“I don’t like talking on the phone.”
“But you like sitting in traffic for fifteen minutes?”
His hand moved to the small of my back as he stopped me on the sidewalk. “Come over.” He nodded to his car sitting at the curb.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
He brought me in close, his face just inches from mine. “When I said I missed you, I meant it.”
After the terrible way he’d treated me, I wasn’t eager to get back into bed right away. He took my virginity then pretended I didn’t exist. The last time I was in that penthouse, he treated me like I was nothing but a nuisance, a stranger. “I’m not ready to pick up where we left off. Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to open my legs and fuck you.”
If he was disappointed, he pretended otherwise. “Then let’s have dinner. I’ll cook for you.”
“Will you make salad?”
The corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “Maybe as an appetizer.”
“Alright. I’ll be there in a few hours.” I stepped away from his grasp so I could walk up the sidewalk.
He pulled me close then placed a kiss on my mouth, kissing me for the entire world to see. His hands guided me farther into his chest, and he slowly caressed my lips, making love to them in a way he never made love to my pussy. He breathed into me gently before he pulled back. His hands loosened on my body before he turned away. “I’ll see you soon.”
IT WAS the last week of summer, so I wore my sundresses as much as possible. Summer was my favorite season because getting ready for work was super easy. I just pulled on a dress with a cardigan or jacket, added some accessories, and then I walked out the door. Once it became winter, I would have to pull on my skintight jeans, boots, layers upon layers of warmth, until I was left feeling suffocated in the bulky clothing.
I changed into a navy blue dress with strappy sandals before I headed to his penthouse on the other side of town. It was a train ride away and then a few blocks of walking, but since I sat at a desk all day long, I didn’t mind it.
I took the elevator to his floor then stepped inside to the smell of dinner in the kitchen. “Something smells good.” I set my purse on the entryway table and relived the memory of the last time I was there. He sat on the couch with a drink in his hand, shirtless and hostile.
“Chicken Picatta. And you’re right on time.” He got up to set the plates on the dining table then walked to me, wearing just his sweatpants low on his waist. His upper body was muscular and strong, chiseled with powerful muscles and sexy golden skin. He greeted me by the door by moving his hand into my hair and kissing me passionately on the lips. His arm circled my waist, and he pulled me close as he treasured me, apologizing for the harsh way he’d treated me the last time I was there with his lips but not his words.
Every time he kissed me, my anger died away a little more. Wyatt was a good kisser, also handsome and charming, but I didn’t feel the same sparks with him that I did with Slate. There was a special affection for Slate inside my heart, a place only he had claimed. If I ever wanted to feel something real for someone else, I would have to erase him from my heart completely.
But that seemed impossible.
He pulled away and looked at me with possession, a new look I hadn’t received before. Now that I was in his arms once again, he didn’t want to let me go.
Maybe he would appreciate me this time. Maybe he wouldn’t let me go because he didn’t want anyone else to have me. It wasn’t romantic, but it was better than nothing.
His hand slackened against my hair, and he stepped away. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“My diet consists of mostly peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, so yes, I’m hungry.”
“Those are good—once in a while.”
“Wait…you’ve had one?” I followed him to the dining table. “I thought you didn’t eat carbs.”
“Not usually. But I’ve had a few sandwiches here and there.” He poured two glasses of wine and sat across from me, our hot meals emitting steam because they were so warm. Grilled chicken with lemons and capers along with a side of broccoli. It was still a boring dinner, but delicious all the same.
I cut into my dinner and started to eat. “You’re a pretty good cook. I’ve never had the time or the money.”
“You will soon enough. Maybe you could take it up then.”
I couldn’t imagine life without that debt hanging over my head. I was still getting used to having some extra cash because my student loans had been wiped out. What would it be like not to have all that money drained out of my account every month? My medical bill was more expensive than my rent.
There was a check sitting on the table, so he placed it in front of me. “I would rather you used it now. It would save you a bit of cash.”
I always felt uncomfortable taking his money. Up until that point, I never had. I pushed the check back. “When service is complete, we’ll talk about it.”
“Or you could take it now…and be obligated to complete the service.”
“You think I’m going anywhere?” I asked incredulously. “The money is just my way of justifying my decision…but I care about it the least.”
He didn’t push the check back at me again. He let it sit on the table, forgotten.
I kept eating, trying to pretend that interaction didn’t happen. I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. This whole thing started because I needed money, but now I needed him more. I felt like a prostitute who only wanted one client.
Slate kept eating, his eyes watching my face most of the time. He always ate with his body hunched over his food, his muscular arms rippling with the movements. The veins along his skin were prominent, thick cords that were defined just underneath his tanned flesh. He was hairless with the exception of his face, where his beard constantly regrew. By tomorrow morning, he would have a significant shadow across his face. “My brother is getting married on Saturday.”
“Unless he’s marrying a new woman, I guess that means he still won’t listen to you.”
He shook his head. “I told my mother to talk to him, but she said it was a lost cause. If she pushes him anymore, she’s afraid she’ll lose him altogether.”
“Maybe that’s what he needs to learn his lesson.”
“He’s going to learn his lesson…but it’s going to be in the most brutal way possible.” He ate much quicker than I did, devouring his food in a few bites. His eyes held his resentment for both Simone and Coen, the two people he despised most on this planet. “When that moment comes, I won’t laugh in his face…but I’ll say I told you so.”
“It’ll probably be unnecessary at that point. Have you tried recording her? Getting evidence?”
“I wired my office with mics just in case, but she hasn’t made any moves. She’s not stupid. Now that I officially know what she’s doing, she’ll play it safe until that marriage license is signed—without a prenup.”
“I guess that makes sense. So there’s nothing you can do.”
He shook his head. “It’s his funeral.”
“Are you going to the wedding?”
He nodded. “I have to.”
“You don’t have to do anything. No one would judge you for not going.”
“But my mother wants me to be there. Now that my father is gone, I know she feels alone. At least if I’m there, she won’t feel so lonely. I look a lot like my father, so sometimes when she looks at me, it makes her feel better, like he’s still here.”
“Well…he’s always here. As long as you think about him, he always will be.” That’s how I felt about my mother. She crossed my mind often, when there was something interesting going on in my life that I would normally tell her, I wondered what her response would be. I visited her grave on the anniversary of her death and her birthday every year.
“True.”
“It’s a small wedding?”
“Just some friends and family.”
>
I wondered if he would take me along, but when he didn’t say anything, I assumed that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was too public for him. I assumed he would want some comfort during the difficult time, a distraction from the living nightmare.
I finished my food until there was nothing left. “That was delicious. Where do you get your recipes?”
“Online. Sometimes my mom gives me a few of hers. This is one of them.”
“Pretty good.”
“And easy. I don’t like anything that takes more than thirty minutes.”
I never spent any time in the kitchen, unless I was pressing two slices of bread together and making a sandwich. When I went to the grocery store, I only picked up the essentials, like milk and cereal along with my shampoo and conditioner. “Maybe you can teach me sometime.”
“Sure. But I have one condition.”
“Alright.”
“You have to be naked.”
“I’m not going to cook naked,” I said with a laugh. “Oil will splash all over me, and that will hurt.”
“Fine. Lingerie.”
“That’s not any better.”
“One or the other—it doesn’t matter to me.”
“You’re such a perv.” I picked up both plates and carried them to the sink in the kitchen. I rinsed them off so his maid wouldn’t have so much work to do in the morning. When I came back to the table, Slate had finished his wine, but the nearly full bottle remained on the table.
He watched me sit across from him. “I am a perv—and I won’t bother denying it.”
“At least you admit your faults.”
“I wouldn’t describe it as a fault, but a quality. I enjoy sex more than most men. I’ve always been that way, even before I was the Cherry Popper.”
“By the way, I told Wyatt I sold my virginity for money. This was before I knew who he was. When you showed up at my office during lunchtime and he saw you…he put the pieces together. I know I signed that NDA and I didn’t give him your name, but I didn’t mean to betray your trust. It just happened.”
Slate didn’t seem angry. “Why did you tell him that in the first place?”
“Because I went straight to a bar after I left your place. I’d been drinking, and he joined me…and I told him why I was hitting the liquor so hard.” I had no idea he was Wyatt Newton, and I had no idea he would run into Slate.
He shrugged. “All powerful men have dirty secrets. Wyatt is no different.”
“He seemed nice to me.”
“Trust me, he’s not. All men are pigs, but the rich can afford their fantasies.”
“I don’t know if I believe all men are pigs…but I think most are.”
“More than most.” He finished the last of his wine then leaned farther over the table so he could get a better look at me. “You know what my life has been like the last couple of weeks?”
I waited for his answer.
“All I did was work, workout, and then jerk off. My life was the same routine every single day. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I weren’t so depressed. I’d be in the middle of a meeting, and an image of you two would pop up in my head… It haunted me. I kept wanting to get you back, but I didn’t have anything to offer you. I told myself I was doing the right thing, that I wouldn’t change for you. But every time Max found me a woman, I turned him down. Instead of popping cherries like before, I was just alone. That’s what my life has been like…”
“Sounds lonely.”
“It was. I used to love being alone, but then it felt empty.”
If he felt that way, how could he let me go in the first place? “You were such an asshole to me. It was like you were a different person.”
“I know…” He bowed his head in shame.
“Why were you like that?”
“I needed to convince you that I was serious.”
“You could have done that in a much nicer way.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t know how to be nice.”
“You’re being nice right now.”
“I can’t control when it happens.”
“I think you can.” I grabbed the bottle and refilled both of our glasses. Now that dinner was finished and we were alone together, staring into each other’s eyes with longing, it seemed like sex was on both of our minds. Ever since the first time I’d had it, I’d been thinking about it, wanting to come like that again. I wondered if it would hurt like last time. I wondered if he would have to stretch me out a couple of times before the pain stopped altogether.
Slate stared at me like he was thinking the same thing, but he refused to act on it. I told him I didn’t want to sleep with him right away, and he seemed to take that request seriously. “If you took my check and paid off the loan, would you consider moving closer into the center of Manhattan?”
“No,” I said with a laugh. “All the money I spent on loans would just go to rent. I’ll never be able to afford anything by Central Park. I can barely afford the subway.”
“Do you intend to live in the city forever?”
“I always assumed I would get married, so we would be able to afford a townhouse much closer. Assuming he has a decent job and we can split the mortgage.” I wouldn’t be able to manage anything on my own, unless I was promoted to a much higher position.
“Or you could marry a rich guy.” Slate said the words as he looked me in the eye. “Then you could afford to live anywhere you want.”
I didn’t know if he was referring to himself or to Wyatt. “We’ll see what happens. I’m young, and I have some time before I start worrying about it.”
“You aren’t in a hurry to settle down?”
“No. If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen, whether I’m thirty or forty.”
“You have a long way before you turn thirty.”
I shrugged. “No good comes from expectations. If you set expectations for yourself and don’t meet them, you’re just setting yourself up for sadness, especially when it’s arbitrary. I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere at any specific time. Where life takes me…it’ll work out.”
He smiled. “That’s a good philosophy.”
“I think so too.” I took a long drink of my wine then left the empty glass on the table. If I kept drinking like this, I wouldn’t be able to find my way home. Now his bed seemed more appealing, especially when his sweaty body was on top of mine. “I should go. Thank you for dinner.”
“Of course.” He rose from the chair and walked me to the door. There was no argument about getting me to stay. There was one thing he wanted from me above all else, but he didn’t pressure me. “My driver will take you home.”
“He doesn’t need to do that.”
“He’s on the clock—may as well give him something to do.” He hit the button on the elevator so the doors opened. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
He circled his arms around me and brought me close into his chest. He restrained his kiss and pressed his forehead against mine as he held me on the threshold. His large hands spanned across my back completely, and he slowly moved them up as he brought me in even closer. When one of his hands reached my hair, he fisted it and gave me a deep kiss.
The kiss was just as good as the one he greeted me with. Full of passion, heat, and adoration. He cradled my head and kept me close to him, letting me feel his breath fill my lungs. His other hand snaked down to my ass, and he pulled my dress up so he could squeeze my bare cheek. He moaned as he kissed me, like he missed my ass as much as the rest of me.
If this kept going, I would be naked in no time.
I pulled away and licked my lips. “Good night.”
His hands didn’t release me right away, like he had to fight himself to be a gentleman. He lowered his hands away from my ass and hit the button again since the doors had shut. “Good night, sweetheart. I can call you that again, right?”
I stepped inside the elevator so he wouldn’t try to kiss me again. “Yes.” I held his gaze as
I watched the door close, knowing he was hard in his sweatpants because I’d felt it right against me. I knew his fingers would be wrapped around his length tonight, thinking of me, just as I would be thinking about him with my fingers under my panties.
I SAT across from Slate at the table in the restaurant. The wine bottle sat on the surface, and both of our glasses were full. Our entrees had been selected, and now we sat there in silence because there wasn’t much to say.
We were running out of things to talk about.
The basis of our relationship was sex, so it was impossible to think about anything else. Slate wanted it from me and I wanted it from him, but would it happen? I didn’t know. But when he stared at me like that across the table, I felt like the prey he would dominate the second we were alone together. This dinner seemed like a pointless task.
“Sweetheart?”
I drank my wine before I set the glass down. “Yes?”
“Do you know how to touch yourself?”
The question caught me off guard, especially since the tables around us were filled with other people. Conversations were loud, dishes clanked against tables, and utensils chattered, so our quiet words probably faded away, but it was still a question that should only happen behind closed doors. “Why do you ask?”
He wore a dark blue t-shirt with denim jeans, refusing to adhere to the dress code of nicer restaurants. He still wore his Omega watch on his wrist, so that hinted at the wealth sitting in his back pocket. His face was always his ticket inside any place, because most people in the money world knew exactly who he was. “You’re inexperienced. I’m just curious to know how inexperienced you are.”
“That would mean I haven’t had an orgasm in twenty-three years.”
He shrugged. “You haven’t had sex in twenty-three years. That’s even more shocking.”
“Yes…I know how to touch myself.” Heat moved up my neck and into my cheeks. It was an embarrassing question, and I had an embarrassing answer.
Slate’s reaction didn’t indicate his feelings on the matter. He stared at me without blinking, several heartbeats passing. His dark eyes hinted at the darkness in his soul, his disturbing tastes. “Did you do it last night?”
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