by Julia Bright
“I’m an asshole.”
I almost have to spit out my food from laughing so hard. He shrugs when I’ve recovered enough it seems like I’m not going to choke.
“What can I say, it’s true. I’ve been a jerk.”
“Okay, so what other rules can we come up with?”
“Wait, you’re just making these up on the fly?”
His lips thin and his brows bunch together. I imagine him above me, his brows knit tightly as he slides into me. A tiny gasp escapes my lips. I want to feel his hands on me. I should be stronger, but I’m not.
“I’m making them up. Do you have anything to say about that?”
He takes another bite of food and lifts his brows. “No, because even if I’m a dick, I want you to be happy.”
“You’re being too kind.”
He rolls his eyes. “Apparently, I’m not a nice guy.”
I eat a little more and drink some wine while I study Baxter. “So, they didn’t even ask what we wanted to eat.”
“They know me here, and that’s how Mama is.”
“Mama?”
“She runs this place with an iron fist. Trust me, no one tells Mama no.”
I chuckle and eat a little more as I watch Baxter with hooded eyes. I’m horny. He’s turned me on with his kindness, or maybe it’s the fact that his touch started a fire in me that still hasn’t cooled off. “When you drop me off, will you come up?”
He pauses with his fork midway to his mouth. The look in his eyes tells me all I need to know. He wants to have sex too. I can imagine myself with a man like Baxter as long as he doesn’t turn cruel. We could have fun together. I enjoy his company, which is something I can’t say about the other men I’ve tried to date. More than once I’d given up on a guy because they get jealous of my work.
“So will you?” I ask again.
He nods. “Oh yeah. I want to come with you.”
I gasp and glance around. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
It was. I duck my head, trying to hide my giggle as I take another bite of pasta. I was going to get lucky tonight. And I was very happy about it. My panties were melting, and it all had to do with Baxter.
The drive to my place takes about thirty minutes and in that time, I think about giving him a blowjob. Baxter finds a parking spot and helps me up with my bags. He glances around my living room decorated with various pieces of work. He pauses in front of a blue and green vase.
“The art in your home is beautiful. I really like your style.”
“I’ve had the opportunity to travel a lot. When I go someplace amazing, I look for art. Sometimes I find pieces that are really great and I can’t part with them.”
He glances over his shoulder, his eyes dark with lust. “Your home has so much character. Mine is drab compared to yours.”
I should say something about my stores and my clothing line. The moment passes when Baxter turns quickly and tugs me close. His hand weaves through my hair. A gentle tug positions my mouth so he can kiss me deeply. I want this kiss more than air.
His tongue thrusts in as he holds me in place. He is forceful and demanding with his touch and I love it. I melt against him as he twines his tongue around mine. The kiss ends and I’m sad at its departure.
“I need to shower,” I say.
“I’m all for that.” Baxter tugs off his shirt and I stare in wonder at his tight abs and his muscular chest. The sight of the tattoo touches my heart.
“You’re so sexy,” I whisper.
“So are you. Your ass is curved just right.”
This time I laugh. I’m not sure anyone has ever told me they like how my ass looks. “Keep talking.”
He unbuttons my dress and slides the zipper low. “There’s so much about you I really like.”
“Like what?”
His finger traces over my back to my rear. “I like this place on your back. It’s right above your ass. I like how your body swells here.” His hand dips into my dress and he grabs my butt cheek and squeezes. I yelp and he chuckles.
He slips my dress off one shoulder and lets it fall. His eyes widen as he stares at my bare breasts. The flick of his tongue makes me want it on my clit. The sex had been good between us before, and I knew it would be good this time too.
When his cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, I know he’s really into this. “Do you ever wear underwear?”
His question isn’t that surprising. My breasts aren’t that big. “Rarely. This dress is designed so I don’t have to wear a bra.”
“Smart designer. I need to write her a letter and tell her I approve.”
I laugh uncomfortably. I should tell him, but he lowers his head and sucks in my nipple. My breath is taken away as desire swamps me. I need more. My fingers twist in his hair and he moves to my other breast. My dress is puddled on the floor and all I’m wearing is my strappy heels.
Baxter picks me up. “Bathroom.”
“That door.” I point to my bathroom and he carries me in, setting me down next to the tub. He tugs at his clothes, popping off a button as he pulls off his shirt. I reach down and remove my shoes while he finishes undressing.
We’re both naked and under the spray. His hands rove over my body, touching me everywhere as he gets me clean while making my thoughts dirty. His fingers slip lower on my abs to my slit. He slides his fingers over my clit and I gasp. He knows what he’s doing as his finger presses gently.
His kisses distract me for a moment then his fingers slide into me before moving back to my clit, circling ever so gently. I’m about to come undone. I want more and thrust my hips forward. Baxter chuckles and removes his hand.
“We go at my pace. The last two times I moved too fast. This time, I want to draw it out.”
My body is vibrating with need and I’m going to come just from his words. It has been days since I’ve had an orgasm, and I need the release. I moan and don’t want to wait.
His tongue slides over my neck to my ear. He nibbles on the fleshy lobe while he toys with my clit. I’m so close to shattering that I start pumping my hips. He reaches down and stills them again.
“We’ve got all night.” His head lowers and he sucks my nipple into his mouth and he tugs on it. I cry out and arch against him.
His fingers slide into me and his thumb grazes over my clit. It’s too much. My hands grasp at his arms as I try to stay upright. He’s got me so hot I can hardly stand it.
His moan against my breast pushes me over the edge. I come, unhinging as he holds me up, keeping me on my feet. This was the type of sex I’d dreamt of but never had. Even the last time we’d had sex wasn’t as good as this.
Baxter lifts my leg and wraps it around his waist. He slides in, sinking deep, taking my breath. I hold on, knowing I could easily lose myself to this man. He knows how to get to me. I shouldn’t let him into my life, but I want to. I want to have more nights like this. I want to feel his body pressed up against mine. I’ve seen snatches of his true self, where he’s not being a jerk and I like him.
The roll of his hips drives me crazy as he shoves in deep then almost pulls out. He’s masterful with his movements, and I’m close to coming again. My lips land on his neck and I suck hard. He pistons in fast, his cock hitting just the right spot. I shiver and let go, coming just as he stills and his muscles tighten.
“God, Heather,” he whispers before pulling back then slamming into me. “Fucking perfect.”
Blood roars in my ears as he stills and gasps. After a few seconds of him gasping and holding me close as he tries to slide in even deeper, he pulls out and helps steady me. I reach back, holding onto the wall so I don’t fall over.
“You okay?”
I nod at Baxter’s question. “That was amazing.”
“Good, because I want to do that with you again and again. How does that sound?”
I chuckle and reach for the soap. He takes the bar and washes my body, being very gentle between my legs. When we f
inish our shower, I’m exhausted, but I don’t want him to go. I lead him to my bedroom, hoping he’ll really spend the whole night. He stops still. It’s kind of hard to miss the rack of clothes on one wall or the stack of fabric, or the mannequins that are half dressed.
“You have a lot of clothes.”
“Um…I do.”
He moves to my drawing table and stares at my latest design before he turns to face the mannequin wearing the dress I’m sewing for the Met Gala. He glances at me, his brows raised.
“This is very nice.”
I nod and move closer. “The woman who will be wearing it likes it.”
He sits on the side of the bed and then turns to look up at me. “Tell me one thing, the clothes you wear, they aren’t just things you’ve bought, are they?”
I shake my head. “No, they aren’t.”
He nods and then looks at the racks of clothes again. “You made these. All of them, right?”
“Yes.”
“Funny thing.” Baxter scratches the back of his neck as he stares at the floor. “There’s this new store I pass by sometimes when I go to my parents’ apartment. I’ve never really paid attention to it before, but I walked past last week and noticed the clothes were similar to what you wore. I even went in and browsed around, thinking about what I’d like to buy for you and what you would look good in.”
I laugh and move to the bed, plopping down beside him. “You didn’t buy anything, did you?”
“No, but one of the sales clerks is going to help me pick out something next week.”
“That’s too funny.”
“So you own HipFeather?”
I nod. “Yes. I have two stores in California and the one in New York. I’m looking at Chicago and Austin, Texas. I’ve been in talks with a company in Paris and one in Barcelona. I’ll probably have something in London too.”
He stares up at the ceiling, his lips thin. When he turns to glance at me, I see sorrow in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“I never once even tried to figure out what you did for a living. I was so focused on me and my problems. I discounted you and I never should have. You were talented when we were in school, and I can see that talent in your designs. I should have paid more attention and not doubted you.”
I nod, knowing I have to ask. “When you yelled at me, what was going through your mind?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I was jealous of you. You’re so positive all the time. You know what you’re doing. You’re always so happy.”
I shrug. “I am happy.”
“How can life be that simple?”
“You have to find something that makes you feel good.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know what makes me happy. My dad is angry at me. Right now, I still have my job, but he’s talking about coming back and taking over the business. They never left New York this time, and Mom is beside herself. She doesn’t want him to die, but he’s miserable in Florida and she hates New York.”
I laugh then shake my head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.”
“It is funny. It’s one big comedy of errors.” He turns and grabs my shoulders. “I don’t want to be like him.”
“Then don’t,” I whisper.
“I’m not sure how to stop. I don’t know what to do. What if I can’t change?”
“One day at a time,” I suggest.
Baxter leans his forehead against mine. “Can I stay the night?”
“Yes.” The answer slips out quickly, revealing my need. I want him in my bed and in my life. Part of the problem was me too. I should have told him up front I wasn’t okay playing the part of his fiancée. I should have revealed I had a business to run and wasn’t just some cool hippie chick that had no cares in the world.
“I’m not perfect.”
My fingers play over his shoulder and down his arm. “Maybe we won’t work out, but I want to try.”
“Me too. I’m sorry I yelled. Give me a chance and I’ll show you that I can be better.”
“I want you to give you a chance too. Do you really want to work for your dad’s company?”
He blows out a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. I used to think I could do some good in this world, but then I came back here.”
He yawns and stretches. I take his hand, standing before I hug him. “Let’s get some sleep. You can take your time to think about it.”
His gaze is unfocused and he gives me a small smile. “Sure.”
Once the lights are off and I’m wrapped in his arms, I can’t help but feel happiness. He needs to work on himself. Maybe his dad coming back to run the company would help Baxter.
Chapter Seven
Baxter
I need to make some changes. First on the list to “fix Jason Delaney Baxter-Scott” is to change how I deal with my dad. I can’t allow him to continue to try and control me. At one point, I had an idea I thought would work, but I wasn’t sure I could do it now. I’d sold my soul when I’d gone to work for my dad. Now, I need to reclaim my life.
The hardest email I’ve ever written sits in my outbox waiting for me to press send. I call my dad because I can’t do this any longer and I’m not going to hide my actions. I’ll be up-front with him because I’m not ever going to go back to being the type of guy who hides from problems.
“What do you want, Jacey?” The greeting from my dad was about what I’d expected.
“I’m turning in my resignation.”
“You little shit. I’ve given you everything you’ve ever had.”
“No, Dad, you haven’t. I’ve worked hard for what I’ve had. You have tried to thwart me at every turn. You didn’t pay me when I was in college, and you didn’t pay for my undergrad degree. Don’t you remember, your father set up the account for me and paid into it? You decided I can’t have the company though I’ve worked hard to understand the ins and outs of the business. I don’t know what you think you’ve given me.”
He says nothing so I hang up. Next, is turning in my resignation. After facing my dad, it’s easy. I send a note, telling the CEO I’m done. I don’t get into why, just that I’m leaving the company.
I spend the next hour tying up loose threads, making sure whoever takes my place can manage the area effectively. My absence will probably be celebrated. This company is toxic because my dad wanted it to be that way.
My mom calls before I can leave for the day. She tries to convince me to stay. “You’ll regret this.” Her voice goes shrill as she yells into the phone.
“Mom, I know what I’m doing.”
“What? Like dating that low-class girl.”
I bristle, wanting to tell her to go to hell. Instead, I keep my voice even. “She isn’t low class.”
“Well, we certainly don’t approve.”
I laugh at the absurdity of her statement. “You don’t approve of me. You never have, so knock off the manipulation. I’m not going to ever be what you and Dad want.”
I don’t wait for her to reply. With my phone turned to vibrate, I head out, waving off questions because at this moment, I don’t give a flip.
I catch the 6 train uptown and head to Heather’s store. She’s talking to a woman in red who doesn’t look like she would ever wear Heather’s clothes. The stuff at HipFeather was too free-spirited. Heather catches my eye and smiles. I nod and run my fingers over a dress, thinking it would look good on her.
“Hey.” Her voice startles me out of my thoughts.
“Hey yourself.”
“You’re off work early.”
“I quit.”
“What?” Heather’s eyes are wide, her smile genuine.
“I called my dad and told him I was done. My mom called and I told her the same thing. I sent a note to my boss and said I was leaving. He hasn’t called me back or sent an email, but I’m sure he will after he gets an earful from my dad.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I tossed my dream
s in the trash can long ago. I’m not sure I know what to do.”
“You have time, right?”
“I think so. The place I rent is cheap. I was saving money to buy an apartment close to my parents. I guess I’m glad I never made that purchase.”
“So you have money to live.”
Her concern was endearing. “I do.”
The door dinged and Heather glances over. One of her employees is taking care of the customer and Heather weaves her fingers with mine, leading me outside. We walk toward the park and I’m amazed by the amount of traffic. I’d spent the last few years bowing down to my father, working all kinds of hours so I might be chosen to lead the company—of course, it wasn’t ever going to happen. I’d stopped living when I moved here and I hated what I’d become.
There’s a fruit vendor where Heather stops and purchases us apples. She’s so easy and relaxed it makes me smile. How could I have ever walked away from her?
“You’re a smart man, Baxter.”
“I don’t really feel smart.”
“Well, you are. How about I cook you dinner at my place?”
I nod and take another bite of the apple. “I’d like that.”
We wander back to her office, her pointing out architecture she likes and clothes she thinks looks good on people. She also points out badly made clothing. I enjoy our walk and her easy attitude. Spending time with her makes me happy. For so long I’d ignored my happiness in sacrifice for some elusive promise my father never intended on fulfilling.
She tells me she has work to do, and I realize I need to do some more work on myself. I head home and open my computer. My email has blown up. My dad has thrown his weight around and he’s bitching at the CEO and my boss. But it won’t do any good. I’m done with bowing down to him.
I take the time to send the CEO and my boss emails, telling them they haven’t done anything wrong. Next is an email to my dad, telling him I won’t be party to his meltdown.
I sit back and watch the traffic on York. Since moving back east and starting on my master’s degree, I’ve not taken time for myself. Life revolved around pleasing my dad. There are so many options out there, but what should I do? The only thing I’m sure of is I won’t bow down to my dad anymore. It’s time I start making my own way. Volunteer work intrigues me.
