Accidental Fiancé

by R. R. Banks

  The sound of the heater kicking on rumbles through the house. It's February in Port Safira, which means it is damn cold outside at this time of the morning. Knowing that makes me want to get out of bed even less. I'm curled up in my warm, cozy blanket, and there's a big part of me that wants to stay here the rest of the day. To do that though, I'd need coffee and a good book – which means, I'd have to climb out of my bed for both.

  “Damn it,” I mutter to myself.

  As I lay there, I start to think about Liam. He's such a mystery to me. I see the face he shows to the public. He's cold. Aloof. Every bit the professional businessman. And yet, I've also seen a different side of him – his private face. I imagine not many people have seen that particular face of his.

  What I told Skyler is true – I have no idea how he feels about me. I can say with near certainty that he wants to fuck me. Aside from that, if I had to guess, I'd say that he's at least mildly intrigued by me as a person. Just as I am with him. I have no idea what this strange thing is between us, but I can tell there's something there. Defining that something, however, is the problem.

  The other problem, of course, is that I don't know if I'm ready to be in a romantic relationship. I don't know if I want to be. And given the fact that Liam is coming off a pretty traumatic divorce, I can't imagine that he is dying to be in one either.

  Which leaves me where exactly?

  “I have no damn idea,” I say to the empty room.

  I push all the unpleasant thoughts out of my mind and try to focus on something else. Which, of course, is another stalling tactic to allow myself a little more time under the warm covers. I know all the good tricks.

  I run through the list of things I need to do today. Finish the inventory that I've been dragging my feet on. Contact a few vendors. And of course, the most unpleasant task of the day – touch base with my accountant. I've been putting it off for ages, but I need to see where I'm at financially. I know it's not going to be good and in the back of my mind, I have a feeling that things are starting to build to a head.

  As much as I'd rather deny it, I may be forced to make a tough decision at some point in the not too distant future. I sigh and push those thoughts away as well. I'd rather not think about it right now. The time is coming, I can't deny it, but that time isn't upon me just yet.

  I do my best to clear my mind of all thought and try to relax for a little bit. One thing, however, keeps intruding into my pseudo-Zen like state – Liam Anderson. In my mind's eye, I can see his face. Hear his voice. My sensory recall kicks in and I breathe in his musky scent – a very manly fragrance.

  The uninvited assault on my senses then takes my mind to another place – to the bookstore and what we did there together. As I recall the feeling of his kisses on my lips, I feel a warmth spreading throughout my belly. And when I remember the feeling of his mouth on my sensitive parts, and his fingers inside of me, the warmth spreads down into the hot, suddenly wet, center of me.

  Biting my bottom lip, I close my eyes and revel in the memories that are washing over me. As if it has a mind of its own, my hand slides down under the covers, running over my breasts, and slipping down into the waistband of my pajama bottoms.

  As I remember the sensations Liam wrought in me with his mouth and tongue, I touch myself through my panties – panties that are soaked through already. The touch of my fingers sets off an explosion of sensation inside of me. Wave after wave of desire and need crash down over me.

  Pulling my panties to the side, I trail my fingertips across my wet, swollen lips. A soft moan escapes me as I circle my clit with my fingers, imagining it's Liam. In my mind's eye, I look down and see him with his face buried between my thighs, using his mouth, tongue, and fingers to pleasure me. I rub my clit harder and faster, the warmth inside of me blooming into an inferno of lust.

  I remember the feeling of his cock in my hands. So hard. So thick. So long. I wince as I bite my bottom lip hard enough to cause me a flash of pain. I hear his voice commanding me to bend over the counter and I picture myself doing as he tells me. His hands are strong and rough upon my skin as he slides them up my thighs, pushing my skirt up around my waist.

  I imagine myself looking back at him over my shoulder, seeing the look of hunger and desire in his eyes. I feel him as he steps forward, taking that glorious cock in his hand and guiding it to my opening, dripping wet for him.

  I picture Liam driving his cock into me at the same moment I plunge two fingers into my pussy. My eyes open wide and I cry out as unknown sensations erupt within me.

  “Yes, Liam,” I call out, my voice echoing around my empty room.

  I drive my fingers into my pussy hard and fast – imagining Liam pumping that hard rod of his into me the same way. I hear the throaty growl in his voice, see the passion in his eyes as he fucks me. In my fantasy, he's rough and commanding and I obey his every wish, begging him to keep fucking me.

  Sliding my other hand down, I rub my clit furiously as I keep driving my fingers into my pussy. I'm so wet, the sounds coming from between my legs as I finger myself are as loud as my cries.

  Fantasy Liam grabs my hair and pulls it hard, yanking my head back so I'm staring up at the ceiling. His voice echoes through my mind – you like this, don't you? Tell me you like this. Tell me you want my cock. Tell me, Paige.

  “Yes,” I moan. “I want this. I want your cock.”

  I slip a third finger into my pussy, feeling myself being stretched open wider. I squeeze my eyes shut, the slight pinch of pain blending with the pleasure surging through me. I drive my fingers harder and faster, banging my tight little opening like I want Liam to.

  The pressure inside of me builds quickly and as I drive my fingers in one final time, the dam bursts. My body tightens sharply and explodes in pleasure. My breathing is ragged as I cry out, practically screaming as my orgasm grips me hard. With my fingers still working, I'm writhing beneath my comforter, lightning bolts of ecstasy running along every nerve ending, setting my body on fire.

  Slowly, my orgasm begins to fade, leaving me trembling and out of breath. I lay still and feel my body going limp. A smile crosses my face and a nervous little giggle bursts from my mouth. Heat flares within my cheeks and a sudden wave of embarrassment washes over me – despite the fact that I'm alone in my room and nobody knows what I just did or what I fantasized about.

  I let out a cry of surprise when my second alarm goes off, startling me. Reaching over to turn it off, I feel like a fool. A stupid grin on my face, I throw back the covers and dash to the bathroom, turning on the water, letting it grow hot. I strip out of my pajama bottoms and then look at myself in the mirror for a moment, my gaze locking onto my panties.

  When the steam starts to fill my small bathroom and it gets to feeling like a sauna, I step beneath the nearly scalding water and start my day.

  With memories of Liam floating through my mind – as well as a pretext for going up to see Liam that just popped into my mind – I start my day with a smile.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Liam

  I'm working at my desk at home, Hemingway asleep on his bed in the corner, when the house intercom buzzes. I set down the offer sheets for a few new properties I'm looking at acquiring and look at the intercom. I'd asked to not be disturbed as I'm working on putting together a deal – one I know I should probably talk to Paige about, but one that also makes me nervous to mention.

  I sigh and punch the button on the intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Anderson,” Janice says. “Ms. Samuels is here to see you.”

  I look at the intercom for a moment, surprised. I wasn't expecting Paige to come by. I'd thought about going down into town and stopping by her shop, but it had just been a thought. I honestly wasn't sure if she wanted to see me or not, given that she hadn't contacted me after what happened between us.

  “Mr. Anderson?”

  Janice's voice snaps me out of my reverie. “Yes, sorry,” I say. “Please, send her in.”


  “Yes, sir.”

  I lean back in my seat and wait. A few moments later, I hear Janice's sharp, almost military-esque footfalls and the softer sounds of Paige's footsteps coming down the hallway. Hemingway looks up, suddenly interested in our visitors.

  Janice opens the door and holds it for Paige, who steps inside and gives my house manager a shy smile.

  “Thank you,” she says to Janice.

  “Pleasure to see you again, ma'am,” Janice says.

  Janice steps out and closes the door behind her. Hemingway is off his bed in an instant, bounding over to Paige, his tongue flopping out of his mouth, his entire body wagging. Paige indulges him, kneeling down and scratching him behind the ears.

  “I don't even get that kind of a greeting from him,” I say. “Clearly, you're the preferred flavor of the month.”

  She looks at me and I see the color blossom in her cheeks. It's only then that I realize there are other ways that comment could be interpreted. I give her a small smile, letting her choose whichever interpretation she prefers.

  She's wearing a pale blue dress that falls to her knees and a white cardigan sweater and has her hair held back with a white headband, letting her dark locks spill down over her shoulders. Paige looks like the living embodiment of the girl-next-door chic. It's very appealing. Very sexy. And as I sit there, watching her, I feel my cock begin to stiffen.

  “Not that I mind you stopping by – in fact, you're welcome anytime, Paige,” I start. “But what brings you by?”

  She gives Hemingway one last scratch and stands up. My boy looks at her with a pout, wanting the attention to go on forever. I take a couple of treats out of the jar on my desk and toss them toward his bed. He gets the hint and walks over, dropping back down on to his bed with a loud sigh. He nibbles on his treats, making it more than clear that he'd prefer Paige's hands on him.

  Me too, buddy, I think to myself. Me too.

  She walks over and takes a seat in the chair across the desk from me. I watch with interest as she crosses her long, shapely legs. And I can't help but recall the feel of the soft skin of those thighs pressed against my face. Paige catches me looking and tugs the hem of her dress down a bit, the color in her cheeks deepening.

  She clears her throat. “I actually came by because I needed to talk to you about something.”

  Judging by the look on her face, I don't suspect it's a conversation I'm going to particularly enjoy. She looks serious. Perhaps even grim. Given this is the first contact we've had since that day, I have a feeling it's about our tryst in the bookstore. And if I was a betting man, judging by her serious demeanor, I’d say she’s here to tell me that it can't happen again.

  Yeah, I'm going to have to change her mind about that.

  “Sure,” I say. “What's up?”

  She fidgets with her hands in her lap and looks away, her expression changing to one of uncertainty. She seems to be wavering. Maybe, she's still on the fence about things between us. And maybe, I won't have to do all that much convincing, after all.

  Paige finally looks up at me and opens her mouth to speak – only to be interrupted by a knock on my office door. She quickly looks back down at her hands and nibbles on her lower lip.

  “Come in,” I call.

  The door opens and Janice steps through. “Sir, I've asked Daniel to take me down into town to pick up some things for the house,” she says. “I hope that's okay.”

  “That's fine,” I say.

  “Is there anything in particular you need me to pick up, sir?”

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat and clear my throat. “Yes, actually,” I say. “Can you pick up – the stuff? I'm just about out.”

  Paige looks up and arches her eyebrow at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It's silly and it's stupid. There really is no reason for me to hesitate to tell Janice what I would like her to pick up. Except for the fact that Paige is sitting there and for some reason, I don't want her to know what “the stuff” consists of.

  I know it seems bizarre, but for some reason, it feels like we’d be entering a level of intimacy I don’t think I’m ready for.

  “The thing, sir?” Janice asks.

  “Yes, you know,” I say. “The stuff.”

  “The stuff?”

  I give Janice a long, level look. And I can see by the small grin she's trying to suppress that she knows exactly what I'm talking about, but is choosing to rake me over the coals in front of Paige. I arch my eyebrow at her and give her a menacing look – which only seems to make it more difficult for her to suppress her smile. Paige, in the meantime, is watching the exchange with keen interest.

  “Yes,” I say. “The stuff.”

  “Oh, right. Rocky Road ice cream and a package of Double-Stuf Oreos. I'll be sure to pick it up for you,” she says. “We'll be gone a few hours, please call if you require anything else.”

  I hang my head as Janice turns and leaves my office, closing the door behind her. Not that I can't still hear her laughter echoing down the hallway. She often comes across as dry and humorless, but Janice has a wicked sense of humor and a razor-sharp wit. She often makes me laugh with her subtle digs and commentary. She's a lot like Alice in that way.

  I'm not used to her turning those things on me. And why she chose to do it in front of Paige is something I'm going to have to talk to her about. When I look up, she's staring at me, the same sort of amused grin upon her lips that had been on Janice's. I can tell that she's trying to hold in her laughter.

  “Rocky Road ice cream and Oreos, huh?” she asks after a long, awkward moment.

  I shrug and try to play it off. “Sure,” I say. “Like everybody else on this planet, I enjoy a little sweet treat in the evenings. No big deal.”

  “No, of course not,” she says. “I'm just surprised, that's all.”

  “Surprised?” I ask. “That I enjoy ice cream?”

  “No, not that,” she replies, her smile widening. “I just figured you would enjoy something a little more decadent and exotic. You know, something a little more refined and sophisticated. I see rich people in the movies always eating these bizarre desserts, so I just figured –”

  “There you go stereotyping again, Paige,” I say. “That's not a good look for you.”

  She shrugs. “I just never figured a big, strong, Captain of Industry-type like yourself would have the same cravings as your average five-year-old,” she says, the laughter erupting from her. “I never figured a wealthy, powerful CEO like you would enjoy something so simple and ordinary.”

  “There's nothing wrong with enjoying a little simplicity in one's life,” I say.

  This time, it's my cheeks that color. I feel the heat rushing to my face and know that I'm blushing. Although, I can take a joke, so I smile along with her. Like I said, it's a silly, stupid thing to keep secret, but for some reason, it's a secret that I wanted to keep. Mostly for fear of looking like an idiot and of something like this happening – being mocked.

  “No, simplicity is a good thing,” she says. “I agree.”

  “Oh, good,” I say. “I'm so glad to hear that.”

  She narrows her eyes, her grin turning a little mischievous. “Do you watch cartoons while you enjoy your ice cream and cookies?”

  “Ha-ha,” I say. “You're a funny girl. And yeah, maybe. So, what if I do?”

  “Do you wear footie pajamas too?”

  I smile and shake my head. “If they made them in my size, I just might.”

  “Now, that is something I'd pay good money to see,” she says.

  “Yeah, you'll never have enough money for that,” I say. “Not even if you win the lottery a dozen times straight.”

  We share a laugh and a lot of the awkward tension that had saturated the air before dissipates. Her face and body seem to relax, and she looks more like she's there to have a pleasant talk and less like she's about to tell me I have cancer and just six months to live.

  “How about some coffee?” I ask.
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br />   “That'd be great.”

  We both stand, and I lead her out of the office, turning back for a moment to tell Hemingway to stay put. He, of course, lays his head down and pouts.

  Paige follows me into the kitchen and whistles low. “Wow,” she says. “This is a really nice kitchen.”

  It’s not like I do a lot of cooking, but I do dabble every now and then. It's a large space, all done in dark wood and tile. The appliances are sleek and modern. There's a long granite island in the center that has a deep sink and lots of counter space and drawers.

  I shrug. “It's a kitchen.”

  Paige runs her fingertips along the backs of the barstools that line one side of the island. I step over to the counter and pour us both a mug of coffee. I hand one to her and point to where Janice keeps the cream and sugar.

  “It's gorgeous,” she says as she fixes her coffee.

  “The realtor told me it's great for entertaining,” I say. “Not that I'd know.”

  She smiles and looks away from me, busying herself time by checking out some of the features in the kitchen.

  “You know,” she says, “people in town talk about you.”

  I shrug. “Let them,” I say. “I don't care.”

  “They even have a nickname for you,” she says. “But, it's one that doesn't really seem to fit.”

  “Oh?” I ask. “And what's my nickname?”

  She looks at me and bites her bottom lip, suddenly looking like she just got caught speaking out of turn and regrets saying anything at all.

  “If you're worried about hurting my feelings, don't be,” I say. “I don't have feelings. And I couldn't care less what people think or say about me.”

  “Because you're a big, bad CEO-type and everybody's beneath you?” she asks, a note of challenge in her voice.

  I laugh softly. “You really have a hard-on for CEO-types, don't you?” I ask. “Or is it just a grudge against the wealthy in general?”

  I see color in her cheeks again and she looks away. “I guess after dealing with people in your industry all these years, and having them try to bully me for so long, I've become a bit – jaded.”