[Forever After 01.0] Marry Me for Money

by Mia Kayla

  “It’s because of this one beautiful girl who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She’s the reason that my father looks at me from across the boardroom with pride in his eyes. Maybe that’s why my mother hugs me a little tighter now, and I didn’t even think that was remotely possible.” He leaned in. “Your push is the reason I’m here.”

  I looked at where his hand met my flesh. “I’m happy for you. Good luck, Kent.” I pulled my wrist back but the warmth from his touch was still present.

  He leaned into me and my breath caught. “Beth, I…I miss you,” he exhaled, his voice breaking.

  I missed him, too, but I couldn’t afford to say it, especially since I was leaving. I bit my cheek and gave him a sad smile. “I took a job in California. I leave in a few days.” I’d had no intentions of telling him, but then again, I never thought I’d see him again.

  He paused, taking my words in. “California?” he asked.

  “It’s a good opportunity. I’ll be working for my same boss. It’s going to be great,” I said, speaking quickly.

  “Is this because of me?” he asked, his eyes tormented.

  “No, it’s not,” I lied, shaking my head. “It’s because of me. I need a change of pace. I need something new.”

  He met my eyes and then looked to the floor. Jim peeked inside the conference room and signaled that it was time to go before he walked away.

  “Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to say thank you…for being there for me with my mom problems and…for everything. I wish you would just cash those checks I send you for paying my bills.”

  “You earned it. That money is yours,” he said. “Stop sending me checks because I won’t cash them.” He reached for my hand again and linked our fingers together. It was the most intimate of holds, the warmth of his hand spreading throughout my body. “I don’t want you to go,” he said softly.

  I thought I was going to lose it at seeing the unshed tears in his eyes. I searched his face, and before he could say any more, I pulled back my hand. “I’m so proud of you, Kent. I wish you the best.”

  I turned and walked quickly out of the room, so he wouldn’t see me cry.

  On my hands and knees, I taped the last of my moving boxes. I glanced around me. My apartment was bare. No pictures remained on the wall, and throw pillows and blankets were packed away. Tomorrow, I’d be off to California to start a new life yet again. Hopefully, this time, it wouldn’t be as complicated.

  I stood, pulled my high ponytail a little tighter, and looked at the clock. I’d been packing all day, and I’d forgotten to eat lunch, so I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

  I found myself at a local cafe down the street, and as I took the last few bites of my panini, I mentally made a list of what else I needed to accomplish before the move. After eating, I strolled back toward my apartment, walking slowly to take in the city view for one of the very last times. The sounds of cars bustling around me and the train overhead filled my ears.

  Then, I saw him and stopped. Just the sight of him made my heart hurt. He took my breath away, and the flood of butterflies stirred in the pit of my stomach. I walked toward him at a painfully slow pace.

  “Hey,” Kent said. A dimple emerged as he lifted up a McDonald’s bag. “McRib sandwich?”

  I smiled, and his eyes lit up in response.

  “I didn’t know you ate McDonald’s,” I said shyly.

  “I don’t, but I thought if I ever did, I wanted my first experience to be with you.”

  I suddenly became wistful but I had to stop because I couldn’t let myself feel this way. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I just needed a clean break. I was tired of feeling this way, gutted and heartbroken.

  “I already had lunch.” I fiddled with my keys and squinted up at him. “Kent, what are you doing here?”

  “Can I come up?” he asked with a slight hesitation in his voice.

  “I’m packing.”

  I didn’t want to see the hurt in his eyes, but it was there.

  His eyes dropped to the McDonald’s bag that he was holding before meeting mine. “Come on, Beth. We eat together. That’s what we do.”

  I sighed because it was the truth. It was what had brought us together as friends. I knew I shouldn’t allow it, but in the end, it didn’t matter. I was leaving tomorrow.

  I walked past him and held the door open as he followed behind me. We were silent on the way up in the elevator. I stared at the red numbers indicating our ascent to each floor as I felt his eyes burning a hole on the side of my face.

  When I walked into the apartment, I dropped my keys on the counter. He stared at the stack of packed boxes near the TV.

  “You’re leaving,” he whispered.

  “You knew this.”

  “I guess it just feels real now.” He shifted and walked toward me.

  I took a step back until I felt the kitchen counter behind me. “Kent…” I warned, putting both hands up to stop him from inching forward.

  “I just want to talk.”

  “We’ve talked enough. I can’t do this. It’s like we’re breaking up all over again even though we were never really together,” I said, my voice trembling.

  “Beth, hear me out. I’ll regret it if you walk away and I never laid it all out on the table.”

  I bit my cheek and stared at my hands that were now clutched together.

  “It’s hard for me to do this, to talk about my feelings. I’ve been thinking of what I should have done, how I could have made things turn out differently. I realize I messed things up, myself.”

  I glanced up at the intensity of his voice as he inched closer.

  “You know, I was so used to things being how they were, what I did day by day. It was routine. I was content. Life was just fine as I knew it—going out with Luke every night and living life as I did.” He took another step forward. “Like I said, I was content and fine living that way. Then, I met you. Who knew eating, watching reality TV, and just talking was more than fine? It was fun. Spending time with you was what I looked forward to every day. Then, you left me…and I’ve never been so miserable. I’ve always gotten everything I’ve ever wanted. When you left, I felt like I’d lost it all. I’ve never felt emptier.

  When you said you loved me, I got scared. I was scared of the unknown, scared of ever hurting you. Mostly, I was scared of my feelings for you. I’ve never felt this way toward anybody before. The way I feel about you, Beth…it scares me.”

  He moved to lift my chin to face him. “I’ve fallen utterly and deeply in love with you,” he said, meeting my eyes. “And the more I tried to stop it, the more I tried to get back to the friendship we had, where we were before, the more those feelings intensified,” he said.

  “Beth, when I’m with you, I’m more than fine. I’m happy. It’s effortless, and I want that back. I want you. I want a chance to work hard to earn you. I want to earn your love. I want to be the man you deserve. I want a chance to give you that movie ending. I want to be your once-upon-a-time, your dream come true, and your happily ever after. Just give me a chance. Have faith in me.”

  He brushed a tear from my face. It was only then when I realized I had been crying.

  “It’s like having vanilla ice cream all your life,” he began, a dimple emerging. “And being content with vanilla ice cream because that’s all you ever knew. Then, someone introduces you to chocolate ice cream and your life is forever changed.” He framed my face with his hands. “And you never knew life could be so good. I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I, for one, cannot live without chocolate ice cream.”

  I stared into his liquid chestnut eyes. I saw the truth and his sincerity as he’d poured his heart out.

  He’d spoken a language I understood. I didn’t want to live without chocolate ice cream either.

  So, I took a leap of faith.

  I lifted my lips to his to answer his silent plea.

  And chocolate had never tasted better.

  Everyt
hing had gone back to normal. I was terrified to tell my boss that Kent and I had reconciled, especially since Financial State had invested in moving me to California. My job had been my life—that was, until I’d decided that Kent was encompassed in that whole glob of my life. I had been prepared to do long distance until I could figure out what I was going to do with my job.

  But when I had called Renee and fearfully delved into all that had happened between Kent and me, she had been more than understanding. That might have been because she was a woman, so she knew these things could happen.

  I had offered to move to California for a short period of time until they could find a replacement, but I’d told her that it could never be permanent because my future, my life, and everything in it included Kent. Renee had told me that she’d discuss it with upper management as an option, but in the end, Financial State had offered back my original position in Chicago.

  So, every day was routine—wake up, work, dinner, and make out with the hottest husband alive.

  He was the one who had suggested we go slow, and I’d agreed. Given that we’d started off as friends and had been thrown into a whole pretend-marriage situation, it only made sense that we started dating as a real couple.

  When he’d said we should take it slow, I hadn’t thought he meant painfully slow, like snail or turtle slow—as in will-this-madness-ever-end slow.

  The first few days were fine. I felt like I was in high school again—going out on dates, making out in the last row of the movie theater, going to second base in the back of his Bentley while parked in an alley, and making it to third base on his couch. But after the fifth date of only making it to third, my insides were about to combust. I really wanted him to take me to home plate, but he would always be the first to stop when I gave him every indication that it was okay to make that home run.

  Every night after our date, we’d end up in the same position in the same place—on his couch with barely any clothes on. I knew if we made it to his bedroom, it would be game over for sure, and I would always try to make it to his bedroom. For some reason though, he’d stop before we even got to that point.

  While I was only in my bra and skirt and he was shirtless, I pulled his lips back to mine. His masculine scent filled my nose as I tugged on his drawstring pants. I trapped him, wrapping my legs around his waist, as I bit his upper lip ever so slightly. I pushed my pelvis up to meet his hardness, and moved against him until we created this sensation that made it difficult for us to breathe.

  His lips trailed kisses from my cheek to my ear until his tongue met that spot on my neck that always drove me mad. My head fell back, and I closed my eyes, enjoying every sensation coursing from where his lips touched to the pit of my stomach to in between my thighs.

  My breathing accelerated to match his when I felt his hand inch underneath my skirt before sliding up my thigh. I let my knees fall to the sides to accommodate him, and when he pierced me with his fingers, creating that sensual friction between my legs, a small moan of pleasure escaped my lips.

  I lost all control. I lifted my head and attacked his lips, pushing my tongue to meet his. I dropped my hand and rubbed his hardness against his cotton pants as I heard his labored breathing through his nose. When my hand moved to the waistband of his pants, his kisses and his fingers slowed, just like it had the night before and the night before that and the night before that night.

  “No, don’t stop,” I said against his lips. I moved my hand against his, which was still lodged in me.

  His head dropped to the crook of my neck. “What happened to nice and slow?” He exhaled as he tried to control his breathing.

  “I don’t want nice and slow. I want it hard and fast,” I whined as he stopped moving against me.

  His fingers moved to my outer thigh, and he hovered above me, using one arm for support. “It’s hasn’t even been a week since we officially got together.”

  “So?” I pouted, peering at him through my lashes, all the passion now gone. “Seriously, what’s the point? Whether it’s one week or one day, it’s not like you’re robbing me of my virtue. Someone else did that years ago.”

  The dimple on his cheek emerged as he looked down at me. “You’re adorable right now, you know that?”

  He kissed the top of my nose, and I pouted like a five-year-old.

  “I like how you think I’m cute when I’m going to die of sexual frustration!” I huffed, pulling my eyebrows in. I turned my face to the side and feigned sadness. “It’s like you don’t even want me as much as I want you,” I said softly, hoping he’d feel bad and just take me.

  My breath hitched when he lay flush against me and pushed his hardness in between my legs.

  “Does this feel like I don’t want you?” he whispered before nipping at my chin. He pushed his length even closer to my core and moved a trail of kisses up my neck to below my ear. “I’ve never wanted anyone so badly,” he said softly, his breath tickling my neck. “The first time I make love to you, I’m going to make you come over and over again until you beg me to stop. We’re going to make love on every surface of my condo and every time we are alone. You’re going to be so sore that you won’t be able to walk, yet you’ll beg me for more. And you know what? I’ll gladly be the one to satisfy your need.” His tongue traced a path from the top of my outer ear to the bottom. “And that’s why it’s worth the wait.”

  I couldn’t move. I held my breath. I couldn’t do anything as everything south tingled from anticipation of his promises to come.

  He pushed himself off of me, and I tried to trap him again with my legs.

  “Don’t go,” I begged. I gave him the biggest puppy-dog eyes that I swore would work.

  “We have work tomorrow, and I don’t want you to be tired.” He kissed me and pulled me to a sitting position.

  For someone who had slept with practically every girl in Chicago, I was surprised by his self-control. During the past week, every time we had found ourselves in the same situation, I’d transformed into a begging, whining little bimbo. I’d practically torn my clothes off, hoping he’d forego the slow and give in to the hard and fast. I’d been staying in his condo but only in the guest bedroom per his insistence. Half the time, I’d been tempted to strip down and surprise him by walking down the hall and slipping right next to him.

  “I’m not talking to you,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me as he stood. “I want to have hot, passionate sex, so I’m no longer frustrated, and I can finally sleep soundly. Until then, I’m not talking to you.”

  He moved in front of me, forcing me to drop my crossed arms. I gave in and leaned against his hand caressing the side of my face as our eyes met, his chestnut brown to my emerald green.

  “I love you, Bethany Casse,” he said, his eyes shining.

  The words he’d never spoken to anyone else softened me.

  He leaned down to meet my lips and pecked me sweetly. “If you don’t talk to me, how will I know what you want for breakfast?”

  I kissed him one last time and stood from the couch. “Fine. I’m not talking to you tonight,” I said as I stomped toward the guest room. “I want bacon and eggs in the morning. Thank you.” I didn’t look back because if I saw my beautiful male with his tousled hair and hard, toned abs, I’d lose all self-control and propel myself toward him.

  This man is driving me insane, absolutely insane.

  I keyed into our condo after work and stepped into darkness. I was about to turn on the lights when I noticed the flicker of candles on the dining room table. I was about to yell out Kent’s name, wondering if he was here, when I saw him cooking by the stove.

  “Hey,” he said, peering back at me. He continued to stir some concoction, its fragrance filtering through the kitchen.

  “What are you making?” I dropped my bag on the floor, walked toward him, and hugged his middle as he continued to stir. “What are we celebrating?” I kissed his shoulder.

  He angled his head in my direction and continued to sti
r as a dimple emerged on his cheek.

  His eyes moved back to the pot on the stove. “Can’t we have a nice candlelit dinner at home just because?”

  I angled my head to the side to get a better look at his face. He wouldn’t look at me, and I could tell he was being shy for some reason that I couldn’t place. My head flipped back to the dining room table where I noticed the light coming from two white tapered candles resting on top of silver holders. A table setting was positioned atop two gold placemats and the glimmer from the light reflected against two wine glasses.

  I kissed his shoulder again, and realization slowly set in. Although he couldn’t see, a small smile crept up my face.

  “So,” I used my pointer finger to run a line from his shoulder blade to the inside of his arm, “aren’t you the cute one?” I moved to his side and pulled at his belt, tugging him toward me. “I know what you’re up to.” My hand slipped under his shirt, feeling the firm muscles of his stomach. “You don’t have to make me dinner to get laid. All you have to do is ask.”

  He cast me a look and turned to the stove. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as a dimple emerged on his cheek.

  He averted his eyes, and my insides filled with excitement at him playing cute. As my hands moved to his waistband, he turned to face me.

  “Baby, dinner first,” he said, dropping the wooden spoon and reaching for my hand to kiss it.

  “I’m not hungry.” I turned off the stove, pushed him against the counter, and got up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Dessert first.”

  He smiled and lowered his head to meet my lips. His hands trailed from my shoulders to my arms before finally resting on my hips. I thought he was going to stop, but instead, he dug his fingers underneath my shirt and into my skin as he pulled me against him.

  The kisses started slowly at first until I tilted my chin. He opened me with his tongue and found passage. He lifted me by my bottom, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Excitement hit me as I felt him aroused, and I fisted his hair as he moved us from the kitchen to the living room and into his bedroom without breaking contact.