by Jenika Snow
17
Sorcha slowly opened her eyes, and blinked away the blurriness. It was dark outside still, and the view from the balcony windows showed the lights of the park and the city. She had shifted during the night and found herself on her back. Rian was on his stomach with his head turned away from her.
The memories of what they had done just hours before replayed in her mind like a movie reel on fast-forward. Her body was sticky from the sweat that had dried, and she was so sore between her thighs that the slightest movement had discomfort filling her. Rian wasn’t grotesquely huge in size or length, but he was endowed well enough that she couldn’t believe how stretched and filled she had felt with him inside of her. For a few minutes she just lay there, thinking about how she had gotten to this part of her life.
She glanced at him again, watched as his back moved up and down in even intervals from breathing, and gently moved toward the edge of the bed. She needed to use the restroom, wash her face, and stretch her legs. Once she was off the bed she took the throw that was over the chair and wrapped her naked body in it.
She glanced at Rian again, saw him in the same position, and for a second just watched him sleep. He had fucked her, savagely, brutally, and without remorse.
But strangely enough she had liked every minute of it. But then he had showed her a glimpse of the human inside of him, the one that did have a conscience. He said she could stop it if he was going too fast, and that had meant a lot to her. Still not enough to make her dislike him any less, but it did show her that he wasn’t a bastard all the time.
She used the restroom and cleaned off, and then slipped back into the room. The bed beckoned her again, and she felt her eyes grow heavy, but she wanted this one moment to herself. She turned toward the balcony and opened it quietly.
Once outside she shut the door behind her to block out the sounds of the city from Rian, and moved toward the ledge. She had meant it when she said if she closed her eyes it felt like she was flying. Bracing one hand on the banister and keeping the throw tightly secured at her chest, she closed her eyes. The wind blew her hair around her face, and this chill crept under her skin.
She opened her eyes and stared at the scene before her. To see this part of the city unobstructed and from this height was truly a sight, and one she’d never forget. No matter how this week ended, she would be thankful she at least got to experience something out of the ordinary, and one that had taken her mind off of her troubles.
She could have stayed out there all night, but she finally turned away and made her way back to the bed. As she slipped the blanket from her body, goose-bumps popped out along her flesh, and she shivered.
“Come back to bed, Sorcha.” Rian’s deep voice was slightly muffled, and he was in the same position as he was in when she left the room. He turned just his head, and although it was too dark for her to see his face, she knew he was looking at her naked body. She could feel his gaze on her as if he had reached out and touched her himself.
He shifted on the bed so his body was facing her now, pulled the blanket back, and waited for her to slip under the covers. A swatch of light came through the blinds just then, and she got a glimpse of his hard-on. Instantly she became wet, felt her nipples harden, and wondered if this was going to be her reaction every time with him, or if it was the novelty of being with him and this situation.
She got on the bed, faced him, and then shivered slightly when he pulled the covers over her. And then he leaned in to kiss her, and placed his hands between her thighs. No, this was definitely not a novelty, because she wanted him to fuck her not because she had signed the contract, but because this was Rian Hartford.
18
It was the following morning, and she blinked a few times to clear her vision. She was pleasantly sore between her thighs, and all she could think about was the two times she had been with him last night.
She realized she was the only one in bed. It was that empty feeling, that cold sensation of the spot next to her that told her she was alone. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.
For a few seconds all she did was lie there, waiting for the realization of what she had been doing with him to hit her like a brick to the face. She felt something strange in terms of her emotions toward Rian after he had taken her the second time, but she couldn’t really understand what she felt that was so different.
The clock on the wall said it was barely six in the morning, but with Rian out of bed she couldn’t stay here and just wait for him to come to her. She went into the bathroom for a quick shower. The bathroom itself was the size of her kitchen and living room combined, and covered in glass and stainless steel accents.
There was the massive shower enclosed in glass that could easily fit several adults, and three showerheads that would surround her once she was inside.
She slipped the throw she had wrapped herself in onto the ground, padded over to the shower, and turned it on. The room slowly started to fill up with steam, and the heat from the water started to make her skin damp. She turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and let her gaze travel down her nude body.
Leaning forward and running her hand over the glass to clear the fog, she stared at the little fingertip-sized bruises that lined her hips. She ran her fingers over them, remembered how they had gotten there, and felt this tingle start to encompass her.
God, she felt like a nympho. No, she wouldn’t think about this in any other context than she was fulfilling her end of the deal, and once it was said and done she could put this all behind her.
You’re a fool to think you can, especially when you work for the man.
That was true, but then again, she could fake it like she had many times. She could hide her feelings for him, let her anger and hatred for Rian Hartford fill her instead of being buried beneath her desire to have him.
All she kept thinking about was Rian walking in and joining her. The idea was tempting, arousing even, but she didn’t want to fall even harder for this man. Right now it was just about the sex and the pleasure she wanted from him, and she was sure it was the same way for him.
Her thoughts went to when they had been together for the second time, how he had been slow, easy, and it had seemed like he was making love to her.
He had whispered things in her ear that were endearments, how beautiful her body was, and how good she felt. It was like a completely different person from the man she loved to hate. If he kept showing her little glimpses of a decent man inside of the bastard he portrayed ninety-nine percent of the time, Sorcha had a feeling she might start to look at him in a different light.
After her shower she grabbed the thick, white robe that was folded with the towels, and slipped it on. She had forgotten to grab her clothes, and although Rian had already seen every part of her last night, that didn’t mean she was comfortable with walking around nude. Sorcha was curvy, thick with plenty of flaws. What exactly had he been thinking when she was naked in front of him?
Who the hell cares what he thought?
Leaving the bathroom and heading over to her bag she dressed in a tunic style blouse and a pair of black leggings. She finger-combed her hair, and then twisted the long, wet strands into a messy bun. Sorcha had never been one for primping, not even when she went into the office.
If she was going to be with Rian for the next week then he’d need to get used to seeing her without the business dresses and skirts, without her hair curled or straightened, and with no make-up on.
Heading out of the room and down the long, ornate hallway, she stopped in the entryway and stared into the living room. Everything was pretty still, and even with the view of the city right in front of her, the glass was thick and no sound penetrated it. Sorcha felt like this fish in a clear bowl, just waiting for someone to come up and start tapping on the glass.
The kitchen was just as quiet as the living room, and a glance down the hallway again showed that there was no movement from the three open doorways. Was h
e gone? She would have assumed he would have told her at least. Rian didn’t have any appointments for a couple of days, and that was for a dinner gala for a charity organization.
She slipped back down the hallway, glanced in the doorways, and saw the expensively decorated bedrooms. There were three in the apartment, two bathrooms, the kitchen and living room, and then one other door at the end of the hallway that was closed. Making her way toward it, she knew she should just wait for him to come back to her. This was his home, it was early, and maybe he wanted some alone time?
She thought that, but still reached out and gripped the handle, turned it, and pushed the door open. Inside was another room, but this one was broken up into two levels. She saw the banister from the stairs as they descended to the lower level. She stepped inside, glanced around, and saw the hundreds upon hundreds of books. They lined the floor to ceiling shelves on either side of her.
There were a few couches on either side as well, a reading nook pressed against the window, and a desk in the corner. Clearly this was his office, and she felt very out of place, almost like she was invading his privacy.
The sound of something pounding had her moving toward the stairs and gripping the banister. The wrought iron railing was cold beneath her touch. She leaned forward, looked down at the lower level, and saw a weight bench peeking out from the corner. Should she go down there, or wait for him to come to her?
“Screw it.” Sorcha moved around the banister and stepped down the stairs. The pounding noise came through even louder, more pronounced with each step she took. When she reached the bottom the view she instantly got was of Rian on a treadmill, his back toward her, and the early morning sun casting light on his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and sweat that lined his flesh. Was it humanly possible for a man to have a back that was this attractive?
He was only in a pair of loose hanging track shorts, shirtless of course, and wearing running shoes. Even though his back was toward her she saw the earbuds he wore. Watching him unobstructed, and in his element, was still unusual to her. Even after seeing him relaxed and they had slept together, it was still so strange.
“You’re up,” he said between panting breaths, but didn’t turn to look at her or stop running. He removed his earbuds and ran for another few minutes before slowing down to a walk, and then stopping altogether. For a few moments all he did was brace his hands on the treadmill handles, breathed in and out, and then grabbed the towel hanging beside him and wiped off his face.
When he turned around she took in his sweaty chest, all hard, perfect muscles. He was lean and toned, not bulky like a bodybuilder, but still very powerful. He stared at her while he dried off his chest, and she found herself watching as he moved that towel lower, took in the defined V of muscle that disappeared beneath his low hanging shorts, and then snapped her gaze up to his face again.
“You already took a shower?” His breathing was returning to normal, and even though he asked a question he turned from her and grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge on the granite countertop. This place was set-up like a mini gym she’d find in New York. Several different pieces of workout equipment were scattered around the generous room, the same incredible view lined one wall, and he had a small kitchenette off to the side.
She nodded even though his back was to her, and then licked her lips. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “Can’t sleep without me, huh?” he said with a straight face.
She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed out. “You’re conceited.” Although he was right.
He smiled widely, ran the towel one last time over his face, and then tossed it aside.
“Yeah, I can be, but I think deep down you’re into it.”
Sorcha didn’t even give him a response to that.
“You hungry?”
She shrugged. “Kind of, but I’m not really a morning person, even when you request my presence at the office at the ass crack of dawn.”
He chuckled deeply. “How about I take you to get some breakfast at a little bakery, and then take you shopping for a gown for the party in a couple of days?”
She was a bit taken back by what he just said. “You want to take me shopping?”
“Is it hard to believe that I want to make you look nice for when I take you out?” He lifted an eyebrow.
She would have been a little girly at the prospect that he wanted her to look nice, but she knew under that saccharine intent that he didn’t want her wearing her “rags” to his high-class and rich and elegant events. “I brought some dresses that I can wear. No need for you to spend unnecessarily on me.”
He was silent for a second and then moved closer to her. The scent of his clean sweat filled her nose when he was just a few feet from her. He reached out and grabbed her around the nape, pulled her forward so she stumbled right into his chest, and claimed her mouth. For several seconds he kissed her, stroking her with his tongue, and making her taste the saltiness of his perspiration.
She grabbed his biceps, loved the heat and wetness that covered his skin, and couldn’t stop herself from moaning. She moved her hands over his chest, felt the bumps and ridges of his muscles under her palm, and continued her downward path. But before she could let her need and strength at the moment take control he was pulling away from her.
“I want to dress you up, Sorcha.” He stared at her. “I’m sure what you have is fine, perfect for the evening, too, but I want to do this.” There was this flash of something that moved across his face, covered his eyes, and made her feel … special to this man. How could being with him for such a short time make her blind to who he really was? “I want to make you look stunning, want to have everyone else know you’re mine—”
“You want to dress me like your doll, make me look like I have just as much money as you do.” She stated it without question. She saw the way he clenched his jaw, but Sorcha wasn’t about to bite her tongue with him, or take back what she had just said. It was the truth.
He was silent for a moment, and she knew she’d struck a nerve with him. “You don’t have a choice, Sorcha. I’m already getting tired of you not realizing or understanding that.”
“Oh, I remember just fine. I signed the contract, right? But then again you like my mouthy little attitude.”
He turned from her, and she felt that euphoric feeling she had inside of her leave. “I’ll be ready to go in thirty minutes.” He looked at her again over her shoulder. “You can watch television upstairs and wait for me.”
And just like that he dismissed her.
The asshole.
19
Sorcha looked at herself in the mirror of the department store and cringed. Rian had taken her to this little bakery and coffee shop on the outskirts of town, one that was quaint and not a place she’d think he would frequent.
And she meant that in the best way, because it resembled a mom and pop establishment, and one that she would have gone to alone. The Dutch style pastries had been fresh and homemade and the coffee bursting with flavor.
They’d sat at this little wooden table with an uneven leg, and it had wobbled anytime they had leaned on it. It had been nice though, and she had liked watching Rian interact with Ingrid and her elderly husband, Petre. He had even greeted them in Dutch, and she wondered if he spoke the language fluently, or if he had picked up the language from coming here a lot.
She hadn’t asked though, because the silence that had been between them had been comfortable, and … nice.
But now she was at the small boutique that had closed up for Rian’s appearance strictly. It was weird being in this ritzy part of the city, going into a shop and seeing clothing that cost more than her bi-weekly paycheck, and weirder yet that she was trying it on.
The dress she had on in specific was this deep green one that was cut low, showed off her breasts, which looked huge by the way, and was short enough that she knew if she bent over she’d give everyone a crotch shot.
> The knock on the dressing room door had her heart racing and her hands sweating. “Yeah?” She cleared her throat when her voice cracked on the end. She was nervous and felt fat and ugly in this skin-tight dress. It was a no-go for her, but then again Rian had the last say.
“Let me see, Sorcha.” His voice was deep and filled with authority, and she found herself closing her eyes and saying a little prayer.
“Hold on,” she said and opened her eyes to look at herself in the mirror. Her tits looked good, but she had too many bumps and dips that were being amplified by the silky material for her to feel comfortable at all. She turned around and opened the door, and used all of her reserved strength not to cover herself up. Rian stood on the other side, his hands in the front pockets of his dress slacks, and his gaze raking over her body.
“Well, what do you think of it?” he said and lifted his blue gaze to her face again. The front of his slacks started to tent his pants, and she felt her face heat. The man was insatiable.
“Does it matter what I think of it?”
He was silent for a moment. “Yes, it does. Stop being dramatic, Sorcha, and tell me what you think of the dress.”
“I hate it,” she said without hesitance. “It makes me look even fatter, and I so don’t need that. I honestly didn’t even think they made a size sixteen in this place, and besides, it fits like a ten.”
He scowled and took a step forward. “You’re not fat.”
She was the one to scowl now. “Seriously? Okay, take your pick then: voluptuous, curvy, thick, chunky, chubby.” She lifted an eyebrow, an act that she had seen him do so many times before. “I hate the damn thing, Rian.” Sorcha knew she was a “bigger” girl, knew that in this society a size sixteen was flat out obese.
But she had never been so self-conscious of her looks until this moment when she was trying on these clothes. Heck, she hadn’t even thought twice about being naked in front of him when they had had sex.