Forbidden Fix (Executive Toy Book 6)

by Cleo Peitsche

  Then he shrugs and begins fucking me.

  This time, it’s not about my pleasure. He pinches my nipples, flicks his fingertips against my clit.

  I wince, but I get wetter.

  “Use your safe word if you need to,” he says.

  He pulls out of my pussy and shoves his cock deep into my ass, and I cry out, my body jerking. I can’t close my legs, can’t push him away.

  Oh, how easily his cock turns from an instrument of pleasure to a weapon. But I won’t use my safe word.

  Because if he really hurts me, he’ll be doing me a favor.

  And he must know that, somehow, because this isn’t the most brutal he’s been. Even now, he’s protecting me.

  My whimpers turn to moans of pleasure, and then Hawthorne… shuts off.

  Oh, he continues fucking me, but now he only stares at my breasts, which shudder and heave as he pounds me. He won’t look into my eyes.

  It makes me feel disconnected from him.

  When his orgasm takes him, he arches back and closes his eyes, shutting me out completely. Suddenly, it’s not fun anymore.

  The room is quiet in the aftermath of Hawthorne’s orgasm. Finally he pulls out, and he still won’t look at me.

  He’s going to leave, I realize. I’ve finally driven him away. I’m not even sure how we got to this point… Everything is fuzzy.

  “I’ll see you at the office,” he says, turning away.

  Romeo steps forward and claps a large hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Not yet,” he says.

  Hawthorne is stiff as he wheels to face Romeo.

  For a long, terrifying moment, I think they’re going to fight. Because of me. The idea that despite everything they’ve been through, I could ruin their friendship… It’s distressing.

  “No,” I say. “I’m sorry, Hawthorne.”

  “Please, not now,” Romeo says to me, but his eyes are locked with Hawthorne’s. The two large men continue to glare at each other, and then Slade steps between them.

  “That’s enough,” he says quietly.

  Romeo shakes his head. “I know something that neither of you do,” he says. “She loves you, Hawthorne. You fucking idiot.”

  “I know that,” he growls. “She just admitted it against her will.”

  He pivots to stare at me, and I freeze. I don’t even blink.

  The room is silent as he frees me from my restraints, tugs my skirt into place and closes the front of my shirt.

  He stares right into my eyes as he says, “She hates that she loves me.”

  Tears blur my vision.

  No, I never meant to hurt him like this.

  But I can’t bear to face him, so I turn and retrieve his jacket, which fell when he unchained me.

  I hold it out, and after a tense moment, Hawthorne accepts it, his countenance stony.

  Only then do I realize that he thinks I’m telling him to go.

  I feel my eyes widen. “I didn’t mean… Please stay, Hawthorne.”

  Romeo comes toward me, his brown eyes determined yet patient. “Lindsay, I have something to tell you, and I want you to listen without interrupting.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Ok?”

  Nervousness burning a hole in my stomach, I nod.

  “Good. Last night, we talked a bit, shared some things.”

  My face begins to heat.

  “You panicked when I talked about the future. It was the first time I ever pitied you,” he says. “You’re so strong, and you survived so much… It’s easy to forget just how damaged you are.”

  I realize I’m not breathing, and I inhale sharply.

  Slade comes behind me, wraps his arms around my body. His masculine scent settles around me.

  “You were ready to marry Slade. Then you were ready to marry Hawthorne.” When Romeo says this, my gaze cuts to Hawthorne.

  He’s looking at me in utter disbelief, and my heart bangs around wildly in my chest.

  I want to deny it, to tell him that I don’t care. Even though he’s protected me many times, I still have this urge to hide from him.

  Hawthorne judges harshly, and I don’t want him to find me wanting. It’s my pride, pure and simple: too big to swallow, to heavy to set aside.

  “I don’t pity you in general,” Romeo continues. “No one is calling you weak, so take a deep breath.” He doesn’t continue until I oblige him. “Now exhale,” he says, and I do.

  “You told Romeo that you want to marry me?” Hawthorne asks.

  I suck in another breath. Everything has gone numb.

  “What are you thinking right now?” Romeo asks me, and I jerk my gaze to his handsome face.

  My eyes feel wide, too wide, as I shake my head.

  “What do you have to lose?” Romeo asks.

  Everything.

  “We’ll wait,” he says, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest.

  They won’t have to wait long; in the end they’ll get what they want, and I know from experience that the longer I put this off, the more painful it will be, at least for me.

  “I know I’m dumb to say it…” I begin before even short, monosyllabic words abandon me.

  “For saying it, or for thinking it?” Slade asks, his voice barely bigger than a whisper.

  “Both,” I admit. “One minute I want to…” The words jam in my throat. I swallow, then swallow again harder. “I wanted to run away with you,” I say.

  “With who?” Romeo asks.

  My throat is paralyzed. I can’t breathe, can’t speak.

  “It’s ok,” Slade whispers into my ear. “It’s not like we don’t know.”

  My eyes close in humiliation.

  “Lindsay,” Romeo says. His tone has shifted to assertive, dominating. “Who did you want to run away with?”

  “All of you, at one time or another,” I manage to whisper. “It’s stupid. I know this is just sex, that there’s no long-term future for us, no matter how much fun we have and how well we get along. But I can’t help wanting it…” My words get cut off again, this time because I can’t catch my breath.

  Only then do I realize that I’m crying.

  Not crying… sobbing.

  I don’t want them to see me like this, but Romeo steps close and holds my face, my ugly, crying face.

  “Open your eyes.” He stares right into me, but even confronted with my weakness, he doesn’t show a trace of disgust.

  “You think you can’t love three people at once,” he says. “You think that love is finite, something that can be exhausted. That it’s a zero-sum game, and if you want to run off with Slade, you can’t want to run off with Hawthorne as well. And you’re so hard on yourself.”

  “Is that true?” Slade asks.

  I’m crying too hard to speak, but I guess Slade accepts that as an answer because he presses a kiss into the side of my neck.

  “There are ways to make relationships like this work,” Hawthorne says. “If we’re brave enough to try.”

  “It’s true,” Romeo says.

  “Are there?” I manage to gasp out. “Your ex… Leona… She preferred you, loved you more than the others.”

  “That’s because she only wanted to be with me,” Romeo says. “Even as we were looking at homes together, she was trying to convince me that our relationship was more important. And she was right. It was… to her. But not to me. Leona didn’t have enough love for us, but she tried to make it, tried to fake it, and in the end she had to leave.”

  Hawthorne comes closer. “You, on the other hand, love us all, yet you don’t want to trust it,” he says.

  “How would it even work?” I ask.

  “It will work,” Romeo says, his voice firm.

  I begin to tremble, and Slade’s arms tighten around me.

  Hawthorne wipes away my tears with his fingers. “We care for you, Lindsay. All of us. You need to understand that. Let us give you the happy ending you deserve.” He smiles. “Because you’re our happy ending, too. We need you as much as y
ou need us. Maybe even more.”

  Meeting his gaze feels like the bravest thing I’ve ever done, but the moment his perceptive eyes lock on mine, I don’t need to be brave. He gives me strength.

  “Hawthorne, I’m sorry about what I said. I do love you…”

  Hawthorne’s lips touch mine. The kiss is possessive and skillful, and it feels like a promise.

  I’m transported to another dimension, where love is an infinite resource, where my bosses fill me up, both physically and emotionally, where we have an abundance of everything we could ever desire.

  It seems impossible that someone as lost as I was could ever be completely found, but they did find me, and no matter how hard I fought, they held onto me.

  I don’t know what it’s going to be like, being in a true relationship with three men. I don’t know what they’ll tell their families. I don’t know how things like having kids will work.

  But we’ve got years to figure that out, and if there’s one thing I know about my bosses, it’s that they find a way to make impossible things happen.

  Hours later, I realize that while Romeo said a lot of things—good things—there was one thing he didn’t say.

  He didn’t say he loves me.

  Chapter 14

  Three days later, I’m in a shopping center along with Romeo, Hawthorne and Slade.

  I can’t stop pacing, can’t sit still, and it’s not just because my butt is tender.

  Any second now, Layla should arrive.

  When my bosses gave me a list of acceptable meeting locations, I chose the shopping center for one reason.

  Ice cream.

  Layla thought she was meeting me for ice cream when she was picked up in Milford Crossing. The mall’s food court has a branch of my favorite ice cream chain.

  Afterward, I’m hoping my bosses will relax a bit and let me go with Layla to the day spa where I booked us for massages, but judging by the way they’re hovering nearby… I’m not convinced they’ll agree.

  This is the first time I’ve been allowed to leave Hawthorne’s skyscraper. My bosses are acting like my grandfather has some magical ability to find me. He doesn’t. If he did, I couldn’t have successfully evaded him for so long.

  Their nervousness is setting me on edge. I even catch a glimpse of a guy who I mistake for Kidnapper Joe.

  I see Layla before she sees me, and I literally stop breathing.

  She’s so beautiful, so real. She’s got an oversized purse clutched under one arm, just like Mom used to do, and the way she walks—long steps—just like Dad used to. Her blonde hair has darkened, but it’s still blonde. Her eyebrows, eyelashes… all darker.

  And she’s filled out.

  For a long moment I just stare at her.

  I can’t believe she’s here.

  She falters, and her gaze swings my way. She looks right into my eyes, and her mouth opens, her eyebrows come together, and I realize she’s about to cry.

  In that instant, she’s my little sister again, all knobby knees and sharp elbows.

  She practically knocks over a couple of frat guys on her way to me.

  “Lindsay!” She throws her arms around me and squeezes so tightly that I have a hard time breathing. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  She smells like the soap that our mom always bought. I don’t know if it’s intentional or if Miss Susan continues to buy it out of habit.

  Finally she releases me and takes a step back. She tries to look at me, but the tears streaming from her eyes send her digging in her bag.

  “Here.” Hawthorne steps forward and hands tissues to us both. I’m about to tell him that I don’t need them when I realize that I’m sobbing, too.

  “Thanks,” she says, or tries to say.

  People around us are staring openly. And why wouldn’t they? We’re making a spectacle of ourselves.

  “Ladies,” Romeo says. “Might I suggest we go somewhere more private?”

  “But I reserved massages for us,” I say stupidly, and it comes out a bit defensively though I don’t know why. In fact, I feel like I’m coming completely unraveled. All the years of intense longing and loneliness have coalesced into this moment.

  Romeo doesn’t seem offended by my tone. “If you want massages, my sports therapist makes house calls, and I’m sure he’ll bring an assistant.”

  It’s not really a suggestion, not anymore.

  Layla is looking at me, and she’s clearly wondering who the hell these guys are.

  “They’re my bosses,” I say, and her eyes widen in surprise. I was going to follow it up with something witty about how they micromanage every minute of my day, but Layla’s expression…

  It’s exactly like what our father used to do when one of us would say something that he thought was a bit too scandalous. I wonder if I have any of his mannerisms.

  I wonder a lot of things, and Layla is the only one who can answer my questions.

  “Wait,” I say to Romeo. “She came all this way… We want ice cream cones.” To Layla, I say, “The Ice Cream Factory has the best waffle cones.”

  Her eyes light up. “You think I wanted to see you, but it’s really the ice cream I’m after.”

  “It’ll only take us three minutes,” I tell my bosses, and I’m already pulling Layla away.

  Hawthorne takes a couple of steps after us, but Romeo stops him with a hand on his chest.

  I’m relieved. They’re overprotective, but I’m glad they realize that I don’t need an audience for every second of this.

  There isn’t much of a line at the Ice Cream Factory, which is a shame. I want as much time alone with my sister as possible.

  “What’s your favorite?” Layla asks. “Still birthday cake?”

  I nod. “And you still like double fudge?”

  “Actually, I think I overdosed on it or something. I wanna try something new. Something crazy.” She purses her lips as she scans through the flavors on offer. “Horseradish?” she asks. “Is that a joke?”

  “I dunno,” I say. “Never tried it.”

  “Are we brave today?” she wonders. But when she orders, she chooses double fudge and adds chocolate sprinkles.

  Apparently some things never change.

  I can see my bosses waiting near the entrance of the food court. They’re giving me space, but they’re keeping me in their sight at all times… and they’re not even being subtle about it.

  “We don’t have to hurry back,” I decide as I pay.

  Layla chases a drip of melting ice cream with her tongue. “So good,” she says. “Maybe I should move here. Are you dating him?”

  “Dating who?” I ask, punting.

  She grins. “Actually, I can’t figure out which one is your type. They’re all so hot!”

  I feel my cheeks begin to warm. “Oh, you and I have a lot to catch up on,” I say. “But that’s for another day. Right now, I want to know how you’ve been the last seven years.”

  “Seven years? I guess it has been that long,” she says. “I know you had your reasons for leaving, but…”

  “I know. But I want to help with that. My dad gave me money. My biological dad, I mean. He gave me money for college, but I’ve already paid for it by working extra, so I was thinking I could give the money to you so that you can focus on your studies.” I’m rambling, I realize. If this were a date, she’d be marking me off as desperate and needy.

  “Whoa. No way.”

  “But I don’t need it,” I insist. “If it makes you feel better, you can pay me back when you get your trust fund.”

  “A loan,” she says.

  I finish the last few bites of my cone and wipe my sticky fingers on the napkin. “It makes sense. Your education is more important than your pride.”

  “Oh, I’m not proud,” she says with a laugh, and I wonder who this self-assured woman is. I didn’t have half her confidence when I was nineteen. When I was her age, I was faking it like crazy, hiding behind walls.

  “Then why?” I
ask.

  “I just… You might have better uses for it,” she says. “That’s all. I wouldn’t want to deprive you.”

  I wave my hand airily. “I’ve done really well for myself,” I say. “I have plenty of money.”

  “In that case, I accept.” She sounds relieved. “Your timing couldn’t be better. Gramps is being a dick.” She says it like he’s any pain-in-the-ass parental figure and not the devil incarnate. But he was easier on her. She was his flesh and blood. I wasn’t.

  “Bathroom?” Layla asks.

  “Good idea.”

  My bosses are still watching. I hold up my hands and wiggle my fingers. Romeo nods.

  “They really keep close tabs on you,” Layla says. “Should I be concerned?”

  “Hey, be glad the bodyguard clones aren’t in here, too,” I say as we head down the corridor toward the restrooms. I notice that the door on the far end of the corridor is propped open, letting bright light spill in.

  “Bodyguard clones?” she asks.

  “I insisted they stay outside. Like I said, we have a lot of catching up to do.” How can I explain the bodyguards without mentioning Grandfather? I guess I should get it over with, tell her everything about what he did—leaving out the bit about the car accident—but I don’t want to ruin the day by talking about him.

  In the bathroom, Layla heads into a stall while I wash my hands. There’s a woman with two kids finishing up. They’re splashing and making a mess, and occasionally one of the kids shrieks, the pitch so high it hurts my ears.

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” I call out.

  “Ok!” Layla says.

  Yet another thing that hasn’t changed since we were kids. I’m smiling as I walk out the door.

  A man shifts into my peripheral vision, and something about the way he moves catches my attention.

  “Hello, Lindsay,” Grandfather says, and I take a step back, my body going stiff.

  He’s wearing a light jacket—not season-appropriate—and he’s got his hands jammed deep into the pockets.

  Like he’s got something in there he wants to keep hold of.

  Run, I think. Run! But I can’t, can’t leave my sister.

  The ice cream seems to want to come back up, but I can’t let him see that I’m panicking. “What do you want?” I ask coldly.