by Jackie Wang
“I made breakfast,” I said, balancing her plate in my left arm. “Are you decent?”
“Mmhm.”
I turned the knob and entered.
It was like looking at the face of an angel. Sierra was sitting up in bed, propped up by two pillows. Her dark blond hair lay in a curly mess around her. Her cheeks were rosy, and she was rubbing her eyes. Even without makeup she looked flawless.
She'd slept in her PJs. I'd been secretly hoping she slept nude so I could catch a glimpse of her delicious skin. Can't blame a man for dreaming.
I made my way to the side of the bed and placed breakfast in her lap. “I didn't know what you liked so I just whipped up what I had in the fridge.”
She looked at the plate, then at me, then back at the plate.
Was she blushing?
“Thanks, Asher. But...Why are you being so nice to me?”
I sat down beside her, brushing a few stray locks from her face. “It's the least I could do. You know, since you agreed to come with me to this benefit.” I paused and then added, “And I like you, Sierra Maywood. There's something special about you, I can feel it. I just wish you’d give me a chance.”
Sierra arched her brows. She picked up her fork and tried a bite of the blueberry pancake. After chewing and swallowing, she said, “This is delicious. But as for everything else, I'm sorry, Asher. but I don't believe you. It reeks of bullshit. You don't even know the first thing about me.”
I swallowed my indignation and tried again, “If you give me a chance, I'll learn everything about you. Everything that makes you tick.”
“Why, so you can seduce me? Have sex with me?”
What had gotten into her? She seemed defensive this morning, as if she was itching for a fight.
“No, I don't want to just sleep with you. Though I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind. I want to get to know you, Sierra.”
“Prove it then. Don't have sex with me until you're ready for more than just sex.”
“I'm already ready for more than just sex with you,” I said, exasperated.
“That's not the vibe I got last night,” she said. “Last night you wanted some no strings attached 'fun'.”
So that was why she was so pissed. I frowned. “I was tired. Horny,” I admitted. “But I can be good. So good. You just have to let me into your world.”
“Show me how good you can be,” Sierra said, testing me. She sat up higher in bed, and as she did so, I caught a glimpse of her rosy nipple poking through her white tank top.
God almighty.
“You're something else, you know that?” I smiled. “I'll prove myself yet, don't worry.” I got up, but before I left, I reminded her, “The benefit's in three hours. Please get dressed after breakfast.”
Sierra stuck her tongue out at me. Then she went back to scarfing down her pancakes.
After doing the dishes and tidying up my dockets, I needed to go back into the bedroom to change.
I knocked on the door, in case she needed privacy.
“I'm in the bathroom,” Sierra called out.
“Can I get changed?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I pushed inside and went to my closet. It was just a fundraiser at the club. I'd already decided to wear a white, fitted polo and light gray slacks. Something casual, but not too much so. But first, I needed a shower.
“I need to shower, Sierra.”
“Me too,” she called out. “I was just about to get naked.”
God, did she even think before she spoke? I looked down and realized my cock was already swelling at the thought of her showering behind that door.
“Can I join you?”
Can't blame a man for asking.
“Of course not!” she laughed. Her voice was like sweet music. “Perv!”
So I had to sit there, on the edge of the bed, sporting a tent in my pants for what felt like fifteen years before the sound of the shower finally stopped.
“Can you get me some clean clothes and a towel? I forgot to bring some in here,” Sierra asked.
“Aren't you afraid I'll sniff your panties or something? Since I'm such a perv?”
“Prove to me you're a gentleman. Grab me some clean panties, a bra, and an outfit for lunch,” Sierra said, her voice muffled through the door. “Without doing anything pervy.”
“When have I ever listened to you?” I said before leaving to find her clothes.
The basement was dark, so I had to stumble around a bit before I found the light switch. I zeroed in on her bedroom and found all her clothes laid out in folded piles on the floor.
Hmm, what did I want her to wear?
First things first. Panties and a bra.
I located the pile of undergarments and studied them. A few lacy numbers caught my eye. A couple plain thongs and briefs.
This girl needed someone to take her lingerie shopping.
Someone like me.
I picked out a padded black bra and matching panties. I'd promised I wouldn't do anything pervy, but that didn't mean I couldn't sneak a peek at her bra size. I glanced at the slim tag. 36C.
Hot damn, mama.
My breathing quickened at the remembrance of how her pillowy breasts felt in my palm last night. A nice, generous handful.
Fuck me.
I didn't want to take too long, or she'd think I was up to no good, so I picked out a little black dress to match everything else. Finally, I snatched a towel and headed upstairs.
“Where do you want me to leave these?” I asked.
“Just put them on the bed and close the door.”
“Yes, ma'am,” I said playfully before dropping her things on the bed and leaving.
A few minutes later, Sierra emerged from my bedroom looking good enough to eat in the little black dress I’d picked out. Knowing what lay underneath that dress made it all the more exciting. She was unbelievably sexy because she didn't even realize how beautiful she was.
“You ready to go?” she asked.
“I still need a shower, remember?” I said, nudging past her and stripping off my t-shirt in the process.
I could almost hear her breath catch behind me.
She was probably ogling my ropey back muscles and studying the tribal tattoo that snaked around my right shoulder blade.
Let her stare.
By the time I was done with her, she'd be begging for me to be inside her.
I moved with deliberate slowness, perking up my ears to catch the sounds of her shallow breathing.
Then silence.
“I'll wait umm...downstairs. P-put on some makeup,” Sierra finally said before disappearing.
I stripped down and stepped into the shower. It wasn't until I turned on the water that I realized two things: a) my cock was unbelievably hard for her and b) she’d used up all the goddamn hot water.
Oh well, maybe a cold shower would soothe my painfully hard knob.
When I was done, I patted myself dry and studied the scruff along my jaw. Should I keep it or go for a more clean-shaven look?
I decided to keep it. I figured the rugged look was more likely to get Sierra's panties wet.
“I'm ready now,” I called out from the top of the stairs. “Meet you outside?”
“Okay.”
Sierra and I met up by the curb. She'd put on a pair of five-inch stilettos, making her almost at my eye-level. She wasn't short by any means; I was just tall. At 6'4”, I overshadowed most of my buddies and colleagues at work.
I noticed she'd also put on some blush, lipstick, and eyeliner. It was very light makeup and accentuated her best features. Especially those full, bee-stung lips of hers.
I unlocked my Jag and opened the passenger-side door for her. She slid in effortlessly.
“Nice dress,” I said, starting the car. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look yet?”
“Eyes on the road, hotshot,” Sierra said. Her knuckles were white she was clutching her purse so hard. I rested my right hand on top of hers.
Her skin felt ice-cold.
“What's the matter? Got the jitters?”
“Jitters, really?”
“Butterflies?”
“Kinda. What if they think I'm some sort of imposter? I don't mix in the same circles.”
“You look so stunning they'll be too busy ogling your rack,” I said, trying to reassure her. I snuck a glance at her perky tits and silently groaned. The deep v-neck of her dress showcased them perfectly.
Sierra scowled. “Are you saying I'm just your arm candy? Some vapid airhead? You don't think I could hold up a conversation with your Harvard buddies?”
I floored the gas, and she lurched back in her seat.
“They're not my buddies. I already told you that. They're mostly my dad's pals. And contrary to what you may think, I find you intelligent as well as attractive.”
Sierra didn't have anything to say to that.
We drove in silence for a while.
“So what exactly do you do for a living, Sierra?”
“I'm a part-time seamstress at Delfino's and a full-time student at LaSalle College for most of the year,” she replied. “I want to be a couture fashion designer after I graduate.”
“You must have a good eye for art then,” I said.
“I guess,” she said. “My parents think it's dumb, though.”
“Who cares? As long as you follow your passion, success and money will come.”
“You think so?”
“Definitely. You should show me some of your designs sometime.”
So she was beautiful and ambitious.
“Maybe,” Sierra murmured. After a while, she asked, “What if your dad hates me?” I glimpsed at her and noticed she was gripping the edge of the seat.
I eased off the gas and slid to a stop at a red light. “Why do you care what my dad thinks?”
“I don't,” Sierra said. But I could tell she was lying. I squeezed her hand and said, “I'm sure he'll love you. You'll charm him the way you charm me.”
She unclenched her jaw and nodded.
We pulled up at the club fifteen minutes early. Sierra had relaxed somewhat, and she was busy reapplying her lip gloss and combing her hair. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was preening so she could make a good impression in front of my dad.
I parked the car and opened the door for her. Once she stepped out, I gave her a kiss on the forehead before snaking my hand around her waist. I tried to maneuver it lower, but she swatted it away.
“Behave,” she warned.
Fuck, her lips were so goddamn plump and kissable. I wanted to push her up against the wall and kiss the living daylights out of her. Now.
“Morgan. Asher Morgan plus one,” I said at check-in. I handed a uniformed woman my jacket, and she hung it up.
“This way please, Mr. Morgan,” the uniformed woman said.
We followed her into a dining hall that'd been cleared at the center to form a makeshift dance floor. Gleaming plates and polished silverware lined pressed tablecloths. Heavy curtains had been pulled back to let in natural light. The space was just as pompous-looking as I remembered.
“What is this benefit even for?” Sierra hissed. I could see faint red dots already prickling on her arms. She tried to hide them behind her back. I had no idea she'd be so nervous over something so trivial. I guess it wasn't that trivial for her.
“It's for leukemia research,” I said. “Don't be nervous. You're too gorgeous to worry about what these stuck-ups think about you.”
“They're staring at me,” she whispered, eyes darting around the room.
We were unusually early, and there was hardly anyone here yet. “Only because you're such a knock-out. How about a drink?”
I hailed down one of the circulating servers and relieved him of two champagne flutes.
Sierra took a sip and moaned. “This champagne tastes expensive,” she said.
“All the more reason to get drunk in the middle of the day,” I teased.
We mingled for a while, and I introduced Sierra to some of my colleagues and my dad's golfing buddies. As predicted, no one really asked too much about her background, only exchanged pleasantries and moved on.
Sierra was loosening up after her third glass of bubbly when my father showed up.
“Look sharp,” I said, pinching Sierra's arm. “Here comes my old man.”
Her cheeks were ruddy and her reaction time, delayed. “Old who?”
“My dad,” I said.
I hailed down my father and beamed. “About time you showed up.”
“I invited you two, didn't I?” Dad said. Turning to Sierra, he said, “You must be Asher's new...friend—er—landlady.”
“I am. I'm Sierra.” Sierra held out her hand, and Dad shook it.
“Come, Sierra. Asher. Let's grab a table and get to know one another.”
Dad brought us to a round table and sat down. We followed suit.
“So, Sierra, what do you do for a living?” Dad asked.
Of course, he'd start with that. I knew my father. His first instinct would be to test her—see if she was a gold digger. She wasn't. But even if she was, it wouldn't matter anyway because we weren't dating.
“I'm a student,” Sierra replied, taking another sip. “And I work as a p-part-time seamstress down at Delfino's on Burton.” Her speech was a bit slurred.
I wanted to somehow convey to my date that perhaps she should slow down with the alcohol. Especially since it'd been a few hours since she ate breakfast. And she was already on her fourth glass.
“What are you studying?” Dad probed.
“Fashion Design,” Sierra answered. “I want to be a couture designer after I graduate.”
“A girl with ambition. Good,” Dad said.
That's what I thought too, Dad.
I jumped in. “Dad, quit interrogating the poor girl. You're making her nervous. She's just a friend.”
“That doesn't look so friendly,” Dad said, nodding at my hand, which was looped protectively around Sierra's shoulder.
Embarrassed, I let go, and Sierra put some distance between us. She spoke up. “Don't worry, I have no intention of stealing his heart or his focus from his work.”
It was as if she'd read Dad's mind.
Dad nodded. “What is your intention then?”
Sierra suppressed a little burp. God, she was tipsy. “A true lady doesn't kiss and tell.”
Dad seemed a bit taken aback by this. But amused as well. “What exactly is going on between you two?”
“Nothing,” I quipped. “I told you, we're friends.”
“Bullshit.”
Sierra's hands found mine. Her cold fingers sent goosebumps through me. “What...Do you think I'm not good enough to date your son or something?”
“Sierra,” I warned.
“No, let her continue,” Dad said, sitting up straighter.
“So what if we're dating?” Sierra continued. “Maybe we're even in love! It's a free country isn't it?”
“That would be fine...” Dad said, “if Asher hadn't just been engaged three months ago.”
“What?!” Sierra snapped, eyes bulging. She looked like Dad had just dumped ice water on her head.
“Didn't he tell you?” Dad continued.
“Dad, that's enough.” I raked a hand through my hair. I didn't think Dad would drop a bomb on me like this. I wanted to tell her later, on my own time. Shit. This was all blowing up in my fucking face.
“So it's true then? What the hell, Asher!” Sierra pushed me aside.
She started to get up. Then back up. She tottered in her heels and sent a tray of drinks flying. Glasses toppled and shattered all around her.
It was a bloody disaster.
I hurried to help her up. Her left palm was already bleeding, but she refused my help. “Don't touch me,” she snarled.
“Sierra, I can explain—”
“Don't,” Sierra continued, pushing herself up. “God, I'm such an idiot. I'll see myself out.” With that, sh
e made a run for the exit. Or rather, a wobbly getaway. I wanted to chase after her, but my father held me back. “She had to know.”
“I was going to tell her. But thanks for making me look like an asshole.”
The hurt in her eyes nearly broke me. Why didn't she give me a chance to explain?
By the time I’d shaken free of my dad, Sierra was gone.
CHAPTER 7
SIERRA
HOW COULD I HAVE been so stupid? Engaged? He told me he didn't even have a girlfriend...and now his dad tells me he’d been engaged? As in, about to get married?
Once again, I'd played with fire. And got burnt. I knew Asher Morgan would be no good from the minute I’d laid eyes on him. Everything about him screamed off-limits. I was just too weak to keep myself out of harm's way. Now my left hand was bleeding freely, and I was out in the middle of nowhere.
Was that a golf course?
I tottered out to the curb and wondered if the bus ran here. After a quick Google search, I realized it didn't. I finally decided to catch a cab (which I really didn't want to do) to the nearest train station and commute home from there.
Damn Asher and his lies! I should've never agreed to go to this stupid benefit with him. What was I thinking? That I could just waltz in, fit in, and dazzle Asher's father with my wit and charm?
My phone buzzed for five minutes straight before I turned it off. I didn't want to read his texts or answer his calls. Nothing he could possibly say would make me feel better.
I felt unexplainable rage. And jealousy.
Who was this woman who had captured his heart? And why did it end? Who broke it off? Was Asher just using me as a rebound? Of course. I'd just been so caught up in his Bambi eyes to notice. Men never wanted to be with me for the sake of being with me. There was always some ulterior motive in the mix. I was just too naive to see through his ploy.
I got home at around 5p.m. thanks to road construction and missing the bus. Twice.
With a sinking feeling, I realized that Asher was probably already there, waiting for me.
I snuck around to the back door and unlocked it as silently as possible.
But somehow, he still heard me.
His persistent knock on the glass door at the top of the stairs rattled me.
“I know you're in there, Sierra. Please, can we talk about what happened?”
