The Rich Boy

by Scott, Kylie

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “Of course I don’t want you to leave.” His fingers curl into fists. “It’s bullshit. She doesn’t have the bids or the necessary level of support to oust me. As for the rest, I’ll deal with it. You don’t need to worry about any of that.”

  “Okay. I’m tired…I just…I want to sleep,” I say, wavering as I get to my feet. He reaches out to steady me, but I hold my palm up in a stop signal. The alcohol didn’t help in the least. I’m not numb. My heart is a raw open wound. Messy as fuck. “The bitch of it is, I thought you got me, I thought we understood each other. I felt safe here and now that’s all shot to shit.”

  He rises, moving in slow motion like he’s hurt. “Tell me what to say. How do I fix this?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “What are you doing?”

  It’s around eight the next morning when Beck looks up at me. “Alice. Hey.”

  “You slept on the floor?” I ask, standing in the doorway to one of the fourth-floor guest bedrooms. Still wearing yesterday’s clothes. They’re crumpled, since I slept in them.

  The fourth level is set out much like the ones below. An open area in the middle with a sitting room and powder room. Bedrooms and bathrooms to the back of the building, and media and games rooms at the front. But Beck isn’t even lying on the nearby couch. Nope. He’s sprawled out on the floor with his suit jacket balled up and put to use as a cushion beneath his head. Princess naps on a nearby antique side table.

  After our talk, I’d needed some space. Guess he either didn’t get the message or figured a few yards would do.

  Still nothing from him.

  “Beck, you slept on the floor outside my door?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  He winces, sitting up. “Several reasons.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, firstly, if you’d needed something during the night then I could have gotten it for you.” He climbs to his feet, shoving a hand through his messy hair.

  “I didn’t even know you were here.” I frown. My system is running on insufficient coffee and Advil for this level of crazy.

  “But you would have found out if you’d opened the door. Like you just did. And also if you’d wanted to tell me off some more I’d have been right here within easy hearing.”

  I shake my head, stepping around him to head for the stairs. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No.”

  “I, ah, was pretty surprised when you weren’t in our bed last night.” He follows close behind, down the steps and into our room. “You didn’t have to go upstairs. I would have given you your space if you’d said that’s what you wanted.”

  A grunt from me. Hangovers make me surly. Same goes for being betrayed.

  “If you’d just said—”

  I make an about turn outside my closet. “I want space.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Inside, I grab some clean jeans, a long-sleeve tee, and boring cotton underwear. Today the glamor care factor is so low it wouldn’t even register. Today I officially do not give a fuck. And all the while, Beck stands out in the bedroom and watches. How this is giving me space, I don’t know. But I don’t have the energy to argue.

  “Alice, I’m sorry,” he says, his expression blank. “I promise I’ll never lie to you about anything ever again.”

  I sigh.

  “I called Emma, got the name of her favorite therapist.” He swallows. “Later I’ll get an appointment.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  I make for the bathroom on the other side of the room. Of course he follows. But I’m excellent at ignoring people when I choose to do so. Just watch me go. I dump my clothes on the bench and grab a pack of Advil out of the cupboard before downing the recommended dose. Next I brush my teeth, because gross. Gin, mornings, and heartbreak do not make for good breath.

  He leans a shoulder against the door jamb, watching me all the while. I don’t have the heart to shut the door in his face. Maybe I should, but I can’t. In the mirror, his forehead is furrowed. “Are you planning on leaving me…just out of curiosity?”

  “I’m still here.”

  He nods, thinking it over. “It occurred to me that perhaps I hadn’t groveled sufficiently given the situation and everything. I haven’t particularly had occasion to grovel before. If a girl was pissed at me over something then I tended to just ignore it or move on. But I have reason to believe that should I apply myself to groveling I would be quite excellent at it. If you’d give me a chance?”

  I finish rinsing and spitting.

  He clears his throat and says, “‘You are too generous to trifle with me.’”

  “Do not quote Austen at me!”

  “Sorry.”

  I get busy stripping out of my clothes. Almost strangling myself with my tee due to anger management issues. “I want honesty and apologies. Nothing else.”

  “Yes, Alice. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Hot water is the best fix for my current situation. Hot water and lots of it. I step into the shower and get busy, using my favorite facewash and a soap that smells of rosehips, washing and conditioning my hair. The end result is that I’m still angry, but I smell much better. Towel wrapped around me, I stand back in front of the mirror and drag a brush through my nest of hair.

  “Please, stop. You’re tearing it out,” says Beck, taking over the job. Being tired and cranky, I let him. He’s much gentler with my locks, carefully working out the knots with a look of concentration on his face. “Just between you and me, I was kind of terrified you’d leave and I’d never see you again. That’s why I was camped outside your door. I figured at the very least, you’d trip over me in the dark and I’d slow you down. Imagine my surprise when you didn’t even attempt to make a run for it.”

  “I don’t forgive you yet. But like I said, I’m still here.”

  Gaze on his task, he nods. The man works diligently until the brush pulls easily through my long hair. If he decides being a billionaire isn’t working out, he might just have a future as a lady’s maid. We don’t talk for a while. It’s enough to be near each other. And despite all of the shit he’s put me through, I still want to be near him. Love sucks. He hands me back the brush with a small sad smile. “There you go.”

  “Thank you,” I mutter.

  “Can I say just one more thing?”

  “What?” I ask. Without a word, he gets on his knees before me. I back my towel clad ass up against the bathroom bench, but there’s nowhere really for me to go. “What are you doing?”

  “You didn’t totally nix the idea of groveling so I thought I would try some. Very sincere and apologetic groveling at your feet.”

  “Beck…”

  Then the idiot grabs the sides of my knees, leaning his forehead against the slight round of my belly. He’s basically talking straight at my barely covered crotch. “Alice, I’m so fucking sorry I lied. You were right, I was following my father’s handbook. Doing things the Elliot way without even giving it a second thought despite all of my bullshit about wanting to be different.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “I acted like a dickhead and you deserve better.”

  “Yes, you did. And I do.”

  “Let me make it up to you.” He presses his face into one of my thighs, his hands sliding up the back of my legs. His warm breath brushes against my sex. “Please, Alice.”

  “You knew your grandmother was out to get me and you left a wide-open fucking hole in our defenses with your bullshit and lies.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re meant to be my person. The one who’s always on my side. And yet you were working against me this whole damn time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “God, would you stop this and get up?” I groan. The tickle of his breath against my crotch is confusing me. Turning me on when I’m trying to shut him
down. Of course, the problem is that after waiting for weeks we’d only just started sex and now we’ve crashed headfirst into this wall. My body cannot have what it wants. Not right now. “I feel like shit and I need coffee. Once I’m thinking straight, then I’ll decide how we’re going to handle this and what it will take for you to fix it.”

  “I can smell your sweet cunt.” He takes a deep breath. “Let me start making it up to you now.”

  I press my thighs together.

  “I can make you feel better.” He looks up at me, gaze so hot and full of promise. Just the sight of him on his knees before me makes me wetter. This is so confusing. My anger is righteous and all consuming. On the other hand, I’d kind of like to ride his face. Dammit. This cannot be happening. Being attracted and wanting him right now when we’re in crisis and need to be dealing with serious shit is ridiculous. What a weak-willed woman I am when it comes to him. Though the weeks of deprivation, minus one night, don’t help. His hands grip my ass cheeks, massaging the flesh. While his nose nudges my mound. “Let me do this much at least. Let me make you feel better.”

  “I am furious at you.”

  “Understood. I deserve it.” He nods his head eagerly. “But let me lick you. Then later, once you’ve come, you can kick me to the floor. Hell, I’m already halfway there. It’ll hardly take any effort on your part at all.”

  “Shut up.”

  His hands pry my legs open just a little. Just enough for him to tease around my clit with the tip of his tongue. Tingles shoot through me at the sensation. I’m not going to win this battle. I am going down. Or rather, he is on me.

  The stubble on his cheeks grazes my inner thighs and everything low in my belly tightens. My stance widens further, giving him better access. I grab hold of the bench behind me. He guides one of my legs up onto a nearby antique wooden chair. Because rich people have fancy chairs in their bathrooms for some damn reason. And he doesn’t hesitate, shoving his face into my pussy. Like the first time we had sex, his hunger apparently outweighs any desire for finesse or skill. He just wants what he wants and what he wants is me. Fingers spread open my sex and Beck eats me like a man starving.

  “Fuck,” I gasp.

  His tongue lashes me from my back entrance to my clit. Over and over he does it as if he can’t get enough of the taste of me. The muscles in my thighs quiver and pleasure shoots through me. Any alcohol in my blood is probably long gone. But this high is even better. Hot and heavenly. His lips suck at my labia, lavishing attention on every single inch of my cunt. No part of my sex is neglected.

  “I am s-so mad at you.”

  With one hand he tears the towel from my body, exposing my hard nipples to the cool air. Then he makes a humming noise and jams his tongue into my opening. In and out, mimicking the fucking he’d no doubt like to be doing. Given my shaky hungover condition, it’s a wonder I don’t take longer. Make him work harder. But the pressure inside of me mounts and mounts. It’s like sunlight and rainbows and the sweetest of daydreams. Only it’s coming at me like a cannon ball. Sensation tearing through me, racing down my spine. My mouth opens on a moan and every part of me tenses. I draw tighter and tighter, each molecule in me singing. Until the wave of bliss rushes through me. And still he doesn’t stop, but he does ease back a little, giving my sex gentle licks and soft kisses. Every so slowly my brain comes back to Earth. My panting echoes in the quiet room and a fine film of sweat covers my skin.

  Beck just looks up at me, the lower half of his face damp and glistening. I have magic come in this lighting, apparently. Nice to know. The way he looks at me is reverent. Hopeful, even. But when he speaks, his voice is subdued, “I know…you’re still pissed at me.”

  “Not even great head can fix everything.”

  “Great?” He raises his brows. “Well, thank you.”

  The need to touch him is second nature. I can’t help myself. I reach down, running a fingertip across his wet mouth, down to his damp chin.

  “Pussy juice,” he says, licking his lips. “Best facial moisturizer in the world.”

  I just shake my head. I honestly don’t know whether to smile or cry or what. Coming hasn’t helped anything. There’s still this ominous storm inside me. A break in my beating heart.

  Slowly, he rises to his feet, grabbing me another towel. He wraps it around me, tucking it in at the front, as if I were a child in need of care. Then he hands me my pile of clothes. “Why don’t you go get dressed, grab some breakfast,” he says. “I’ll be down soon.”

  And I want to say something, but I don’t know what.

  Holy hell, this sucks. We’re both hurting so badly. But if I forgive him too soon, too easily, will it happen again? Am I setting us up for failure? We’re talking a lifetime’s worth of bad habits and a crappy family culture he needs to take a long hard look at here. And yet we’re both so damn miserable. Not to forget, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. No wonder some people run away when things go wrong. This is hard.

  “We need to talk,” I say.

  “Okay. Go get some coffee. I won’t be long.”

  Guess this time, he needs some space. A chance to deal with what’s straining the front of his suit pants, perhaps. Under normal conditions, I’d offer to return the favor and make him come. However, these aren’t normal conditions. What is the sexual etiquette when your relationship is the thing that has been fucked?

  I nod. “See you downstairs.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “We’re starting over,” I say, cup of coffee nestled between my hands. “Again. And we need to get it right this time.”

  Beck sits opposite me. His hair is still wet from his shower and he’s dressed in jeans and a tee like when we first met. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m moving into the bedroom on the fourth floor for a while and I’d prefer it if you didn’t sleep outside the door again.”

  A barely perceptible flinch from him. I’m hurting him and that sucks to unreached depths, but this is where his lies have brought us. However, he doesn’t try to talk me down or anything and I’m so damn grateful for that. There’s hope for us yet. There has to be.

  “I think we should go back to the start and try dating again.” I take a sip of coffee. My hand is shaking, dammit. Now is not the time for weakness. “Things were so rushed between us. We haven’t even known each other a full month.”

  A nod.

  “That’s it. That’s all I’ve come up with so far.”

  Mrs. Francis made a pot of coffee and set out a plate of pastries before disappearing. I can’t even stomach the idea of food. The sun shines in dully through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Today the whole world seems cold and gray. His cell sits on the table buzzing, but he ignores the thing.

  “Okay,” he says, the words coming slowly. “I’ll stay off the fourth floor, but I’d like to have breakfast and dinner with you each day. Let’s consider them dates.”

  “That’s a lot of dates.”

  He shrugs. “How else are we going to get past this if we don’t spend time together?”

  “All right. Agreed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And you’re going to regularly start seeing a therapist?”

  Another nod. “I’d like us to do couples therapy eventually.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” I keep my body contained to my side of the table. Because as comforting as it would be to hold his hand, we need to establish some boundaries. Especially after the accidental oral. “I also think any use of the word ‘love’ should be delayed for now. I’m confused enough.”

  “You want total honesty from me?” he asks, gaze set on my face.

  “Yes, but…”

  “But what?”

  I swallow. “It’s just a lot right now.”

  “It is, however, the truth,” he says. “And that’s what’s important, right? I love you. That’s a fact. I don’t think maybe I’m in love with you or there’s a chance of strong emotions in me regarding you at some futu
re date. I love you and that isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Beck, we—”

  “I belong to you whether you want me or not.” His shoulders are set, his gaze sure. There’s no hedging or doubt in his voice. “That’s the truth, Alice.”

  I shake my head; it’s too much too soon. Or maybe I’m just scared. A bit of both, perhaps. “I need to feel like I can trust you with me again. And right now, I’m sorry, but I don’t. Let’s just…let’s talk about it later. What are you going to do about Catherine?”

  “I’ll deal with her. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “Since she dragged me into this, I’d like to know.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Full transparency.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” he says, gaze narrowing on me. “I made some calls last night. The first one was to my grandmother to strongly suggest she stay the fuck out of my life. She was surprised, to say the least. Guess she’d thought she’d run you off and I’d never hear about her threats and other assorted bullshit.”

  “Huh.”

  “Makes me wonder what else she’s gotten up to in the past that never made it back to me.” His fingers drum against the table. “Then I called Ethan to let him know Grandma might be attempting a hostile takeover.”

  “She’d try to take over the company?”

  “As I might have mentioned before, Catherine isn’t used to not getting her way. Her reaction to me calling her out was…intense. So there’s no telling exactly how far she might try and take this,” he says. “Some people will never be okay with hearing no.”

  I raised my brows and downed some more coffee. This mess just kept getting bigger and bigger. On the table, his cell buzzed. “Beck, should you check that?”

  “This is more important.”

  “You should be in at Elliot Corp. sorting this out right now, shouldn’t you?”

  “No, Alice. Talking to you, working us out, is more important.”

  “But she could kick you off the board.”

  He shrugs. “She can certainly try.”