by TC Matson
What now? How will we handle this? What am I to him? Just another fucked night?
This…this is what I’ve been running from. All the confusion and wonder.
Easton
It’s Sunday—gym day. And I’m late as hell thanks to the amazing woman I unwillingly had to leave this morning. I rushed home and took a shower, and now I’m stepping into the gym bracing for the hell Max and Zach will for sure lay on me.
I scan the room for them and see them at the bench press.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Max says, grinning like a bastard.
Zach shoves the bar back onto the stand and sits up. “Thought you got lost.” His smug smirk is loaded with accusation. “Did you have a long night?”
Arching a brow, I don’t answer. They know better than for me to spill the details. I don’t. I’ve never been the bragging type. “I woke up late,” I lie.
Max shifts, an arrogant grin blessing me. “Huh…That’s odd. You weren’t home when I swung by there earlier to see if you wanted to ride with me.”
“So where were you, Langley?” Zach presses.
“Don’t worry about it.” I’m curt with my response, grabbing two dumbbells.
Zach laughs under his breath. “Does this have anything to do with Z? How is she anyway? You two patch shit up?”
“Give it up.”
“Not a chance,” Max says. “I missed the part of the gala where you ditched Jade.”
I’m growing aggravated. “Your sister told me to go after her. Besides, man, I was in Jade’s way. She had her sights set on someone else.”
Max pulls his shoulders back and expands his chest. “Who?”
He’s always been so defensive and protective of his sister.
My view shifts to Zach.
“You’ve chased it long enough,” Zach interrupts. “Hopefully, it was worth the discomfort you’re about to experience in the office.”
I shake my head in disagreement. “It isn’t like that.”
“It isn’t?” Zach rests his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist. “Please explain it then. I’m all ears.”
Max smacks Zach’s shoulder. “Should’ve seen how he looked at the winery with her.”
“Yeah? Probably just as doe-eyed as when I was there for lunch. He even sent flowers, which she gave back, by the way,” Zach adds.
I want to groan.
“It’s the beginning of the end, yet again,” Zach says with a chuckle.
“The lunch was a thank you for all she does for me. The flowers…that was a try.”
“All that she’s done? Dude, you’re going to have to elaborate because I’m picturing her under your desk helping herself help you,” Zach says.
“And the flowers were for a job well done?” Max adds with a chuckle.
I slam the dumbbells back to the rack. “I haven’t denied that I’ve got a thing for her. Quit giving me hell because I’m not doing shit your way. She’s skittish so I’m taking it slow because of it.”
“You’re wanting to get serious with her?” Zach asks.
“Yeah. Man, I do,” I reply.
This time, Max is the one to react. “As in Penelope serious?”
I rub my face exasperated with my two nosy knuckle-headed friends.
“She’s not stupid. She knows your reputation. Everyone knows you don’t stick around in the same place for too long. What’s her plans when she gives in to you and there’s no more chase? You’ll get bored and move on. Then what? You’ll be right back to answering the phones when she quits,” Zach says.
I glance away. “I don’t plan on dipping out on her.” And it’s the truth.
Max’s eyes widen. “That’s some serious talk, Langley.”
Zach cackles. “No offense to Z. She’s gorgeous and all, but she’s plain. You’re notorious for reveling in the high class.”
“Says the same man who shares the same taste in women as me,” I deadpan.
“High class pussy.” He shrugs. “What’s not to like about it? But Z…dude, you’re nothing but a smooth player in her eyes.”
I ball my fist at my side, fighting the urge to punch him in the face. “How about you worry about you and I worry about me?” I scowl.
“Oh, man. She must’ve been a good lay,” he adds.
“Man, don’t give me shit,” I grit. “I’ve lost plenty of sleep over all this bullshit.”
“Does it make you feel superior that she probably fawns over your fancy things? Does it make your dick get hard that you reign supreme in the relationship and you know there isn’t any competition?” Zach’s a smug, blunt bastard, and it sets me off.
Max must see the anger in my eyes and he steps between us.
“Are you in a dry spell? I don’t know what your fucking deal is, but lay off me, Zach,” I ground out each word ready to knock his head off his shoulders.
The bastard smirks. “What is it, Langley? Trying to be a hero? Easton doesn’t do simple.”
Anger thunders out of me. “I did last night.” The words slip and triumph smiles back at me.
“Fucking the assistant. This is going to be a colossal train wreck to go down in the history of train wrecks,” Max says. “The papers ate you alive with an amiable split with Penelope. How’s Zoey going to feel about them?”
“They followed Penn. Not me. It won’t be an issue. And I’m glad you fuckheads have faith in me. I’m not out to ruin Zoey. It’s not going to be a fuck and drop. End of story,” I bite.
“Denver’s playboy out gallivanting on the mend of the breakup with Penelope Elliots,” Zach mocks the ridiculous reporter’s voice and it grates my spine.
“That was directly after they reported the split,” I reply. “And over a year ago.”
“I’m just warning you. Simplistic new girl isn’t going to appreciate the headlines as she does your bed,” Zach says.
“Oh, just like the way she appreciated you at the gala last night?” I defend Zoey. “What the hell is your problem? Do you want her? Or are you just that pissed you can’t get what you want but I can?” My tone is sardonic, my glare daring him.
Yeah, that’s right. Protective big brother Max knows nothing of Zach’s crush on Jade. For years, I’ve had to listen to him grumble and gripe about wanting to be with her and having to fuck her discreetly. Max will murder him if he ever finds out. That’s his baby sister, the same one he vowed to protect after she just about died in his arms.
“My antics got you in the bed with her last night.” Zach rolls his shoulders back with evil in his eyes. “You’ve never—”
Max moves between us. “What’s HR going to say about it?”
Zach’s cocksure ass chuckles.
“I dare to be asked about it,” I state simply.
Max squeezes my shoulder. “Put some thought into this, man. This is a recipe for disaster.”
“I’ve put enough thought into it. I know what I want. I may not understand the reasons behind it, but I know Zoey is what I want in my life.”
Max’s lips stretch tight, approvingly. “In that case, man, just don’t fuck it up.”
Her hair is falling over the cream fabric on her shoulders. She glances up as I step off the elevator and a smile erupts across her sultry lips. The floor shudders below my feet.
“Good morning.” I’m charismatic. “I need to see you in my office.”
She’s right behind me. “You have an eleven o’clock with—”
I seize her hips and pull her in for a kiss. Her body stiffens. Her mouth not returning the kiss. She doesn’t touch me and then leans back. “Easton, not here.”
I smile down at her. “Yes, here. I’ve waited over twenty-four hours to feel your lips again.”
I bend to kiss her, but she eases me back, pushing me gently with her palms against my chest. “We need to establish boundaries. At work, I’m your assistant. Nothing more. I don’t need everyone thinking I’ve screwed my way to the top.”
Frustration braids my sig
h. “You expect me to keep my hands to myself and remain professional when it’s just you and me here?”
She’s insane.
She peers up innocently from under her lashes. “At least make an attempt. You never know who might pop in.”
“After knowing how great you feel wrapped around my dick…” I say and her cheeks set on fire. I rub my thumb over the crimson staining her skin. “And knowing how glorious you look when you come for me.”
She ducks her head in a fit of shyness.
I chuckle. “It’s impossible, Zoey.”
She blinks back up to me, eyes sweet and pleading. “Just try. Please.”
I inhale. “I’m not making any promises.” I let go of her waist, reluctantly as hell. “Eleven with Mr. Brady. After that, my schedule’s empty until I leave for the airport, right?”
“Yes.”
I nod with a scheme.
Two hours later, she steps in carrying the files I need for the Brady project. She can barely look at me anymore, keeping her face down and her gaze averted to avoid me.
“I don’t like you not looking at me,” I say without any emotions.
She sets the manila folders down in front of me before answering. “I’m having a hard time adjusting to the fact I’ve slept with my boss.”
I clench my jaw. This boss card is royally pissing me off. “You’re stuck on this boss thing. Whatever happens, I assure your job is secure.” I reach out and pull her around the desk onto my lap. “We know you didn’t get this job by fucking me. Now, it’s just an added bonus.”
Softly, I kiss her jawline.
“Easton…”
“When you moan my name, my dick aches to feel you.” I drift my hand up her thigh, under her skirt.
She swats it away. “You’re making this hard.”
I smirk, flexing my hips. “You’re making me hard. The visions of you bent over my desk, pussy wet, and you panting for me…” I trail off, tugging her mouth to mine. I kiss her hard, inhaling her little moan. My dick throbs. “Go lock the door.”
Lightly, and not very convincingly, she pushes my shoulders back, simultaneously, lifting her body. “Not here.”
Stopping her body from leaving mine, I squeeze her thigh, bringing her back down, and nip the bottom of her chin. “Tell me you don’t want my dick buried in you.”
Her hazel beauties flare with heat, but she slides off my lap. “You can’t talk to me like that. You’re going to sidetrack the hell out of me and I won’t be able to focus on anything.”
I grin wickedly. “Except my dick?”
She purses her lips. “You have a perverse mouth.” She stifles a small timid giggle.
“You have a moan I love hearing and sex I desire.”
A smile creeps across her lips. “You better compose yourself. Your meeting starts in thirty minutes.”
“That’s enough time for a quickie.”
Oh, her glare is playful. It’s sexy.
“What?” I chuckle. “Is that out of the question?”
“Yes,” she says with a quick nod and then starts to retreat.
“Zoey?” I call her and she turns to me. “I want a real date when I get back Friday.” It’s a demand and not up for discussion.
The right side of her perfect lips quirk up. “With lit candles?”
“If you prefer.”
“I’ll think about it.”
The impish flash tugs at my dick. “I’ll be at your apartment at seven Friday night.”
Whatever was behind the way she just looked at me before shutting the door has my heart pounding. Holy fuck. It’s a feeling I’ve not felt in a long time. This go around, though, it feels more real.
Zoey
Dating has always made me super nervous. I’ve changed in and out of almost every piece of fabric in my closet before settling right back into the second dress I tried on—a black lacy halter top—and the third pair of heels—black, strappy, open toes.
My closet is a mess now, clothes scattered everywhere, hanging half off the hangers, heels kicked off to the side instead of neatly placed, skirts no longer in any particular order.
I’m a ball of anxiety as I get ready. My hair is being rebellious and giving me a fit. It’s as if every strand feeds off my nervous energy and is spazzing out. I wanted to wear it down, but it’s rebuking the simple idea, so I throw it up into a pretty ponytail with added soft waves.
I’m scrambling, shaking, and excited. Butterflies explode at the sound of the knock on my door and I stumble toward the knob, clumsily pulling it open, out of breath like I’ve run a marathon.
He’s in a pair of dark washed jeans with a gray button up shirt that cherishes and shows off his muscles. His hair is disheveled, but in the sexiest “we just had sex” mess. His large grin has his green eyes glinting.
“Hey.” My sigh floats out on a dream-laced exhale.
His left brow quirks up. “I’m glad I’m not the only one drooling. You ready?”
I nod…without voice, scared of how ridiculous I might sound.
He clutches my hand and tips his head. “Come on. Let’s grab something to eat.”
The restaurant is top notch—nowhere I’ve eaten before because it’s entirely out of my pay grade. Luxury and wealth come to mind and I’m not sure I’m high-class enough to eat here.
The ambiance is romantic with tables spread far apart, numerous lights hanging above them by single wires to give the resemblance of a twilight sky. In the center of the table sits a candle holder that looks like a lily tree with three tea candles burning.
“You lit the candles,” I say timorously.
He hasn’t stopped grinning, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“This is really nice.” I take a small sip of my red wine, begging for my nerves to settle. It’s causing me to be scattered and my thoughts to evade me.
He tilts his head slightly. “You sound dubious.”
I chew the corner of my lip and fidget with the edge of the red cloth napkin in my lap. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never been to a restaurant this upscale.” I lift my gaze to him and scrunch my nose. “I’m a little out of my comfort zone. It’s making me anxious.”
He studies me, like really looks at me for what feels like an eternity before he speaks. “You’re unconcerned with materialistic things. That’s something about you I like.”
“Being from the country, I’ve learned to love the simpler things in life,” I ramble off.
“Most women dream of being flowered with gifts and treated as a princess,” he says.
“I can understand. It’s princessy.” I lift a shoulder puffing a giggle.
He shifts in his chair, leaning his elbows on the table. “You’re fucking mesmerizing. You know that?”
My cheeks burn hot and I tuck my chin.
“Soak it up. Enjoy what I offer.”
“I enjoy you,” I specify.
“I come with money and I want to indulge you with it.”
“You don’t need to. I like you for you,” I admit.
“Precisely why I want to.” His grin makes it to his eyes. “You don’t expect it. Makes it more fun when I do.” He rests back into his seat and takes a sip of wine. “Tell me about your parents. You said they’re still working, right?”
Whether he meant to or not, he just threw my security blanket on me. The subject that makes me most comfortable—my family. “My dad’s been working for the same farm equipment factory for years. Last year they offered him a supervisor position. We threw him a party.” I laugh. “My mom helps at the local library, but I think it has more to do with just getting out of the house and away from the farm.”
He blinks and then squints slightly. “They own a farm too?”
I nod. “It’s not as large as it was when I was younger. Dad used to have rows and rows as far as the eyes could see of feed corn. He’d work and sell it to the cattle farmers, but he had to downsize as other cheaper feed became readily available. He picked up more hours at the factor
y to cover the difference. They still have a small crop, but not nearly the size it once was. He sells to the local farmers who believe in American hard work.”
“Did you help with it when you were younger?”
Memories of sitting on my dad’s lap in the huge combine harvester with miles of corn around us flood me. I smile. “I did sometimes. I was too young and short to drive, so I’d sit there and give him company. We’d laugh and talk. He’d tell me stories and jokes.” I warm from the thought. “I helped Mom more, though. No age would keep me out of the kitchen. We used to bake several cakes or pies, depending on the week, every Thursday and then take them into the city to the homeless shelter on Fridays.” I laugh again at another memory. “Although, my favorite memory was Mom helping me sneak meal scraps from the trash before Dad took it out so I could take them to the dog pound. My dad isn’t much of an animal lover.”
“Your parents raised a woman with a heart of gold,” he says and my heart flips backward.
“They’re really good parents. You know, my dad never had to whip me. He had this look and it scared the hell out of me, straightening me right up. And my mom…well, it was dad’s job to discipline me. Normally, if I got into trouble, I’d do something great and she’d forget about it by supper time.”
He chuckles. “I wish I could say the same thing.”
“I bet you were a hellion,” I state.
He nods his head to the side. “I had my moments.”
“What’s the worst one you’ve got?”
He smiles into his wine glass and takes a sip before answering. “Once I pierced my eyebrow. I was rebellious enough to shove a damn sewing needle into my skin. Had a big, ugly, gaudy gold ring in it. I hated it. My father despised it worse, which only pacified my own hatred and replaced it with the pleasure of pissing the old man off. I was too old for him to discipline…or so I thought. He pitched a tent in the basement and told me to sleep there until I took it out. As unruly as I was, I thought it didn’t sound so bad. Until I realized the basement had no running water or electricity.”
My shoulders shake as my laugh causes tears. “How long did you last?”