by Tess Oliver
She took her plate to the sink. I leaned against the counter drinking my coffee. She had to lean past me, nearly brushing against me as she lowered the dish into the sink. Somehow, my crazy ass thoughts had gone straight to the possibility that she left every other day to see a man, maybe her ex, the jerk who had left a bruise on her side. Maybe he'd sweet talked her back into his life, or maybe she had someone else. It wouldn't be a wild thought. Shay was the kind of woman men went nuts for.
Shay slipped past me, and I imagined myself taking hold of her wrist and pulling her back and into my arms. I'd strip her naked right there in the fucking kitchen and devour her with my mouth to taste every inch of her before driving my cock into her until she cried out in ecstasy.
"You all right, Archer?" Her light tone shook me from my thoughts again. "You're kind of fading in and out this morning."
I straightened and tossed the coffee into the sink. "I'm fine." I could hear the cold bark of jealousy in my tone, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. "We need to take this to the next level. I'm not pushing myself hard enough, and we're running out of time. I've been treating this like a damn vacation, a party, and that's over. When I get back, I want you naked and on my bed."
"If you say so," she said with the same amount of chill I'd just thrown at her. Which was fucking perfect. Now I was sending her into this secret lover's arms thinking about just how much she hated me.
21
A Mercedes with darkly tinted windows was leaving my dad's driveway as I turned the corner to his street. I lifted my sunglass to get a look at the driver, but the sun reflected off the window tint making it impossible to see inside. Dad was paying his oncologist to make house visits, but I had only seen Dr. Hersh in a blue Land Rover. Of course, it was entirely possible a Bel Air oncologist would have more than one car. I headed up the driveway.
I'd left the house before Shay. She had stayed in her room, most likely on purpose, just to avoid me. I'd let my mind conjure every fucking scenario of where she might be going to on her regular outings. She'd told me more than once that she didn't keep many close friends because she moved around a lot and because she'd had a few friendships that were slightly toxic, making them the kind of friends you were better off without. Still, I'd allowed myself the idea that she was just meeting a friend for lunch or coffee. But that possibility was weighted down in my mind, buried beneath the many other scenarios that made me want to punch someone. Jealousy was not a good trait for me. Since this was my first bout with it, I was slowly learning how to deal with it. A trip to my dad's was always a nice, icy splash of water to shock away any other thoughts.
Dad's full-time nurse, Mr. Pruitt, was sitting in the living room drinking a soda and reading a book.
"Hello, Mr. Archer, I didn't hear you pull up." He pushed the book aside to stand up, but I put up my hand to stop him. He sat back. "He'll be a little groggy. I just gave him his morphine shot. I'm afraid he's been in a lot of pain. But he's been eating better these last few days."
"That's good to hear. Who was that I saw leaving the house? A new doctor?"
Pruitt was a big man with thick shoulders and very large hands, considering he provided personal care for people. He shifted on the couch to talk to me better. "No, the doctor was here yesterday. Didn't do much except leave a new prescription. Your father was in an exceptionally foul mood, so the doctor made it quick. But the car you saw leaving was Miss Odenkirk. She comes once a week and sits with your dad for an hour. Then she smiles and says good-bye and sails off in her Mercedes. I think she's helping your dad with final arrangements."
"Final arrangements? Oh right, those final arrangements. I thought he'd already taken care of those. He told me just a short graveside funeral. Maybe he changed his mind. I better head up before he dozes off."
As I climbed the stairs, it dawned on me that I'd never see him standing at the top again, glowering down at me, sharply barking my name to scold me about something. I turned down the hallway to his room and knocked lightly before going in.
Dad's face was small and so pale it was nearly lost in the white pillow. He didn't hear me come in. His eyes were closed, and there was hardly any movement in his face. I froze for a second, watching and waiting for him to take a breath. The sudden tension in my body eased as his chest lifted and fell.
His nightstand was cluttered with medicine bottles, pungent ointments and laxatives. Growing up, I couldn't remember him having so much as a cold or flu. I always figured he was so tough the germs just didn't want to bother with him. But sickness had caught him now, proving my theory about his toughness wrong. Although I had to give him credit. He'd been pretty fucking tough through his whole battle with cancer.
I pulled up a chair. The noise woke him. He stared up at the ceiling for a second as if he was trying to remember who and where he was. Without lifting his head from the pillow, he turned his face toward me.
"It's you, son. I wasn't sure if Pruitt was back to poke and prod me again." He struggled to sit up.
I hopped up and helped move his pillow behind his back as he settled himself against the massive mahogany headboard. He cleared his throat. As he reached for his glass of water, I saw how shaky his hands were. I'd never seen his hands shake. It took me a second to pull my eyes from his trembling fingers. He was a weak, withering shell of the man I knew.
"Pruitt said the doctor came yesterday. What did he say?"
"He said I'm going to die." He sipped some water. I grabbed the glass to return it to the nightstand. "I told him not to write out the death certificate yet because I'm not done being a miserable wretch ."
I smiled. It was rare for him to say something self-deprecating and humorous. I could only assume it was the morphine. It seemed to act somewhat like a truth serum, like the day he'd mentioned the constant sparkle in his mother's eyes.
"How is the business going?" He switched right over to the only topic that truly interested him. What I would have loved to talk to him about was our life together, the few somewhat normal memories I had with him. Like the night we both decided to sit outside and wait for the comet shower the news had promised. We hadn't seen much in the way of star showers, but I could still remember being thrilled as hell that he had suggested it. Those moments were rare, but they stood out like diamonds in a field of coal.
"I'm getting started, but it's going to take time to—"
"Get your reputation back," he interjected.
"That too."
"Tell me what's new with it? Any possible clients? Don't forget, I've added a stipulation to your trust that it has to be up and running with a seven figure a year profit before you can touch your money."
"Yes and I told you I'm not going to let you hold it over my head anymore. I'm leading my own life from this point forward." Already my tone had turned to anger. I sat back on the chair. "S—Dad." I was officially done calling him sir. "Let's not talk business or money. It always ends up in a fight."
"Fine. But I should tell you, I'm leaving this house to charity, cancer research. Not that it'll do me any good now," he said with a terse laugh. "I know this place doesn't hold any sentimental value for you. I figured you wouldn't mind."
"As I recall, you said sentimentality was for soft, silly people who had nothing better going for them."
"Did I say that? I always did have a way with words." He grinned weakly. It was what I used to secretly call his villain's grin. It was really the only smile he had. "So you're all right with me giving the house to charity?"
"Yes, I don't mind."
His eyes had sunken deeper into his face, making him look as if he was a century old. "That didn't sound too convincing. I could have the lawyer—"
"No, Dad, I think it's a good idea. I'm just a little surprised to hear you are giving to charity. You were never much of a philanthropist."
"Bullshit." He shifted back in an attempt to look taller and more broad shouldered in his bed, but so much of his muscle mass had withered away, it was impossible. "I gave to
charities all the time. I just never boasted about it like most people. Enough of that." He smoothed the blanket on his lap with his shaky hands. "What else is new?"
How badly I wanted to break into a long, happy narrative about the incredible woman who was living in my house and who, without being anything but herself, was teaching me how to be more human. Something I never learned at home.
"Nothing much," I said, knowing full well he wouldn't be the least bit interested in hearing about Shay. "Pruitt said there's a woman named Miss Odenkirk who comes here once a week—"
"What the fuck is he talking about?"
"I saw someone leaving the house in a Mercedes with tinted windows, so I asked him who it was."
The subject had made him fidget and readjust himself against his pillow. "My head feels heavy from the damn drugs." He made it glaringly obvious that he didn't want to discuss the woman in the Mercedes. I helped him move his pillows down. He rested back against them and pulled the blanket up higher. He looked like a helpless, sick little boy in his vast antique bed.
His eyes drifted shut.
I lifted my hand and hesitated before pressing it against his head. I could count on one hand the number of times we had touched each other with something remotely like affection. His skin was clammy, but he didn't pull away from my touch.
"Sorry I've been a disappointment, Dad," I said quietly.
"You've never been a disappointment, Nash," he muttered as I walked away.
I stopped at the door and looked back at him. Every time I walked away from him, I wondered if it would be the last time we spoke.
I headed back down the wide staircase with the green carpet runner and the creepy eyed portraits. So many times I wished that our house had been like a normal house with cheery, lumpy furniture that had been lived in and enjoyed. So many times I wished that I would be walking down those stairs to a big fatherly smile and a box of ridiculously sugary cereal like my schoolmates did in the morning. But now, as I walked through the cavernous rooms to the entry and the front door, it occurred to me that I was going to miss the place when the old man was gone. It was even entirely possible that I was going to miss the man himself.
22
The weight of what an asshole I'd been in the morning felt extra heavy on my chest as I pulled up to the house and saw Shay's sad little car parked out front. I'd worked myself into a fucking jealous lather without even knowing for certain that she was off meeting another man.
I walked inside. Music was playing, but Shay wasn't around. I headed down to her bedroom but heard a noise coming from my room. I pushed open the door and stopped to catch my breath.
"This is what you wanted, right?"
Shay was curled on her side, stripped naked and looking like an edible confection. Her skin had to taste like cream. I swallowed thinking how sweet her pussy would taste with my mouth buried against her. My dirty thoughts went into overdrive. I had never wanted anyone so badly.
There was the slightest pout in her full bottom lip that let me know she was still angry with the way I spoke to her earlier.
She rolled back onto my quilt. The sight of her stretched out and naked on my bed made my heart pound against my ribs.
"Shay, I was an asshole this morning."
"Uh huh." She smoothed her hands over her breasts causing her nipples to pucker. Then she let her thighs drop open. She trailed her hands over her belly stopping against her pussy. "But you're right. We're running out of time." She was working on sounding seductive, but there was a touch of hurt in her tone.
She turned over and pushed up to her knees and came closer to the edge of the bed before lifting her breasts with her hands. Not that she needed to do anything to arouse me. She could have been sitting in the center of my bed in rain gear, and I would have been turned on.
Speaking was almost impossible with all the energy rushing from my head to my cock. I took a few steps, bringing myself close enough to see the tiny freckle near her belly button, a freckle I'd already become far too familiar with.
"You have your goal—to drop the playboy act and regain your focus and your place in the world of high finance." Shay lathed her thumb over her nipple. I watched that thumb as if my life depended on it. "And I have my goal," she continued with a soft, husky tone. "A million dollars would keep me from ever having to work in a sketchy strip club again."
I lifted my gaze to her face. Her head tilted slightly and her expression softened. "I'm here for your entertainment, Nash. What would you like me to do?" We were back in full competition, and she had the upper hand in every possible way. I needed to change that. I needed to render my opponent utterly defenseless by making her dizzy with wanting me as badly as I wanted her.
I stepped up to the side of my bed, close enough that my legs were pressed against the edge of the mattress. I motioned her closer with my finger. She moved across my bed on her knees and stopped as near to me as she could without coming in physical contact. But I could hear every breath she took, and if I concentrated I could count the freckles on her nose. But concentration wasn't easy with every muscle in my body tense from holding back. Even my fists were curled to keep from reaching out to touch her. That was all it would take, a light brush of my fingertips over her skin and I'd be out a million bucks.
"This is just what I needed," I said with a forced casual tone. "I've been too easy on myself. But like you said, you're not here to break any bad habits, so—" I walked across the floor and closed the blinds so shadows filled the room. I flipped on some quiet music and walked to my closet and pulled out the box from the top shelf.
"Something tells me that box is not filled with winter sweaters." Shay dropped back to her side on the bed.
"Not quite." I pulled out a bright purple vibrator, still in the package. I held up the sex toy. "Sometimes my guests leave with a party favor." I walked over to the nightstand and pulled out a tube of lube and tossed it and the vibrator next to her on the bed.
"Seriously, a party favor?" She picked up the vibrator and surveyed it. "You really are damaged, my friend."
"Yes, I am. But that's already been well established. And I'm horny as hell right now, so watching you play with that toy should pretty much take me to the height of withdrawal pain."
"Or maybe you'll want to play too." She winked at me as she unwrapped the vibrator and examined it with a good deal of curiosity.
"Don't tell me you've never used one of those."
"O.K. I won't tell you." She flipped the switch and it took off in her hand, causing her to startle.
"You're kidding?"
"Yes, I am," she quipped. "I keep two or three in my purse. When I'm in the mood, I just flip the switch and go for it. Grocery store, theater, dentist’s office."
"I get the point." I motioned for her to scoot back against the pillows. I stood against the side of the bed, staring down at her like a man possessed.
Shay poured some lube on the vibrator and leaned back against the pillows. "Sure you don't want to do the honors?" she asked. "You wouldn't be touching me, technically. I'm not sure if I can get into this alone."
"Why is that? The women generally love those toys." I thought about earlier in the day when she went off on another unexplained errand. "Maybe you've already had too much sex today?" That one stupid moment of jealous thought blurted out loud stopped her short.
She sat up, still clutching the buzzing vibrator but looking more likely to heave it at me than push it between her thighs. "I was going to say it's hard to get relaxed and horny trying a sex toy for the first time with the man paying me to watch me get off looming over me like a voyeur. All while I sit naked on a bed that has seen multiple sex parties and where the guests leave with gifts." She held up the vibrator. "But you're right."
She climbed off the bed and walked around to the side where I stood. She lifted her chin defiantly, but the whole effect was sort of tempered by the fact that I was fully clothed and she was stark naked. But that didn't cool her determination to le
t me know just what a jerk I was. "I can't get into it because I've already had at least two other naked sessions in a man's bed. In fact, I've got three gigs just like this one lined up along the coast. But one of the men has found me so irresistible we've been having mind-blowing sex for days."
I lowered my face to hers and moved my body just inches from hers. The nearness of her naked skin, her taut nipples, her luscious scent made my pulse race. "You don't know what mind-blowing sex is, sweetheart."
"No?" she laughed dryly. "You cocky bastard. I've been with plenty of men, who, after one good roll in the sheets—" She pantomimed a head explosion with her fingers. "Mind-blown."
"I don't want you seeing anyone while you're living in this house." I couldn't keep the harshness out of my tone.
"I don't remember that part of the contract," she snapped back, waving the vibrator at me.
"So you admit you're seeing someone? If I can't touch you, no one can. I'm adding that to the contract."
"You can't do that. It's been signed. And why the hell would you care!"
"Because thinking about someone else touching you makes me want to—" I stopped. She didn't need to know that I was filled with jealous rage at the thought of her standing in someone else's arms.
Shay pushed her face up higher, closer to mine. Her lips parted. I was sure she'd tell me to go to hell. "I'm so fucking turned on right now," she blurted. "I'm going to start this fucking party." She pushed the vibrator between her legs, resting it tightly against her pussy. A half laugh, half gasp shot from her lips. "Holy shit. That's fucking awesome." Her head lulled back and her eyes drifted shut.
She was right there, standing inches from me, her skin blushed with arousal. I should have been between her legs. Not the damn vibrator.
She dropped back onto the bed and scooted back to the pillows. "Oh fuck," she whispered.
