The irony of the situation didn't escape my notice. Everyone in the office, by Ben's estimation, now thought we were basking in some not-so-furtive afterglow, when in reality, I wanted to tear my hair out from frustration.
That was it. I couldn't let this happen again. As much fun as it might've been in the moment, if it wasn't going to go any further, I had to put a stop to it.
No more funny business.
"I should probably go," I said, quietly, after moving the food around for what felt like ages.
Ben nodded, tersely. "I'll call you tomorrow."
No more funny business. And that was final.
***
I sat with my phone in my hand for a long time.
I had to tell my parents. The longer I put it off, the harder it was going to be. Before I hit the button, I took a series of deep breaths, rehearsing my story over and over again in my head. It felt so wrong, doing this, but I kept reminding myself it was for the greater good. My parents wanted me to be successful, and this was how I was going to accomplish it.
The conversation was full of awkward pauses, long silences, and confused questions. They sounded hurt, particularly my mother, but not as much as I'd feared. I realized that I was still hearkening back to those days when I was still the center of their world.
Not that I wasn't, now. But it was different. On some level, they could accept that I'd moved on, that there were important parts of my life that they hadn't been privy to.
"Are you sure, honey?" my mom kept saying, with concern in her voice. "I mean, how well do you really know this man?"
I had to keep reassuring her with lies, telling her how well I'd gotten to know him - the real him, and how much he appreciated being with someone who didn't care about his money. How kind and considerate he was, how smart, how successful.
While most parents would have been thrilled to hear that their daughter was seeing a billionaire, I could tell that wasn't a selling point for mine. They were thinking of the people they'd known, the people we'd both known. They thought they already knew him. And despite how hard I tried to convince them they were wrong, I knew they weren't.
Not really. Ben might be charming, he might seem different, but he wasn't. He lived in a bubble. Hell, I'd seen it firsthand. He snapped his fingers, and whatever he wanted just appeared. Who else in the city could get a lunch order that fast? And how? It didn't even seem humanly possible, but to him, anything less was unacceptable.
So it wasn't really his fault. You'd have to be some kind of saint to avoid getting caught up in that lifestyle. After all, he was born into it. So he had no perspective - of course he didn't. He could hardly be expected to. But that didn't make it any less irritating.
My parents didn't want to get off the phone, but I finally managed to pry myself away with a lie about how busy I was. Really, I had nothing to do for the rest of the day. Ben obviously didn't want to be around me, and that was definitely for the best. As much my brain flew into wild fantasies of showing up at his house, preferably wearing something skimpy under a long coat...
Okay, so maybe "busy" was a lie. But I was definitely in need a freezing cold shower.
Chapter Sixteen
Ben
It wasn't the first time I jerked off in my private bathroom, but it was the first time I really felt guilty about it.
I never should have let things go so far. But she was intoxicating, standing so close, talking about what we'd theoretically look like if we'd just had sex. How was I supposed to pretend like I didn't want her?
So, after she was gone, I took matters into my own hands. It was a bittersweet relief. Was it going to be like this for our entire marriage? I was pretty sure I wouldn't survive. Or at least, not without doing some serious damage to myself.
I'd already decided it was too risky to keep seeing other people while we were married. Discretion could be bought, to an extent, but so could information. Daria and her bloodsucking lawyer would leave no stone unturned. I wasn't going to end up like Eliot Spitzer.
But of course, that meant two years of celibacy. I hadn't actually thought about that, and now I was cursing my own blissful state of denial. It would be one thing if Jenna wasn't so fucking sexy. It would be yet another thing if she didn't obviously want to get into my pants. But with those two things combined, I didn't know how long I could hold out.
I'd practically dared her to kiss my neck. For God's sake. Why was I so desperate for her to touch me? Why did I think I'd be able to stop there, and get away unscathed? She certainly had no willpower. If my phone hadn't gone off, that little game of chicken would've ended with her ass on the bathroom counter and her legs wrapped around my waist. The only way she could possibly get sexier was if she was screaming my name.
Get a grip, Chase.
I laughed at myself, the way you laugh when you hit that spot on your elbow too hard. The way you laugh when a massage therapist digs into that spot next to your shoulder blade where you carry the weight of the world. The way you laugh when you just got the wind knocked out of you.
It wasn't funny. Not at all. Especially not because I couldn't stop picturing her raised eyebrow, her sardonic smile, if only she were still here. If she could read my thoughts.
Get a grip? Looks like you just did, Mr. Chase.
Oh, this was bad.
***
I gave myself a few days to get some distance. The concept of a "cooldown period" was something that had eluded me with Daria, so I had high hopes that it would help me behave more like a human being this time. No one at the office asked me about Jenna, but I did get a lot of knowing looks. Some of the interns seemed more nervous than usual.
"Why is everyone so jumpy, Carol?" I asked her, when I stopped to drop off some inter-office mail.
She gave me a long-suffering look. "She's an unknown factor, Mr. Chase. There's nothing more frightening than an unknown factor."
If only she knew.
"Well, throw them a pizza party or something, will you? It's making me nervous just to look at them."
Carol looked at me over her glasses. "A pizza party, Mr. Chase?"
I hesitated, halfway back to my office. "What, do people not like pizza anymore?"
"These are MBA students, Mr. Chase. Not a church youth group. Of course they like pizza, but they're not going to like the implication. They want to be treated like adults."
"Fine," I said, irritated. "An Adderall party, then. Whatever it's going to take to convince them it's business as usual. They're making me nervous just looking at them."
"Doing something radically different to the status quo seems like the opposite of that," she said. "Just give them time. They'll adjust."
Easier said than done. I was about to grind my teeth into a powder as it was, and the last thing I needed was a bunch of jumpy interns. On second thought, an Adderall party was probably a bad idea.
Right on cue, my jaw popped audibly, and I realized I was clenching every muscle in my face. I made a concerted effort to relax.
And then, my phone buzzed with an incoming message.
I thought we should probably see each other soon.
Jenna was reaching out to me? What the hell happened?
My fingers were typing before I had a chance to overthink it. Run out of batteries?
I pictured her smiling and rolling her eyes, but blushing a little, prettily, because well, you know.
Don't flatter yourself. I just thought it would look suspicious if we spent too much time apart.
She was right. There was even a party coming up that would be a perfect opportunity for us to appear in public together, and I'd be stupid to pass that up. My presence wasn't mandatory, but it would certainly get the buzz going.
I hit the "call" button and held the phone up to my ear. She picked up on the first ring.
"Just to get this out of the way, I'm wearing old sweatpants and a Snoopy tee-shirt," she said. The sound of her voice sent a wave of warmth through my chest.
I t
ried hard to ignore it. "Are you doing anything on Friday night?"
Jenna made a small noise of acknowledgement while she flipped through her calendar. "I have Laura until six o'clock," she said. "Will that work?"
"Sure. We'll be fashionably late." I cleared my throat. "I can pick you up right from the Thornes. I'll have your dress sent over there, if you think you can get ready while you're watching her."
"Okay." She swallowed audibly. "Can't I just wear the same dress as before?"
I chuckled. "But why would you?"
"I don't know. You seemed to like it." She was keeping her tone innocent, but that just made it more alluring.
"It wasn't the dress," I said.
For a moment, my heart stopped beating, then picked up again at double-time.
Did I actually say that?
"I think it was the dress," she said. I could hear her shifting, sighing, like maybe she was reclining in bed. "At least, a little bit."
All right. Okay. So, where was the harm in admitting we were attracted to each other? It wasn't like we didn't already both know.
"The dress just made it harder to ignore," I said, glancing at my desk phone, and stabbing the "Do Not Disturb" button. Of course I had a Do Not Disturb button. The whole "Carol, hold my calls" thing was just for show.
"Ben?"
"Hmm?"
"I lied. I'm not wearing a Snoopy tee-shirt."
My mouth was very dry. "What about the sweats?"
"Nope." She sighed, softly, then laughed a little. "I'm wearing that dress. I really like it, you know."
Shit, shit, shit. I was instantly hard, instantly throbbing, instantly wanting.
"Do you like the dress, or do you like remembering the way I looked at you in it?" My voice was slipping a few octaves lower, quieter, without meaning to.
"Both," she said. There was another rustling noise, like she was sitting up. "We probably shouldn't do this, right?" Her voice was regretful, but I didn't like the tone of finality.
"It's fine." I glanced over my shoulder, as if anyone could see me from the other skyscraper windows. "What could possibly be the harm? Other than you running out of batteries, of course."
"No, I'm sorry," she said, in a rush, "I really can't do this. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you. I just..."
"It's fine," I reassured her, even as I cursed silently, gripping the arm of my chair so hard my knuckles turned white. "We'll just pretend this never happened."
"Thank you," she exhaled. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
This time, I did it right at my desk, and I didn't feel guilty in the slightest. She started it, after all.
But still, there was vague sense of unease, settling into my chest just as soon as the momentary bliss of release faded. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Things were spiraling out of control.
Once I'd washed my hands, caught my breath, and reassembled myself into something presentable, it still took me a few minutes to remember the Do Not Disturb button. I pushed it warily, and the whole thing immediately lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Sir?" Carol never buzzed directly into my intercom unless it was an emergency. I braced myself.
"Yes?"
"The senior partners want to know when you're planning on showing up for the board meeting."
Shit.
***
True to my word, I didn't mention it.
Not with my words, at any rate. But when I looked at her, sashaying down the staircase in that sleek black dress that flowed like water over her curves, I couldn't think about anything else.
We almost had phone sex. We almost had phone sex. We almost had phone sex. You called me specifically with the intention of turning me on. You wanted it. You wanted to have phone sex. With me.
I didn't exactly blame her for chickening out. Not after how quickly I'd cut off our real-life encounter that almost ended in disaster. Blissful, messy disaster. It was understandable. She knew, as well as I did, that it was a Bad Idea to really get involved.
The dress dipped down low in the front, and even lower in the back, but she wore it unselfconsciously. Her attitude was no different than it had been last time she'd climbed into the backseat of the limo beside me.
"Hi," she said, scooting in and kissing me on the cheek. Her hand cupped the side of my neck, pulling me closer. My whole body tensed, before I forced myself to go with the flow. She was right. We had to put on a show for Tim, too. Not that he'd talk. But the more people who were convinced, the better.
"Hi." I didn't want to talk - couldn't talk to her without bringing up the one thing I wasn't allowed to discuss. My jaw ached, my head ached, fucking everything ached. Including, yes, those. It didn't matter how many times I came thinking about her lounging in that dress, in bed, touching herself. I still wanted more. Needed more. I'd thought I was prepared for tonight, but I already felt like I was on a hair-trigger.
All I could think about was putting up the partition, and dragging her over my knee for a well-deserved spanking. She might not have meant to be a tease, but oh, she was. She'd be so wet for me, my punishment sending her to heights she didn't even known existed. I'd spank her and finger her until she was sobbing with the need for release, and then I'd lick her off my fingers and send her into the party aching and empty. Give her a taste of what it was like to really be teased. I'd be in agony too, but it wouldn't matter. Seeing her meet all of my high-society so-called friends with flushed cheeks and rubbery legs, with the smell of her arousal smeared all over her thighs, would be worth it.
Of course, I wouldn't be able to deny her all night. Eventually I'd pull her into some secluded (but not too secluded) room and fuck her senseless, with my hand on her mouth so no one would hear her scream.
"Are you okay?"
I jolted back to reality.
"Yes," I lied, shifting in my seat. She was pressed right up against my thigh; there was no possible way to adjust my ridiculous erection without her noticing. Whether or not she could see it now, I didn't dare speculate. "Just had a long day. Somebody pissed in the senior partners' Cheerios."
"Well, you don't look it," she said. "Guess that witch hazel really works, huh? You'll be the belle of the ball."
She was grinning, but there was a real appreciation behind her voice. I wished I had the presence of mind to enjoy the complement. I did look good. But all I could think about was my dick.
"No, I'm pretty sure that's you," I said.
"Right." She rolled her eyes. "Amongst all the billionaire heiresses and their top-dollar plastic surgery, I'm sure I'll shine like a diamond."
She had no idea how true it was, but I couldn't find the words to explain it to her. Especially not now. We still had nearly half an hour left in our trip, and that was assuming some kind of divine intervention with the traffic. How could I possibly survive?
I started balancing chemical equations in my head.
By the time we arrived, I'd managed to will myself down to half-mast, and Jenna had subtly scooted to towards the other side of the car. I took a deep breath and reassured myself that this night was going to be just fine, even if it didn't end with my fingers in her mouth and my -
"We're here," Tim announced, just trying to break the awkward silence. I thanked him, and jumped out of the car to open Jenna's door before she had a chance to. This time, she actually let me. Mindful that my groin was at eye-level as she slid out of the car, I kept the door between us so she wouldn't notice the lingering effects of my little fantasy.
It was a pretty nice venue. Nothing special, but I could tell from Jenna's expression that she'd never dreamed of setting foot in a place like this. It positively dripped wealth and excess, without being outright tacky. But it was very old money. High ceilings, crystal chandeliers, gold accents, even a damn cherub fountain out front.
Jenna was gaping. Wanting to steady and guide her, I laid my hand gently on the small of her back. The naked small of her back. She shivered a little at the touch of my hand, like it was too cold for
her sensitive skin. My dick twitched.
Nope. Nope nope nope.
I moved my hand to her arm and returned to my equations.
We breezed through introductions predictably, as I slowly grew to hate everyone in the room for staring at her like that. There was an air of suspicion, of this one doesn't belong. But there was something else in many of the men's eyes, and I hated that even more. Why the hell didn't I choose a more modest dress? Sure, she would've ended up looking like a schoolmarm compared to the rest of the women here, but at least I wouldn't be left wishing I'd strapped a knife to my ankle. Appreciating a beautiful woman was one thing, but some of these assholes were just being disrespectful.
"Everybody's staring at me," she murmured, as we made our way around the room.
"Told you," I said. "Belle of the ball."
She laughed softly. "I'm sure that's not why. They think I'm a gold-digger."
"They're not thinking about anything except the way you look in that dress," I said, heatedly. "Trust me."
Her little giggle warmed something in my chest. "Even the women?"
"Especially the women," I said. "Every single one in this room is at least bi-curious right now."
"I'd say the reverse is true for you, but I don't know if you'd take that as a complement." She grinned at me. "So I'll just say you look damn good, Benjamin Chase."
"Thank you," I said, sincerely. "Now, how does a drink sound? There's an open bar."
"Seriously?" Her eyes widened. "God damn it. No one gets more free stuff than the people who need it the least."
"I've been saying that for years," I told her, heading for the glittering wall of expensive liquor. "If there were some way to donate all of this Grey Goose to the starving orphans, believe me, I would."
"Vodka martini," she said, when she reached the bar. "Dirty. So dirty I should be arrested for drinking it in public."
The bartender smiled politely. "Very good, ma'am."
"I was hoping for a laugh, but you know, that'll do," she muttered, as I settled next to her. Our hips were almost touching, again. I was struck with the insanely innocent urge to just hold her hand.
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