Rike, I won’t say a word to Cece about this,” he taunted.
“Are you fucking stupid, Kent?”
Walker took a menacing step toward him. Waverly reached up, placing her hand on his bicep, right over his tattoo and squeezed gently. Walker looked down, noting the fear on her face. She was trying not to show it, but she was shaken and trembling, she was pale, this mother fucker had scared her.
“This conversation is over Kent. Go find your wife, she’s had too much to drink again.”
Kent sauntered past them towards the drawing room, when he was almost at the door, Walker called out to him, “Kent, don’t ever put your hand on her again. Don’t even speak to her again.”
Waverly blew out a shaky breath, looking up at Walker tentatively, he was staring straight ahead, both hands tightly gripping the island counter. Looking over at her, his eyes softened slightly, reaching out he wrapped his hand over the one resting on his chest.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Walker, I didn’t...”
His other hand came up as he turned her fully to him.
“I know you didn’t.”
It was all he said before he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her softly, then pulling her into his arms, his hands gripping handfuls of her hair, burying his fingers in her long wavy strands.
Pulling back from her, he looked intently into her eyes asking again, “Okay?” She nodded, it was all she was capable of. He had arranged all of this so she could meet his friends, it had been a disaster, her eyes welled with tears as his thumb came up gliding back and forth over her cheekbone He dipped his head resting his forehead against hers.
“I am so sorry that he did that to you,” he breathed into her.
Waverly was overwhelmed, the dinner, the unfriendly women, the creepy men. She tried to hold it all back by taking a deep breath but the tears just leaked out sliding down her cheeks and becoming full blown crying.
Walker was stunned, this woman, so strong, a fighter her entire life, laid low by some catty bitches and horny men, he felt her pain right in his heart. It was his job to protect her and he had failed.
“Baby, baby it’s okay,” he crooned to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest, stroking her hair as she cried into his shirt. He had never really been comforted by anyone in his life so he wasn’t entirely sure what the correct protocol was in this situation but he thought she might be a lot more comfortable if they weren’t standing in his kitchen.
Scooping her up he carried her to his bedroom setting her gently down on his bed. After climbing next to her and sliding back so he was seated, reclining at the headboard he pulled her back into his arms, her head resting on his chest. Her crying receded, to a quiet hiccuping cough while he softly slid his hand up and down her back. Feeling his shirt dampening, he occasionally reached over to hand her a tissue from his nightstand. After a deep shuddering breath, she raised her head, and choked out, “I’m, I’m so sorry for falling apart on you like this, again.”
The tears started again, “I’m just tired and it’s, it’s just been a long week.”
Starting to pull away from him, she announced, “I’m just going to head home...”
Walker pulled her back to him, “No, Wave, I want you to stay here.”
“I really need to go, I don’t really feel like having, you know...so I need to go,” she stammered out, squirming to escape his hold again.
“I don’t give a fuck if we have sex or not. You’re not leaving.”
She sighed, “All right.”
It killed him to see her so defeated and timid, he had never felt so protective of anyone in his entire life, somehow he would make that fucker Kent pay for hurting her.
Walker got her a bottle of water, handed it to her ordering her to drink, then searched his walk in closet for a tee shirt he thought would be comfortable for her to sleep in. After removing her shoes, he helped her stand up and unzipped her dress, slipping her into the tee shirt. When he saw the beautiful, lacy thong, and bra she had on under the dress, he had to turn away from her, biting the inside of his cheek, the last thing she needed right now was to see him hard for her - again. Heading into his closet, he undressed, and threw on some black pajama bottoms, no shirt and climbed back in the bed.
Rustling around in his bathroom, he could hear drawers opening and closing, finally finished, she came out and announced, “I hope it’s okay, I used your toothbrush.”
Standing there in the low glow of the bathroom light, sleepy eyes, hair down and messy, no makeup left. His tee shirt stopped just at the top of her thighs, she looked just like she had the day he met her, young, beautiful and innocent. His dick wanted desperately to fuck her, his mind wanted to make it clear to her that she was his, he willed his hard on away. “Not a problem, Wave.”
Hesitantly, she padded over and crawled in, he leaned over and flipped off the light, she was sound asleep already. He rearranged her so that she was cuddled up next to him. She had cried again, she was sound asleep, she had not enjoyed the evening at all, she didn’t want to have sex. He was okay with that, he was happy just to have her there next to him. He lay there feeling so comfortable with all of it, and that was making him very uncomfortable.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
At seven a.m., Walker bolted awake. He was alone. Shit, shit, fuck. She was gone. This damn girl was like an untethered kite bobbing around in a strong wind while he followed her around trying to grab the fucking string.
Rubbing his hand over his stubbled face, the scent of her perfume drifted over from her p
illow, dropping back down, he rolled to his side and grabbed it, taking a deep breath of the floral, coconutty scent. Jesus, how much of a pussy was he, laying here smelling a fucking pillow?
Last night was a goddamn disaster, although it definitely justified his preference for solitude. They were his own people, came from the same schools, ate at the same restaurants, went to the same events, and he disliked most of them. What did that say for him? Waverly was right, they were assholes. His plan to show her that she was just as good as people born with a silver spoon in their mouth had failed spectacularly. She may have learned that money didn’t necessarily make for a good person, but she had been hurt in the process, and he had been the one to orchestrate it.
The only upside to the night was the increase in the level of intimacy between them. She had seemed to trust him. It had helped, of course, that he had wanted her to stay with him, even without sex. Seeing her so upset, at his doing, had made it easy, well easier, to put that aside for the night. He recognized that in part, he was trying to prove to her that he wasn’t like the rest of the blue blood assholes attendance last night. Overall, he could feel that they were drawing away from the friends with benefits arrangement, which logically meant that John Whatshisfuck, Benn, and any other dickhead who looked her way, would soon be a distant memory – for both of them.
Reaching over to his phone on the nightstand, his mood lifted a bit seeing that she had left him a text; “Thanks for everything.”
The fuck? She just fuck buddied him, again, and he hadn’t even gotten the fuck part. There was no goddamn way he would allow her to treat what was going on between them as a one night stand.
She had cried in his arms last night.
He had comforted her, and he didn’t comfort... Anyone.
Waverly Amelia Matthews did not get to just skip away, tossing a ‘thanks for a good time’, at him. He found the entire situation degrading.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Walker dismissed his entire development team from his conference room, reprimanding them for lack of focus, in truth they were all on task, he was the one who couldn’t focus. Staring at his laptop, he tried to remember what he used to spend time thinking about before all of his mental energy was spent thinking about her. If she ever wasn’t a part of his life, he might have to take up Soduku, start another business, get a fucking pet. Find, whatever it was that other men did, Other men, whose minds were pussy whipped by women who wouldn’t call or text them. His legendary patience had run out. No text, no phone call, smoke signal. Nothing.
It definitely hadn’t helped, that the prick reporter had been able to finagle a photo of him with Cece, at the annual VanderCrest fundraiser. Cece knew damn well that he hated photos, that he never gave interviews, but she had insisted, in front of a group of their peers, he would have looked like a complete dick if hadn’t agreed. They were only discussing his donation but the photo looked damn incriminating. It was now three days, Three long, frustrating, days. He was halfway tempted to go find her, lock her in a room and force her to stay with him until he said she could leave. It wasn’t just the sex, he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could go without sex, he sure as fuck didn’t want to, but he could.
Maybe everything that drew him to her, would finally wear off. Maybe his wanting her would stop. Maybe he was a dumbfuck asshole.
Ann was no help to him, she was on lock down with any information about Waverly, the women had effectively circled the wagons. Closeting himself in his office to suffer in peace, and avoid the glaring looks that Ann kept sending his way. Earlier, she had wordlessly slammed the paper with the fundraiser photo on his desk and then stomped out.
Staying late into the night, he buried himself in work to forget about her, after packing up to head home he heard his phone alert him to an incoming text. Still nothing from Waverly, this was from Ann, his screen showed a photo of Waverly, with that dick head John Campbell, at the Contemporary Dance Theatre. Stupid, fucking, Motherfucker, he just could not win with this girl. He threw his briefcase across the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
“You don’t love us anymore,” Kate sing songed to her, while Benn watched smirking. Waverly grinned at her and rolled her eyes.
“Kate, you idiot, we’re together every single day, and I have lunch with one of you every day, by the way, why have the three of us not been eating together?”
Waverly thought for a moment.
“Have you set up a rotation schedule to watch over me, to keep me away from Walker? You’re trying to make sure that I follow through on my date with John, aren’t you?”
Benn and Kate shared a conspiratorial look. They had all seen the photo of Walker and Twin Set Cece, and they were pissed on her behalf. Waverly wasn’t too proud to admit to them, that she was embarrassed, and hurt by it. Not very rational on her part since they had no agreement, they had no relationship – there was nothing between them, other than sex. She had stopped to drop off some papers for Benn and chat with Kate for a while, on her way to her date with John.
“Well, you and Walker aren’t exclusive, so I say, go ahead and sleep with whoever you want. Revenge fuck, right?”
“I’m not going to sleep with John just because Walker went out with someone else. That’s juvenile,” she scolded Kate.
Waverly noticed Benn glaring at Kate.
“Jesus Fuck, Kate, maybe the guy has an explanation, it was a photo of them standing together, not fucking on the table. For all, we know it wasn’t even a date.”
Waverly’s eyebrows rose, the two of them were now studiously avoiding looking at each other. Again, Waverly wondered if there was some subtext between them that she wasn’t aware of. Soon, she was going to have to get Kate really drunk and see if there was something going on.
“Kate, you do realize that I’m leaving here to go on a date myself, right? How can I expect Walker not to go out with anyone else, if I’m going out with someone else?”
“Way, I heard the entire dinner party, fiasco story, things changed between the two of you, you said that yourself. You stayed the night. He wanted you to stay. And, you cuddled.”
Kate argued, “Besides, you’ve had this date scheduled for what, two weeks?”
“Gahhh,” Waverly groaned, “Stop, you’re making my head spin. I don’t even want to go on this date, and you’re making it worse.”
Benn snorted at Kate.
It didn’t stop Kate.
“What if he fucked her, what if he fucked Twin Set? If he did, then I think you should fuck somebody too.”
“Is this your way of telling me that you want to have sex with me, Kate?”
She waggled her eyebrows at Kate trying to lighten the mood.
Her relationship with Walker didn’t have a label, they had just been doing worked for them. If she was honest with herself, she was dismayed, between the dinner fiasco, the Cece photo, and this date tonight, things didn’t seem to be working so well for them.
Benn jumped into the conversation again.
“Way, admit it, you are into Walker. I don’t think that the guy deserves you, and I’d give you more shit about it but, I know you won’t listen to me. Kate, take off your shirt and have sex with Waverly”
That was classic Benn, a profound statement, followed by a joke.
Waverly took a deep breath.
“You’re too good to me Benn. Thanks for letting me come over and whine to you both. I guess I should head out to meet John. Now you two play nice while I’m gone,” she joked, pulling herself up from the bar stool and smoothing out her dress.
It was like a sign from God that she should have canceled the date, every single thing went wrong. Her cab was late, so she was late, and she hated being late. The waiter spilled her red wine on her. Her new shoes were causing a blister. The Contemporary Dance event was boring, John was boring, very nice, but boring.
She gave hi
m the it’s-not-you-it’s-me-speech, which was true. John, being very nice, but boring, took it well.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Waverly felt confused, as she climbed into the cab. Exhausted from pretending on the date, and emotionally confused over Walker and whatever was going on between them. Thoughts of his dinner party kept popping into her head, how uncomfortable she had been the entire night, hideous Buckley Kent propositioning her, and the catty Stepford women.
Watching the glow of the streetlights go by, she wondered if she had been right to run away from him the next morning. How embarrassing to melt down in front of him like that, the twin set wearers would never have broken down and cried like that. Of course, they were probably so botoxed that their tear ducts didn’t work anymore. Chuckling to herself, she slid off her shoes, rubbing one aching foot over the other, after the night she had just endured she would leave the damn shoes off and go barefoot. Resting her head back, she just stared at the dirty roof of the cab, hen her phone chirped, she ignored it, not in the mood to chat.
It was a nice thing that Walker did for her, arranging the dinner party. His intentions were good, even though it hadn’t gone well, she truly appreciated the effort. His anger toward, Buckley Kent, had been sweet, that he hadn’t doubted her loyalty, meant that he trusted her, right?
She remembered how Walker had consoled her as she had cried, how he wanted her to stay, even though there would be no sex. It had seemed to her that this was developing into something more, and she needed to admit to herself that she wanted more with him. Of course, she figured that out right after seeing the photo of him with Twin Set Cece. Did he want Twin Set Cece? Did he want a woman like that? Was she just a diversion until he realized that he wanted a woman like that? Did she still want more from him?
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