by R. S. Elliot
My eyes flick over Zach’s mouth, leaning into him.
“I want you. Only you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zach
“This doesn’t have to be a short-list, Aly,”
I explain, my hands lifting her shirt up over her head. I can’t control myself any more than she can. After two weeks of celibacy, and foreplay conducted solely via telephone, my cock leaps ready into action within seconds. “You can add more things to it later.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
Damn.
The huskiness in her words cuts off the oxygen supply to my brain. I’m pretty sure she isn’t just talking about her hopes and dreams. Although, my hopes and dreams at the moment are looking more and more like this reality. And there are still so many positions left to try.
My nimble fingers remove her jeans, while she tugs off the layers of sweaters and shirts I’m still wearing. I lay her back against the couch. My mouth glides over her body, committing to memory every taste of this moment, every sensation. This isn’t our first time, but everything has changed.
I’m not sure what the future holds for us, but I know Aly is my tomorrow, my everyday.
My forever.
She unbuttons my pants, sliding them down over my hips with my underwear, while my hands stroke her sensitive core. Her soft moans encourage me to move faster. I can’t hold off like I normally do. I’ve wanted Aly for too long, keeping her at a distance for an unnatural amount of time.
Not anymore.
I don’t care what my father says, what he does. I don’t need a billion dollars for Aly and me to be happy. All worries about what might happen at the university don’t even matter to me. Jackson has his leverage. He has his recommendation. He’ll get the apprenticeship, but Aly will get her organization.
Her future is set, and I will spend a lifetime making sure she gets everything she deserves.
I retrieve a condom from my nightstand, quickly sheath it over my erection, and position myself against Aly’s entrance. My lips press against the sensitive spot at the back of Aly’s neck. Her body shudders beneath mine, sending ripples of liquid fire streaming down my skin.
“Are you ready for me?” I whisper against her throat.
“Yes,” she whimpers. “I can’t wait any longer.”
I slide into her, trying to hold myself back. She may not be able to wait either, but she’s still not used to all of this. I pace myself. Trying to think of anything to slow me down. But my need for Aly is blinding. Her body tightens around me, and she tosses her head back in a long, sweet cry of contentment.
My God.
She’s perfect. Every last inch of her. I’ll never get enough of Aly, never want more than this woman in my arms, surrendering to every rise of ecstasy taking hold of her.
“More, Zach.”
The words tumble out of her mouth in a flurry of strangled breaths. “Please.”
Her thighs wrap around my waist, meeting each of my thrusts with the rhythmic beat of her own hips. There’s no way I can keep control. I’m already too close to slipping. I press into her harder, faster. The tension in my body feels close to snapping. I watch her pleasure mount with each wave of sensations taking hold of her. Her release comes quickly. Sensual, delectable spasms radiate from her core into my cock, and I collapse on top of her as my own release surges through me.
I roll to my side, pulling her with me, our bodies still connected. Her body curves into mine, snug and tight in my embrace. God, I love this woman.
“Zach,” Aly whispers against my neck. Her fingers draw lazy circles along my chest. “What do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do I have to go another two weeks without seeing you?”
Damn. I’m such an ass.
I’ve put us both through hell this entire relationship. All to save a reputation and career that mean little to me anymore.
“No, Aly.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll take it one day at a time. The main focus is on getting your mother back to health.”
She nods and sits up. Her eyes wander up toward the ceiling. “So is your entire house just a living room and what looks like a kitchen from here?”
“Don’t worry.” I sit up beside her, kissing her shoulder. My mouth moves up to her ear. “Before this night is over, I am going to make love to you on every surface of this house.”
She shivers. “Really? That’s going to take a very long time.”
“Then we should probably get started.”
We only make it to three surfaces total before collapsing onto my bed for the night.
Aly is running on whatever sleep she got while in the hospital, and I am running off of what few hours I could claim while worrying about what to do with Aly. One obstacle out of the way, I slept soundly for the first time in weeks.
I glance over at Aly, her red hair splayed across my pillow. She looks something like a painting I saw of a renaissance woman napping in a field of flowers. Her plush lips part against a breath. If this was my morning for the rest of my life, all the riches in the world couldn’t make me happier.
I slide out of bed, careful not to wake her, and head downstairs. I haven’t even finished pouring myself a coffee when my phone rings.
My father.
I might as well bite the bullet on this one and get my tongue-lashing over with. I answer the video call to my father’s scowling. He’s not even staring at me. Instead, he’s looking over something on the computer, or paper documents. I can’t tell. Whatever it is is beyond my scope. Though I’m certain it pertains to me in some sort of way.
“What are all these charges, Zachary?” he asks.
“Good morning to you, too, Father.” I prop the phone up against the wall and finish preparing my breakfast.
“Enough. What’s this wire charge for fifty thousand dollars?”
“I bought a hitman.”
“Fine. What about this other charge for a hundred thousand dollars?”
It concerns me that he just whole-heartedly accepted my answer. Does he think “hitman” is a euphemism for something else? Or does he think asking me further questions will somehow hold him culpable in the future? I can’t imagine he’d find buying a hitman as normal as purchasing Armani loafers.
“The hundred thousand was to pay off my medical bills,” I explain.
He grimaces into the camera. “When did you get sick?”
“You mean you didn’t notice?”
His face darkens. “Don’t be a wise-ass. I know what you’re trying to do. Spend as much money as possible before you’re cut off.”
He thinks I’m out on shopping sprees trying to scrounge up as many material possessions I can until the cash flow runs out. The sad thing is that my father should know me better. I’ve never fit into his lifestyle. Sure, I enjoy the occasional sports cars and designer clothes as well as the next person. But they are not life.
“Really, Father. That seems like a drop in the bucket compared to what Aunt Edith spends on her dog each month.”
My father slices a conceding hand upward. “Fine, consider this my last gesture of kindness before closing out your accounts.”
“You’re right. Very generous.”
“You think this is a game?” He’s been bluffing, the same as he’s always done. My father doesn’t really want to cut me off. I don’t even think he really knows how. He just wants me to do what he wants.
Eventually, his bluffs will turn into action. Which I suspect from the redness in his cheeks will be very soon. “Did I hear right that you are no longer interested in Chloe?”
“I was never interested in her from the beginning. I made that quite clear.”
His eyes narrow into thin daggers. “You were interested in maintaining contact with your mother and bank accounts from what I remember.”
“You can take my money, Dad,” I say. “You can’t take my mother.”
Shock filters over him.
He’s sur
prised I’m actually challenging him. “We shall see about that.”
“Yes, we will.” I pause, staring back at him cooly from across my coffee mug. “Are we finished?”
“No.” The camera trembles. “You’re going to call Chloe and apologize. Propose. Anything to win her back.”
“I’m not going to do that.” I remain unfazed. I’m set on this. There is nothing this man can do to me anymore to bend me to his will. “I’m not marrying Chloe.”
A weight gently lifts from my shoulders.
Am I finally going to get out from under my father’s shadow? Am I finally going to have the freedom to live as I please, do what I please, love who I want? The idea is both unnerving and empowering all at once. I’ve never been without a billion-dollar support system before. Now, I’ll be reliant on a significantly reduced source of funds, but I won’t have to answer for how I spend them.
I won’t have to answer for anything. At least not to him.
“Do you have some little hussy on the side?” my father asks suddenly.
I freeze. Whatever threat he means to hurtle toward me, toward Chloe, I’ll combat it every step of the way. “Let me give you some advice, son,” he says instead. “The thrill will wear off over time. Love fades. Desire fades. Money and family are the only things that last.”
“Until you don’t want to marry the woman your father chooses, right?”
“Fine, so be it. I’m closing the accounts.”
I shrug, knowing my indifference irritates my father even more than arguing. “That’s fine.”
“And taking the house.”
Now, this is where we get into a grey area. “The house is in my name. Only my name. Fully paid off. So...that’s not going to work.”
His nostrils flare into the computer screen. A rather unpleasant sight in all honesty. But I’m enjoying getting the upper hand on my father for once. It’s liberating. “Then...I’ll think of something.”
“Fine, Dad. Just send me a list, and I’ll make sure I set it outside in a flaming box for you to come pick up.”
“You insufferable-”
I shut the phone off before he can hurtle any more insults at me. I’ve spent too many years taking his humiliating words to heart. Spent years dodging his blows and tempers. Yet his words continue to sting even after I’ve hung up the phone.
The thrill will wear off over time.
Is it true? Will everything I’m feeling for Aly wear away over time? I’ve never felt this way for anyone before. I’ve never admitted to myself that I was in love with a woman. Yet, who’s to say this won’t all fade over time?
We aren’t getting married, I remind myself. Whatever sacrifices I’m making now is only partly due to Aly being in my life. I should have ended this power-struggle with my father years ago. No matter what it cost me. I just never had the courage to do it until now.
We can’t control what our parents do. Isn’t that the same story I’d been feeding to Aly? I can’t convince my mother to leave my father, to stand up to him so she can see me even after he deems it’s forbidden. I can’t control the stupid things that come out of my father’s mouth, or how he tries to manipulate everyone around him.
But I can make myself one less pawn in his game.
“So it's true? You really broke up with her?”
I look up to see Aly in the doorway, wearing one of my t-shirts I laid out for her. All of our clothes from last night are still crumpled in a heap on the floor beside the couch. “How long have you been listening?”
She rubs the dirt out of her eyes and stretches. As she does, the shirt she’s wearing exposes her thighs. It stops short of where my mind automatically goes. I doubt she’s wearing any underwear. And I did promise we’d christen every surface of the house. We haven’t made it out to the kitchen yet.
“Just around the part of you needing to propose to Chloe to win her back,” she says.
“Oh.” Good. She missed all the other details about the payments I’d made.
“So, you really are done with her?”
“You didn’t believe me?” A small pang stabs at my chest. She looks so hopeful. Did she not believe anything I said to her last night? Perhaps I didn’t do a good enough job of proving myself to her. There’s still time to do that, at least.
“Well, I mean. I just figured it was one of those things guys say to women to get them into bed.”
“Then why would you sleep with me if you thought that?”
She blushes.
Her eyes shift to the side, and she quickly changes the subject. “Is he really taking away everything?”
“No. Well, I mean, yes.” I pull a second coffee mug from the cabinet and pour her a cup. “For the most part. But there are things he doesn’t know about.”
“Does he always talk to you like that?”
That she heard. At least it was all pretty tame compared to how my father usually reacts. “It’s fine, Aly.”
“No, it’s not. He shouldn’t threaten you like that.”
“Well, he does. He’s always done that.”
Her soft blue eyes peer back at me with all the warmth of a cloudless summer day. I want to fall into her gaze all over again. I want to share everything with her. But what good would any of it do?
“Zach…”
“Look, I grew up in a big mansion,” I explain. “Nothing ever denied me. Best schools, best tutors. Country clubs. All of that. I don’t really have a right to complain about my childhood, do I?”
She stares back at me, blankly. Unconvinced.
I sigh and run my hand across my face. “You don’t want to hear this.”
“I do.” She sets one hand on her hip. If this is her way of intimidating me, I think I can handle it. “Just tell me.”
What’s the harm in telling her? She’s never going to meet this man. With any luck, he’ll be out of my life for good. “My father doesn’t really have that warm and fuzzy setting. That was always my mother. Dad runs hot or cold. There is no in-between. If he was upset with you, the man could ignore you for days. All it would take is one ‘business trip’ to Monaco during your piano recital, and you’d get the picture.”
Those large doe eyes cut through me once again.
I don’t deserve the sad, round eyes she’s giving me, the ones that look up at me with love and compassion. I grew up with both parents. Never had to worry about bills or anything getting taken away from me if I missed a payment. So why is she looking at me like that? Like she’s actually hurting listening to me recount my childhood.
“And your mother?” she asks. “How did she react to all of this?”
“She just picked up the slack. She would be there for everything, do everything. I mean, it felt like he wasn’t even necessary really. But when my mom and he would get into it, I just, I couldn’t stand it.”
“What would they fight about?”
“Affairs. His. Overspending. Usually hers. Not that it was ever anything too crazy. It was just his way of deflecting things off of himself.”
Fear flashes across her features. She quickly shuts it down, and asks, “And you tried to get in the middle of all this?”
“When I did, my father’s temper was always at its boiling point. I was so afraid he’d hit her, I’d just take the brunt of it myself.”
“He hit you?”
I don’t want to answer that. I don’t want to admit what my childhood was like. Overall, I had an excellent life. There wasn’t much to complain about except for this. Seeing her so sympathetic toward me now is too painful for words. I don’t deserve her sympathy. Especially after all she’s suffered in her life. I just had to deal with the occasional explosions of my hotheaded father.
I shrug. “Poor little rich kid, right?”
“You were still a kid.” The silence stretches between us. “Is that how you got the scar over your eye?”
I look down. How do you explain something like that? “Yeah. That was the last fight my parents ever had. My father br
oke a glass against the side of my head. I was out cold. My mother thought he’d hit my temple and killed me. She never argued with him after that. I guess she didn’t want to risk me stepping in again.”
She finally walks toward me. Her hands come up to the side of my face, caressing my jawline, my cheeks and my brow. I lean into her. “Well, you won’t have to worry about him anymore.”
I nod and press a kiss into her palm. “You should probably check if the hospital has called.”
She moves away from me and checks her phone. Her fingers skim over the screen, tapping on random keys and buttons beyond my view. Instantly, her face lights up. She does a little endearing hop that forces a smile from me.
“Omigosh,” is all she says.
“What is it? Is your mother doing better?”
“It’s not that.” She’s bubbling over with so much excitement, she can just barely even form words. “It’s about the apprenticeship. I got it. They chose me.”
The apprenticeship?
So much for my recommendation. Jackson is going to think I never gave it. I should have known Jackson’s proposal wouldn’t stand a chance against Aly’s, even with my stamp of approval.
The apprenticeship went to Aly.
Fuck. We’re screwed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Aly
I made it through the next day with my mother, before returning to school.
If anything, I need to touch base with my professors, collect any necessary materials and explain the situation that may take me out of class for an additional week. That should give me enough time to work out what to do with my mother.
For now, the hospital has her under a forty-eight-hour observation period. I’m nauseated just thinking about the size of that bill, but it’s a relief to know my mother is safe for now. Zach was right. There isn’t anything I can do to prevent any horrible thing from ever happening to her again. I can’t control what my mother does, but I can control the kind of help she needs.
