Clients were eager to sign contracts with his name on them. Having him back me made bids easier to attain and everything run smoother. I knew it was too good to be true.
He just wanted to be able to hold it over my head. He wanted to own me. I narrow my eyes at the model in the center of the room. It’s all because of this one project. Now I’m in debt. I owe more than I’m worth and everything is hanging in the balance as we move forward with this one project that I’d love to trash just to spite my father. I should cancel it all now that I know the truth, but that would mean bankruptcy and more people than just myself being affected. Liam and all our employees and contractors. At the thought, there’s a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. One even a night of whiskey and great sex can’t dissolve.
I pull my eyes back to the computer screen, back to reviewing all the invoices that have been paid. Everything’s moving accordingly and on schedule, but only because of my father’s loan.
I run a hand over my face knowing I’m just as much of a fucking prick. I don’t deserve to breathe the same air as someone as sweet as Jules.
The thought of her shy smile and innocent looks ... God, it does something to me. The guilt and anger are minimal compared to the desire. I want to feel her again. I want to get lost in her touch and be the one to do the same for her.
I can make it all better.
She has no idea how screwed up this situation is. If my father knew who I’d spent last night with, I imagine I’d never hear the end of it. He may be a piece of shit and deserve to be locked away for the rest of his life, but if the world knew what I’d done, they would think the same of me.
I click the mouse to light up my screen as it goes dim once again. I can’t think; I can’t focus.
As my temples throb and irritation grows, I think back to last night. Back to Jules.
Out of every possible way for this morning to start, I never guessed she’d sneak out.
I imagined how the morning would go over and over again while I watched her sleep, her long hair a messy halo on the pillow. So peaceful and beautiful.
I couldn’t get over how fucked up it was. How selfish. But it was everything I wanted and more. It was fucking worth it.
As she slept, exhausted and spent from the raw fuck, my fingers longed to travel along her curves. I was still hard for more.
Staring at her lush lips, the vision of her eyes shut tight, her head thrown back, and her mouth parted with soft, strangled moans spilling between them was etched in my memory. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Jules was utterly in rapture from what I was doing to her. She was completely at my mercy and I know she loved every minute.
I tugged the blankets over myself and lay there watching her, debating how I’d end it in the morning. I could crave her more than anything, but it was over. It should never have started to begin with. As I thought up exactly what to say to ease the sting, I watched her steady breathing and my lungs filled with her sweet scent.
Just once more. I should have woken her up, spread her legs wide and taken her again. Had I known that I’d wake up alone, I would have.
I lean back in my seat, letting out the aggravation in a groan as I watch the security footage again. She slipped out just before dawn, leaving only a note behind. I watch in amusement as she keeps looking up from the pad of small sticky notes she’d found on my kitchen counter. The pen never even touched the paper for a full two minutes as she contemplated what to write.
She’s lost and confused. She doesn’t even know what she wants.
But I do.
I fidget with the yellow sticky note, passing it from my middle finger to my pointer and back again mindlessly.
Thank you.
If last night was more than just last night …
I trace the delicate, feminine script of the letters. She was made to tempt men. I’m convinced of it. Everything from her soft sighs to the way she carries herself.
It’s as if she was designed to lure me in unknowingly.
Even the way she’s written her phone number calls to me. Each graceful curve makes my fingers itch to punch in the numbers on my phone.
Weakness. Stupidity.
Last night was a one-time thing. I don’t have to call her. I don’t owe her anything and I’m sure she doesn’t expect a damn thing either.
Why does that bother me even more?
The sticky note moves from finger to finger more rapidly now. I know I shouldn’t call her. Nothing good can come from this.
My eyes look back to her message and focus on her phone number.
Selfish. So fucking selfish.
That’s the problem, though. I just don’t give a damn about anyone else. The thought is what strengthens my resolve. It’s all going to come crumbling down around me soon. I deserve to enjoy what little time I have left.
Julia
Water drips from the spout of the iron faucet. I grip the side of the claw-foot porcelain tub, the water splashing slightly in the silent room as I get comfortable. Then I rest my cheek against the cool hard porcelain and watch the water as it continues to drip.
The water’s nearly lukewarm by now, but I don’t want to get out. My wet hair clings to my skin as I sink in deeper, letting the water climb to my neck. My legs sway from side to side and I listen to the steady rhythm of the dripping water.
Part of me wants to pretend like last night didn’t happen. And this morning—I close my eyes and bring my hands up to my face, embarrassed by the memory. There’s nothing in etiquette class about how to leave your one-night stand.
My throat feels raw as I take in a breath, remembering how last night felt. His hands on my body, his chest against mine as he rocked in and out of me, mercilessly, ruthlessly.
I’ve never ... I swallow thickly, hating that I’m even comparing last night to what I had with my husband. I feel like I’ve betrayed Jace but I just let myself fall into the water, as if I can wash it all away.
No amount of time spent in this tub will cleanse the sins of last night.
One good thing’s come of it, though. The words are flowing through me so easily now. All I’ve done since I’ve been home is write. I shouldn’t be happy about that; I shouldn’t feel like a weight has been lifted, but I do. Every single thing I’ve written since my husband’s passing has been dark and stunted. It’s nothing that I would willingly choose to write. My poetry has always been a happy place and now I have a piece of that back.
The pain in my chest though, the way my heart feels tight and my lungs too crushed to breathe, that’s because I don’t regret it.
I feel guilty that I don’t feel guilty. How does that even make sense?
Ping. I groan at the sound, squeezing my eyes tight. I must’ve been more than a bit tipsy last night to let Sue act as my conscience. She won’t leave me alone. There were way too many texts waiting for me this morning for her to have gone home with anyone last night.
I woke up to a myriad of messages.
Please tell me he didn’t kill you.
I’m so sorry if he did, though!
Seriously, are you okay? Text me later!
She thinks she’s funny. I thought I was doing a good thing by letting her know I was still alive and unharmed, but all that did was open a floodgate of questions.
She’s finding more joy in this than I am, which makes me laugh.
I can’t help the way my lips beg me to smile and the way my heart flutters. Sue’s having a good time teasing me. Ping. I turn my head to the right, to where my towel and phone are sitting on the marble bench.
I can only imagine what she wants to know this time.
“I can’t hide in here forever,” I say under my breath, finally lifting myself out of the comfort of the tub. I lean down and pull the plug, letting the cool air hit my heated skin.
It was nice while it lasted and after last night, it did my body good to relax in here. As I lean over to grab the towel, the sensitive bits between my thighs ache again with slight
pain. It’s a good kind of hurt though, the kind that lets you know you’ve been properly laid. I laugh slightly into the towel and dry off my body, then work on patting my hair dry. My feet pad softly against the black-and-white penny tile floor.
The bathroom matches the estate’s classic interior. Every accent and piece of decor reflect the timing of when the house was built. There are a few modern pieces, but they only accentuate the charm of the classic architecture. It’s expensive to maintain, but the beauty is unmatched.
I continue towel-drying my long hair as the memories of renovating the house come to me one by one. The bit of happiness I’d claimed only moments ago vanishes.
Jace and I got into so many fights over this tile. I can see him standing in front of the mirror, glaring at me for being stubborn. It’s my family’s house, though. This isn’t an Anderson estate. I inherited it when my parents moved from the city. We both knew I was far more well-off than he ever was. The steamy glass doesn’t hide the past. I can hear his voice; I can see it all like it was just yesterday.
But the memories are from years ago, and he’s never coming back.
Ping. This time when the phone goes off, I can’t help but want to cling to whatever Sue’s said. She could ask how big he is and I’d give her every detail including the veins. I’d be eternally grateful for a distraction right now. I take a seat on the bench, wincing as my sore bottom rests against the hard marble and pick up the damn phone.
It’s not her.
Well, this last message isn’t.
I have three from Sue, all wanting to know details about what I did with Mason last night. I roll my eyes and let out a small snort at her question about size. Of course she would ask me. I knew it.
By the looks of him, he should be packing ... but I’m going to guess he’s only four inches. Am I right?
She cracks me up. She’s been sending me these kinds of messages all day. Anything to get me talking.
Nope, only three, I type back just to give her something to laugh about. She deserves it. Without all these messages and prodding, I’m not sure how I would have handled this on my own.
I click over to the other message and my heart does an odd flip in my chest when I see who it’s from. Like it can’t function for just a moment. Maybe it’s the shock and disbelief, or maybe it’s fear? I’m not sure, but either way, I’m struck by the fact that Mason messaged me at all. I was sure that sneaking out would have sealed the deal between the two of us. It was a one-time thing. One I’m grateful for and content with. I knew what I was getting when I went into the arrangement.
I wasn’t sure if I should leave my phone number. I imagine he was relieved to find his drunken one-night stand gone and I didn’t want him to feel obligated to call me.
At the same time, I hoped he would.
Not because of him. It’s not that I’m clinging to having a relationship at all. I just … I liked the way he made me … I don’t know what the right word is. The way nothing else mattered when I was with him. How it all slipped away and I didn’t have to focus on anything but him. Mostly because he was only focused on me.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting more of that, is there? I bite down on my bottom lip and read the message.
It’s not not a hello or an admonishment for leaving him.
I want to see you again. Blue Hill at 8 p.m. tonight.
My lashes flutter a few times as I reread the message. How very presumptuous. As if I have nothing better to do than meet up with him.
I don’t, if I’m being honest with myself. I haven’t got a single thing to do other than write, which I fell into earlier and loved every second. I lose a little bit of the fight in me at the thought that I am available tonight, but still. This isn’t happening like this. I’m not a booty call or whatever he’s used to.
I look down at the message again and the second readthrough only pisses me off.
Maybe I want a good lay too, and by maybe, I mean I really do need it, but I’m not a call girl and I don’t want to be treated like one. Last night was something out of my realm.
Sorry. Busy. I type in the words and hit send without even thinking, letting my high and mighty attitude lead me. But as soon as the message pops up on the screen, I wish I could take it back.
My eyes close and my head falls back as I groan in aggravation. I should have just said yes. I mean after all, aren’t I using him too? I’m so busy staring at the ceiling and cursing myself that when my phone pings in my hand, I jump slightly.
Are you busy now?
A second passes and then another. Is he toying with me? I think he is. I can just imagine the teasing way he would say it. Like he knows exactly why I responded I did. I smirk and bite the inside of my cheek as I text back.
Maybe I am.
His response is immediate. No you aren’t and I want to see you. Blue Hill at 8 p.m.
My shoulders stiffen and I can’t help but feel like this is some kind of battle of wills. And I have no intention of losing.
I said I was busy.
I wait for his response, a deep crease settling in between my brows.
There’s no immediate message back and I start to question my position. I don’t want to be alone tonight. I know it’s pathetic but I’m so tired of being lonely, lying in bed at night, staring at the other half of the bed where my husband used to sleep.
Maybe I need to take a step back and think this through. Dating isn’t exactly an expertise of mine. Neither is hooking up. With a heavy heart I reread the messages and try not to overthink it all, but I’m sure that’s exactly what I’m doing.
I contemplate messaging the girls in our group text when minutes go by and I don’t hear from Mason. A lot of pride lives in me, but not when it comes to this. I’m out of my element.
Tossing my phone down, I decide it’s probably for the best that I don’t see Mason tonight anyway. I’ve never been alone before and I’m too tempted to cling to him already and overanalyze it all. Pushing my hair back, I wonder if I should try to convince Sue to go out tonight. I’m sure she would if only I asked. Any of the girls would and I love them for it.
The phone pings against the porcelain and I’m quick to read what he’s said.
You win. Just tell me when. I’m available for you.
The smile on my face isn’t stopped by my teeth sinking into my lip and I sway slightly as I compose my response. The warmth that spreads through me is addictive. It makes me a little too happy, but I’m too caught in the moment to overthink anything else right now.
Mason
“So, who is she?” Liam asks from his office as I’m on my way out. He leans out the doorway, both hands on the doorframe as he smirks at me.
“Who?” I say, turning my back to him so I can lock up my office. It’s a habit I’ve always had. No one else has a key. I’ve got fifteen employees working here who come and go throughout the day, but my office is only for me.
“The chick you hooked up with last night.” I test the doorknob, making sure it’s locked and drop my keys into my pocket. I won’t be long since I’m only heading out for lunch, which is good because I want to have all these numbers crunched by the time I need to leave for Blue Hill.
When I turn back around, Liam’s got his arms crossed and he’s leaning against the door, waiting for me like I owe him some sort of explanation.
“None of your damn business,” I say, keeping my tone casual and smirk at him.
“Oh shit,” he says then lets out a bark of a laugh with a wide grin. “You really did hook up with someone last night?” he asks me with disbelief. Liam’s always been a talker. He doesn’t seem to mind my demeanor as much as everyone else does. Give him enough time and he can have an entire conversation by himself, so maybe the two of us were meant to be friends.
Pushing off the doorframe he says, “I was going to give you shit for leaving me hanging last night.”
“Just didn’t want to be alone last night,” I tell him honestly. “Better her
company than yours,” I joke with a grin, trying to lighten the mood even though I want this conversation to be over.
“So, are we going to go over it tonight then?” he asks me.
“Go over what?”
“What our investor said at the meeting you had without me yesterday.” By investor, he means my father.
“It wasn’t about Gray’s Homes.” I take a few steps closer to his office. Mine’s the largest and in the very back. Liam’s is kitty-corner to mine and the only other office in here. Across from his is the boardroom which is currently empty and only ever used for sales pitches and the end of quarter wrap-ups.
“Oh,” Liam says and he seems genuinely taken by surprise. His expression lets me know he wants to ask me a million fucking questions, all of which I’m sure I don’t want to hear. Why was my father so persistent on meeting me? Why did he come in here asking for a conference over and over and demanding I sit down with him?
“It’s been a bit rocky between us for the last few months,” I say with my voice low enough that it’s just the two of us in this conversation. I know Margaret, our secretary, is right down the hall and close enough to hear if we talk loud enough.
“Few months?”
I stare at him, feeling my expression hardening. It was a necessary evil for me to stop talking to my father a while ago. I’m caught between wanting to do what’s right and not knowing for sure that I’d be doing the right thing. So instead of taking action, I avoided him every chance I got.
It worked my entire life up until now. Until he told me what I already knew, confirming it and forcing me to face the truth.
“Don’t worry about it.” I give him a tight smile. “It’s got nothing to do with the business.”
“And what about you?” he says, pushing further. “I can’t be worried about you?”
You Are My Reason (You Are Mine Book 1) Page 6
