by T L Swan
“Why aren’t you answering my calls?” The thick Irish accent barks.
I smile as I lose my ability to think, remaining silent.
“I’m outside the front of your work building now. Come and see me for a moment, please?”
I frown. Huh? “I can’t leave work.”
“Get down here now or I will come up to your desk.”
He wouldn’t.
“Listen.” My eyes dart around all my work colleagues who are too busy working to notice me. “I know you are a spoilt Irish twat, but some of us have to work. What do you want to say?” I whisper.
“I’d rather say it in person.”
“Tough shit.” I hang up. Fucking hell, who in the hell does this guy think he is?
Damn, I would have liked to hear what he said, though. I smirk when I imagine his face when I hung up. Conceited prick. I get back to work, but five minutes later the lift double doors open with a ding and I glance up. It’s rare anyone comes in at this time of the day. Wait. Don’t tell me.
Alastar
He’s standing in the lift with his hands in his sports coat jacket, his just fucked hair resting wavy on the top of his head, and his big beautiful lips pursed.
Damn it… he looks orgasmic. And furious.
Dread fills me as he storms though the office like a raging bull that’s heading straight to my desk.
“I would like to see you, please.”
Travis and Deirdre look up from their work. Shit, shit, shit.
“And I said I am working. Go. Away.” I turn back to my computer and pretend to type.
Holy fucking shit, what next?
“I am not moving until you come downstairs with me for five minutes.”
Fury starts to pump. Is he kidding? He’s a spoilt fucking brat.
“I’m not allowed to leave my desk,” I grind out through gritted teeth.
Alastar turns to Deirdre. “I need to talk to Emerson about a customer relations emergency.”
I narrow my eyes as I start to hear my pulse pick in my ears. Is this a joke?
“That’s fine, Emerson. You go,” Deirdre replies. Her and Travis exchange looks.
I close my eyes and stand in a rage. “Fine. Out!” I snap as I walk toward the stairs in the foyer. I don’t want to walk past the management offices.
Stupid Stephanie is sitting at the upstairs reception as we walk past toward the stairs. I glare at her.
“Excuse me,” she calls to us.
I turn around to face her as Alastar heads down the stairs.
“The broom closet is that way,” she snickers through a fake smile. She points toward the management offices as if trying to be helpful.
I walk back to her desk as my fury hits another level. “Stephanie.” I put my hand on her desk and lean over into her face.
“Yes.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
She smiles sarcastically. “Oh I do… often.”
My eyes hold hers.
“I personally don’t do it in cupboards, though. Although, I’m sure you would.” She raises her eyebrow in a silent dare.
I glare at her.
Game on, mole.
I turn and storm to the staircase. That fucking bitch is going down when I get back.
I take the stairs two at a time with Alastar hot on my heels. I stop at the landing and turn to face him. “Okay, what do you want?”
He frowns. “I want ten minutes.” My eyes widen. “I’m at work. You get five.”
“Your boss said you could take fifteen minutes. I want to grab a quick coffee.” “Are you deaf? I am at work. I can’t go for coffee. What is so damn desperate that it can’t wait until tonight?”
He looks at me. “I just
want to explain myself and after our ten minutes at coffee you will never have to see me again. I promise. Okay?”
My heart deflates at the thought of never seeing him again. I do want to hear what he has to say. Damn it. “Fine.” I turn and start walking down the stairs and he follows me silently. We get to the bottom and he gestures to the door. We walk out onto the street.
“Which way?” I ask.
He points to the café down the road, and two minutes later we have ordered coffee and are sitting at a table for two in the back of a trendy little space.
I sit still, unsure what to say.
He appears nervous, although I know he can’t be.
He grabs my hand across the table and my face drops. Please don’t touch me.
“The things that you said to me on the weekend are playing on my mind and I can’t stop thinking about them.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That was five days ago, Alastar.”
“I know.”
“What’s changed?”
He shrugs. “I was just going to leave it but I can’t until you know that I’m not the person you think I am.”
“And what kind of person is that?”
“Married and in love with someone else. Or that I used you for sex.”
I frown.
“You lied to me, straight up. You got a text and I asked you who sent it and you said nobody. I heard the text come through, Alastar. I’m not stupid.”
His eyes hold mine. “I had a photo shoot six hours north on the Saturday morning. Thomas was coming with me and we were going to spend the weekend away.”
He squeezes my hand in his and I find myself watching his face.
“Thomas was staying at my house because we were leaving early. When he went to bed, I was meant to be going to an auction for just two hours. He had no idea where I was when the alarm went off in the morning, telling him it was time for us to leave. That’s when he text me.”
I frown, hmm, is this true? “Then why lie?”
He shrugs and his eyes meet mine. He fiddles with my hand as he tries to articulate his thoughts.
The waitress puts our coffee on the table. “Thank you,” we both reply in unison.
He swallows as if contemplating asking the next question. “I have to know something.”
“Yes.”
“You said it had been a long time before me.” Our eyes meet. “How long is a long time?”
“Fourteen months.”
A frown crosses his face. “How many?”
“One.”
His eyes drop back to the table.
“Is that it?” I fake a smile. “I get it. You’re not married and you just banged a virtual virgin. Thanks for clarifying.” I pull my hand from his and try to leave.
“Sit down, please.” He scrunches his face up as if I hurt his feelings.
I sit still. “I have to ask you something, Alastar.”
His eyes come back to mine.
“Why act jealous? If you didn’t care, why act so jealous?” I really do want to know this. It’s been weighing heavily on my mind.
He frowns. “The jealousy isn’t an act. I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else.”
I look at him blankly.
“Em, I just have a lot of things going on right now and I can’t—”
I cut him off.
“You can’t commit.” I finish for him.
He shakes his head softly. “And I don’t want you being upset because of me.”
“I don’t want commitment, Alastar. I want respect.”
He frowns.
“You misunderstand me. I have never had a one night stand before. I am not the kind of girl who does that sort of thing.”
“I know,” he replies sadly.
“I had the wildest, craziest night of my life with this gorgeous stranger and it wasn’t sleazy or cheap. I felt cared for and cherished.”
“You were.” He picks up my hand again and smiles softly.
“And then you lied.”
He stares at me.
“I don’t want a boyfriend that lies. I don’t even want a boyfriend. I spent a long time trying to find myself and now that I have found her… I’m keeping her.”
Confusion crosses his face.
“I want a friend. One that I know cares for me and wont lie to me.”
“You want friends with benefits?” He frowns in shock.
I shake my head. “I don’t even know what I want, but I know it isn’t putting all my eggs into one basket, giving you or anyone else the ability to make me feel like I did this last week.”
“How did I make you feel?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Like I’m insignificant,” I whisper.
His eyes hold mine, his thumbs brushing over the back of my hand as he thinks. “How could you ever think that?”
I shrug.
“I don’t want you with anyone else,” he whispers.
I sit back. “You just told me that you can’t commit to anything.”
“I know.” He frowns.
“What exactly are you saying?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’m going away in six weeks and probably won’t be back before you leave.”
“And?”
“I just didn’t want things to get messy between us.”
I smirk. “So, you thought being an ass was easier?”
He nods once. I pick up my coffee and sip it. I don’t know even what to say to that. Yes, I do: Coward.
He stares into space as if contemplating something. “Tell me your idea of friends with benefits?”
I smirk. “I don’t know. I have never had it, to be honest.” I think for a moment. “In a perfect world I would have a friendship and a connection with someone without there being any expectations.”
He frowns. “Like what?”
I shrug and smile as I sip my coffee. “Like...” I hesitate. “I would see them two or three times a week and we would care for each other but not fall in love.”
His elbow is resting on the table, and he leans his cheek on his hand, a trace of a smile crossing his face at my romantic dream.
“And then when it ended, when I went home to Australia, we would both marry other people.”
He watches me intently.
“Then in twenty years I could look back and say I had this beautiful friendship with a man in London back in the day, and it would be a happy memory. Something that was dear and special to me.”
He smiles softly. “That does sound nice.”
I smile and pick up his free hand from the table. “Thank you for coming and seeing me. You are right, I do feel better.”
His eyes hold mine and I know he wants to say something.
“You are not as much of an ass as I first thought.” I smirk.
“Could you sleep with me four or five times a week and not fall in love with me?” he asks suddenly.
I laugh. “You are so conceited, and I said two or three times, not four or five.”
“Rounding up.” He smiles, but I know he’s dead serious.
I pick up his hand and kiss the back of it. “The question is, Alastar, could you do it without falling in love with me?”
His eyes hold mine and I melt into them a little.
“Aye.”
“And I would go home at the end of my trip? With no strings?”
He smiles softly. “Aye.”
I feel my heart start to flutter. What the hell am I negotiating here? I’m already hopelessly hung up on this guy. This is dangerous territory.
“I would want monogamy,” he whispers as he picks up my hand and kisses it.
I raise a brow in question.
“I don’t share.” His eyes darken.
My mouth goes dry. “Neither do I.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. I’m a one-woman man.”
We sit and stare at each other as the electricity starts to flare between us.
I start to feel my arousal roll at the mere thought that this plan could actually work.
His dark eyes drop to my mouth and his tongue slides over his lip. I feel our connection all the way to my toes.
“Can I see you tonight?” he asks in a whisper.
I smile and a little voice from the back of my psych screams No! You are setting yourself up for heartbreak. “You can.” I smile shyly.
He raises his eyebrow sexily.
Dear, God. I think I just made a deal with the devil himself.
* * *
Control. Is it an illusion or conscious decision?
Hmm, I just don’t know. I willingly agreed for the plan to involve us being casually exclusive, so why the hell am I so torn about my decision? Do I really want this, or was I just so excited that he offered not to sleep with anyone else, I jumped at the chance without thinking it through? Do I even want to be exclusive with one man? I don’t know anymore. I’ve been over analyzing this all day. I think I’m going to tell him that I want to keep seeing him but I’m not going to promise anything else. But is that then opening the door for him to sleep with whoever he pleases? And will I kick myself for screwing up further down the track?
I am glad he put his cards on the table, though. I would hate to be pining for him like I was for the first two weeks after meeting him.
It’s 8pm and Alastar is due to pick me up any moment now. I am primped and waxed to the nines and nervous as hell. I shouldn’t be. This is just casual sex, I remind myself.
I close my eyes. I already know it’s deeper than that, so who am I kidding?
I am wearing a navy, backless, long sleeve dress with high heel strappy stilettos. My hair is down and full, and my makeup is minimal. I even stopped and bought some sexy white satin underwear on the way home. This guy is costing me a fortune. Vanessa is at work and Hank is watching television when I hear a knock on the door and hold my breath. I close my eyes and listen.
“Hello,” I hear my Irishman say through a smile. “I’m Alastar. I’m here to pick up Em.”
“Oh, hi,” Hank replies goofily. “She’s in her bedroom. Through here.”
“Thank you.”
My bedroom door opens. I turn and there he stands in his blue jeans, white shirt and navy blazer. He’s so gorgeous and holy hell, he smells divine.
He smiles sexily and turns to close the door behind him. I hold my breath as he walks toward me. He bends down and his lips brush mine, his large hand cupping my face before his lips begin to suck on my mouth. My eyes instinctively close and my knees nearly buckle from underneath me.
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day,” he breathes.
He kisses me again in the silence and his hands slip down to my behind. He pulls me forward against his waiting cock.
Sweet Jesus.
“Seeing me or fucking me?” I whisper into his lips.
“Seeing you, talking to you, holding you… then fucking you.”
“Hmm.” I smile as my tongue dances with his. “Excellent answer.”
He sits down on my bed and pulls me onto his lap until I’m straddling him and we start to really kiss. My body moves in a perfect rhythm, brushing back and forth over his hard length.
“Let’s get those panties wet before we leave the house,” he whispers. His hands grip my behind with force as he circles my pubic bone down onto his with pressure.
Are you freaking kidding? I could come doing this.
My lips drop to his neck and I nibble my way up to his ear. “Tell me about your cock,” I whisper.
“Well, right now… he wants to be fed.”
“What does he want to eat?”
“You.” He kisses me as he starts to lose control. “All of you. Every inch.”
Our arousal heats up and we start to really make out.
“Let’s change the order,” he breathes.
“Huh?” I frown through my arousal fog.
“Lets fuck first, then talk and hold each other later.”
I smile broadly. God, this man makes me like a cat on heat. “No.” I peel myself off him. “We are eating first.” I stand and walk back to my mirror. Stop being so easy, Emerson.
He smiles sexily as he watches me reapply my lip gloss. I lick my lips for added effect and he raises a challengi
ng brow.
“Are you teasing me?” He whispers sexily.
I blow him a kiss. “Totally.” I wink.
* * *
Half an hour later and we are sitting at our table for two in an intimate Italian restaurant. The ambience is dark and sensual with flickering candles on all the tables. Italian music is being piped through the speakers and we are now waiting for our dessert. The meal was divine. Alastar sits with his hands clasped together under his chin, his sexy eyes fixed on me. This is the perfect date.
“Do you come here often?” I ask.
“Aye. I love Italian food and this is the best restaurant in town.”
I smile softly. Why does everything he say sound so dreamy?
He holds out his hand for me on the table and I put my palm against his. Alastar O’Shea wrote the book on kick ass dates. He has been funny, attentive, and he now has me swooning all over the damn table.
“What happened today when you went back to the office with your receptionist friend?” he asks.
I shrug as I raise my eyebrows. “She’s stalking me.”
He smiles into his glass of red wine and raises a brow. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I think her and Mark are a thing.”
He sits forward, suddenly interested. “Does that bother you?”
I shrug. “It probably should. I mean, he was talking to me for twelve months online.”
His eyes drop to the table in thought.
“But I don’t want him, so… no. It doesn’t bother me at all. Kind of relieved really.”
“Are you going to tell him about us?”
“No.” I sip my wine. “I wasn’t going to.”
“I want you to.” He replies.
I frown. “Alastar, we’re casual. Casual is code for secret.”
“Since when?” He frowns.
“Since now.”
He shakes his head in annoyance and a little thrill runs through me. This jealousy thing is holy hot.
“I have no problem telling him.” His eyes dare me to defy him.
I smirk.
“And I will if he pushes it.” He sits back in annoyance.
“How will he push it?” I ask.
“If you don’t set him straight in the next few days… I will.”
I smile with my hand under my chin. “Is that so?”
“What are you going to say to him, Em?”
I blow out a breath. “That I’m not interested in him that way.”