Stanton Series Box Set: Stanton Series (Box Set)

by T L Swan

“I’ll have the same.” He smirks a sexy smile at me. Bloody hell. Ok my brain has fried. I can’t even speak as I visualize exactly what he has explained to me. Orally, vaginally and anally, shit. To me that sounds like the exact thing I might like to do today. Is he trying to drive me out of my frigging head. He’s not playing fair.

  “So, precious.” My eyes snap up at the nickname he used to call me. “Do you know anyone that you could put up for an interview?” I scowl at him. He’s playing with me, the bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

  “Yes, I do actually,” I reply. Actually, no I don’t. Only me. I would rather cut off my left arm than put someone else up for that position. I scan my empty head for a witty comeback. Nope nothing, another 2 am regret coming up.

  “Are you purposely trying to turn me on?” I whisper.

  “Is that what I’m doing?” His gaze bores into me, burning holes with its heat.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “You know you are.” He inhales a deep breath through his nose as he leans back in his chair and rearranges his penis unashamedly in his pants. My eyes drop down to between his legs and I swallow a golf ball again. Ok, if he gets away from me today without giving me what I need, I am going to need sectioning myself tonight. “Why are you hard?” I can’t help myself. I have to ask.

  “I’m always hard when I talk about what I need in a wife.”

  “You have this conversation often?” I’m offended.

  “No, first time,” he smiles.

  I narrow my eyes. “Bastard,” I whisper. “Stop playing with me.” He smiles as he takes another sip of his latte. Breakfast arrives and we eat in silence. He’s seemingly relaxed, I’m practically panting at the visuals in my pea brain. Tied to a bed. Damn, yes please. “So have you had any serious girlfriends?” He shakes his head as he takes another bite. “Why not?”

  “I can’t be monogamous so,” he shrugs, “I guess it’s not fair.”

  “Huh, what do you mean you can’t be monogamous?”

  “I’ve never been with just one person.”

  I frown. “What, never?” he shakes his head again. “How do you? I mean what, so these girls you…mess around with know they are one of many?”

  “Pretty much.” I stop eating and put my knife and fork down as I frown.

  He smiles, “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You’re a frigging pig.” I answer.

  He shrugs. “I like to think I’m honest.”

  “Seriously, so girls are happy to have you for half an hour and give you back?”

  He puts his knife and fork down. “No, they get me for about four hours and when it’s over I have nothing in common with them and I don’t particularly want to spend time with them so I leave.”

  I shake my head in disgust. “You know the way you just spoke about women makes me think I have absolutely nothing in common with you anymore.”

  He looks offended, “Are you kidding?”

  “What.”

  “You think what I do is any worse than what you do?”

  “What do I do?”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Make men fall in love with you so much that they want to marry you and then you dump them when you get bored. No thanks, I would rather do it my way. Like I said, at least I don’t hurt anyone.” He raises an eyebrow.

  “I’m sure these girls get hurt,” I snap. Who in the hell does he think he is anyway, frigging Dirk Diggler?

  “Trust me, the kind of girls I go out with don’t expect more.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Can we just drop the subject because your mouth is seriously pissing me off?”

  He smirks. “I thought you liked my mouth.”

  “No, actually, not anymore. It’s a turn off to think how many women you’ve slept with.” He looks down and he butters his toast while he processes my words, but doesn’t say anything.

  He stays silent as I finish my breakfast. I know the last line I have just thrown him has hurt his feelings but I couldn’t give a rat’s ass. There is no way in hell I’m going back there if that’s how much respect he has for girls he’s intimate with. That’s right, he doesn’t even know what intimacy is. Yuk!

  “Let’s go,” I say as I finish the last of my coffee. I stand and head to the cashier. He follows and puts his hand on my lower back. I squirm away. He pays and I head to the car.

  “Where are you going?” he calls after me.

  I turn to look at him. “You can take me home now, thanks.” I turn back towards the car. I lean on the side of his Audi, my rear up against the door.

  He leans on the car next to me. “Why are you mad?” he asks as he stares straight ahead.

  “You have to ask?” I frown.

  “Natasha, I’m not monogamous because I haven’t found a girl I connected with.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  He shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe I never will.” He gives me a weak smile. That does sound a little better than what he told me ten minutes ago.

  “Why didn’t you just say that instead of being so seedy?”

  He bumps his shoulder into mine. “You don’t like seedy?” he smirks.

  “I hate seedy.” I bite my bottom lip to stifle my smile.

  “Anyway, I thought I was taking you pyjama shopping.”

  “What’s wrong with my pyjamas?” I gasp.

  “You have to ask?” he smiles as he throws my line back at me.

  I narrow my eyes. “Ok but I’m picking, I want another flannelette pair.”

  He feigns a disgusted face. “Flannelette,” he repeats. “I hate flannelette.”

  “Well nobody sees my pyjamas and I like them,” I smile.

  His face drops. “Why does nobody see your pyjamas?”

  I shrug and peek up at him, hating myself for revealing so much information. “It seems I have the opposite problem to you Josh.” I quickly start to walk up the road. I am not having this conversation with him—how embarrassing. He doesn’t follow, he stands still and I know I’ve shocked him. I turn. “Are you coming?” I yell out.

  He nods and starts toward me. He reaches me and links his arm with mine as we turn the corner. “How long?” he blurts out.

  “What?” I ask.

  “How long?” he asks again.

  I shake my head. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Josh, forget it.”

  “Natasha, I need to know.” He stops still.

  “Why?” I frown.

  “I just do,” he repeats.

  “Years, Josh, it’s been years.”

  “Years,” he repeats. “Why has, I mean that’s not possible, I mean.” He stops again still. He looks at me and all traces of amusement have left his face. I can’t help it, I giggle. “What?” He looks shocked. “What’s funny?”

  “You are,” I answer.

  “How am I funny?”

  “Why are you so shocked I haven’t been with anyone for a long time?”

  “You had a boyfriend for years. Do you expect me to believe you didn’t sleep with him?”

  “Believe what you want, you asked me.”

  “Why?” he whispers. I shrug. “Tell me” he demands. I stay silent, my eyes searching his. I want him to work this out for himself. He must know how I feel about him, surely he can’t be that stupid.

  “Listen, are you taking me shopping or not?” He nods. “Just drop the twenty questions ok.”

  He seems to regain his composure. “Ok,” he nods. “Where to?”

  “I have to buy a dress for a wedding in three weeks.”

  “Whose wedding?”

  “A girl I went to uni with. Actually, will you come with me?”

  ”What, to the wedding?” he frowns. I smile. “No I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he answers.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you know it’s not like that between us anymore Tash.” Did he just really say that? I fake a smile and rearrange my shirt to hide my hurt.

  “I know but we are friends, aren’t we?”


  He nods. “Yes, but that’s not what I meant.”

  ”I know what you meant. If you don’t want to come, I can ask Simon.”

  His face drops. “You want to ask Syral.”.

  I roll my eyes. “It’s Simon. I’m sure he would love to pick up the slack,” I whisper. I’m wicked. I’m so playing him right now. Come on, baby. Take the bait. “Well, if you won’t come with me as a friend then I’m sure he would come as a friend. You know what I mean. Pick up the slack, so to speak.” I smile sweetly at him.

  His voice drops several degrees. “Are you threatening me?”

  “What do you mean?” I quickly duck into a boutique to change the subject. Ok, I’ve planted the seed. Let’s watch it grow. He follows me and stands just to my left as I start to flick through the clothes on the rack. I can feel the heat radiating from his body. I inhale deeply, he sure does smell good. The idiotic shopgirl’s jaw is on the ground as she stares, yes, stares at my shopping companion. I turn back to see what she is looking at. Joshua is leaning up against a pole with his hands behind his posterior and his eyes closed. He’s obviously tired. I smile. Yes, if I saw a god like him in a store I would stare too. He looks perfect and a disturbing thought enters my brain. I am totally punching above my weight here with him. Utterly gorgeous, crazy rich and so intense in the bedroom that he’d bring any woman with a pulse to her knees. Basically he could pick out any woman he wants. And here I am thinking I can make him jealous with Simon, frigging Simon, the motormouth. What am I thinking? He opens his eyes on a start and quickly looks around. I give him a broad smile. He shuffles his feet and returns his own beaming smile and mouths the words, “Sorry, tired.”

  I nod. “Me too,” I mouth back.

  “Come on,” I grab his hand and lead him to the change rooms. The familiar heat rises from where we touch. He’s on fire. I am armed with ten dresses, surely something will fit. I sit him on the large velvet chair just outside the change room. He doesn’t seem to know the drill.

  “You want me to sit here?” he asks.

  I nod and smile. “Yes, haven’t you been shopping for girl’s clothes before?”

  He does wide eyes at me. “No, why would I?”

  “What about other girlfriends?” I look puzzled.

  He smiles a broad smile as he runs his hand through his hair. “So you’re my other girlfriend now?”

  I smirk, embarrassed at my slip–up. “You know what I mean.”

  He nods. “No, I avoid shopping at all costs. The only person who drags me shopping is Adrian and that’s a painful experience, I would rather have my teeth pulled out.” I head into the change room. Thirty minutes later I have tried all of my dresses on. Josh has been the perfect gentleman and waited for me, without as much as a whinge. He hasn’t even asked to see what I’m trying on which is basically a prerequisite when shopping with someone. The last dress I try on is definitely something I would not normally wear. A very cute Sass and Bide number. It’s black and skintight with leather panels down the side, a high back and low front. Frankly, I’m loving myself sick in it and I decide to set a trap. The back zipper is hard to reach so I decide to put to use my shopping buddy rights.

  “Josh, can you come in here for a minute”

  “Huh, in there?”

  “Yes, that’s what I said, didn’t I?”

  “Um ok.” He pulls the curtain over and steps inside, looking uncomfortable. His gaze travels down the length of my body.

  “Pull the curtain closed,” I whisper. He turns and closes it behind him. His eyes drop once more. “What the fuck are you wearing?” The atmosphere in the change room suddenly becomes thick with want. My pulse quickens. His eyes come back up to my face, his jaw ticks and he cracks his neck. Jackpot. I love it when he does that. I don’t know if it’s what I’m wearing or the fact we are alone. But I want him—I want him now. His eyes drop to my hardened nipples and his mouth drops open with arousal as he takes a deep breath.

  “Fuck Tash,” he whispers as he closes his eyes, trying to block me out. “You need to get that dress off now if you want to walk out of here untouched.”

  I smile and bite my lip. “I’d better leave it on then.”

  He closes his eyes. “Stop it.”

  “No,” I whisper. The next second he grabs me and spins me around so my back is to his front. We stare silently at our reflection in the mirror, each breath deeper than the last. His hands splay across my lower stomach and he pulls me back into his hard length. My head goes back to lean on his chest and my eyes close.

  “Precious girl, you fucking turn me on, do you know that?” he whispers.

  I can’t stop myself. I have to play. “What turns you on about me?”

  His eyes drop once more.

  “The curve of your waist. I love how you’re cinched in here.” He runs his finger from my breast down to the curve of my waist. “And those beautiful tits.” He brings his lips down to the base of my neck and runs his open mouth back up to the top as he tightens his grip on my stomach. “Your smile.” Goose bumps have scattered all over my body.

  “My smile?” I whisper.

  “Yes, your smile, it melts me. Those dimples,” he bites my neck hard. “I fucking love them.” Of all the things I thought he would say, that was the last, but for some reason it means the most.

  “Josh,” I whisper as I bring my hand up around the back of his neck. My head drops back again. No longer able to resist, I turn to face him and we stand in silence. Our eyes lock.

  “Can I help you in there? How are you going for sizes?” The idiot sales clerk is back. For fuck’s sake, will everybody stop interrupting us? I’m about to lose it. He jumps back and runs his both hands through his hair. Obviously as frustrated as I am.

  “No thanks, I am taking the one I’ve got.”

  Josh comes close to my ear and whispers. “You are not wearing that dress to the wedding.”

  I frown at him. “Watch me.”

  “I mean it, don’t fuck with me.”

  I scowl at him. “You can’t tell me what to wear, Joshua.”

  “Yes I can, and since when have you called me Joshua?” he mutters as he leaves the change room. I narrow my eyes at myself in the mirror as I redress. I call you Joshua when you piss me off, asshole, and recently that’s all the bloody time.

  I exit to see him at the cashier with his credit card out. He looks at me deadpan. I walk over and place the last two dresses on the counter and get my wallet out.

  “I’ve got it,” he snaps. I roll my eyes and wish the annoying sales clerk would leave so I can tell him to fuck right off. Who does he think he is?

  We walk to the car in silence. I’m not playing his stupid game. If he’s got the shits then he can come clean about what. I’m not asking. He stalks into a coffee shop just where the car is parked. After ordering us two coffees he returns to where I have sat. He sits and starts to read the paper that has been left on the table. Am I in the twilight zone? What the hell just happened? One minute he is telling me my smile turns him on and biting my neck. The next minute he’s snapping orders. I’m too tired to deal with this shit today. I’ve hardly slept all week. I wait for my coffee in silence. His name is called and he goes and retrieves our order. I take it without a thank you. If he wants rude, two can play at that game. He sips his coffee while watching me. I ignore him.

  “You are not wearing that dress with Syral.”

  “It’s Simon,” I roll my eyes. “And yes I am. I gave you the chance to be my date and you turned it down, remember.”

  He shakes his head as he drinks his coffee. “I told you, don’t threaten me.”

  “And I told you, don’t tell me what to do.”

  “When did I tell you what to do?”

  “When you told me not to wear the dress.”

  “I mean to the wedding for Chrissake. Someone will fuck you on the bridal table.”

  I break into a smile—surely he can’t be serious. “You had better come then, to protect me.�
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  His eyes twinkle and he shakes his head. “Who will protect you from me?” He gives me a wink as he sips his coffee.

  I smile. Bastard, he’s got me. “Are you coming or not?”

  “Yes,” he snaps.

  Hah! I won. I chalk up a silent victory. “Can you take me home now?” I say sweetly as I bat my eyelids. “You’ve dragged me around the shops enough for today.” He smirks as he shakes his head.

  The drive home is awkward. I am deep in thought about how I can prolong our visit and I have no idea what’s running through his mind. Twice though, he cracks his neck. So that’s a good sign. He pulls up at my house and turns off his car but he seems nervous. I’m nervous—can I do this?

  “Do you want to come up for coffee?” I grab his hand. I internally kick myself. Coffee, we just had frigging coffee. What a lame thing to say. He looks down at our entwined fingers as he swallows and I can almost hear his brain ticking.

  “It’s not a good idea, presh.” The sound of him calling me presh which is short for precious, his pet name for me, opens a wound in my chest that I can’t deny. I nod, unable to speak. I can feel the tears forming. I don’t want to say goodbye. What’s going on with me? I’m acting like a lovesick fifteen–year–old. My eyes cloud over and I go to quickly get out of the car before he sees. Too late, he grabs me by the arm.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispers. I shake my head, the lump in my throat blocking my vocals.

  “Tash, talk to me.”

  “I don’t want to say goodbye, Josh.” His eyes drop. “We can’t even be friends, can we?” I ask.

  “We can be friends, Tash. It just can’t be like it was with us.”

  “I know,” I whisper. I get out of the car and turn and give him a wave. “Thanks for taking me shopping,” I smile. He nods but doesn’t say anything. I head into the building and take the stairs. I need to clear my brain. I feel so needy. This is unlike me. I walk into my apartment, head for my bedroom and flop onto the bed. Hot tears are wetting my cheeks and I don’t even know why. That’s a lie. I do. I want him to want me as much as I want him. I head to my therapy of choice and have a steaming hot shower. I sit on the bottom of the shower feeling sorry for myself, like I have done thousands of times before. The tears have stopped finally. I’m in there so long the room is full of steam. I stand up and open the door so I can turn the fan on. I’m hit with the visual of Joshua leaning up against the wall in the bathroom. How long has he been there watching me? Did he hear me cry? His eyes search mine for the second time today and my breath catches.