by Leesa Bow
Her lips twitch. “Good morning,” she says, a little out of breath, as she closes the door.
“Yes, it is,” I say, confirming the obvious. “Would’ve been better if I woke with you beside me.” My gaze lowers to her bare thighs, my morning semi-wood twitches. She shifts from one foot to the other, and I only glance up when she walks behind the island bench, blocking my view.
“You were in a deep sleep and I needed to clear my head,” she says in a low voice, as though answering my silent question.
I walk to her and stop close enough to know I’m making her nervous, going by her pulse tapping in the nook of her neck.
Her eyes flick across my face, searching.
“Because of what happened last night?”
Tori picks up a knife and chops fruit from the bowl near the sink. “Fruit salad okay for breakfast?”
“Hell no. You’re going to talk to me, since you conveniently fell asleep last night.” From behind I cage her with my arms and grab hold of the knife. “How about we put this down first.” Tori stiffens when my erection presses into her back. “Because I’m not sure I feel safe with it in your hands.”
Tori’s fingers uncurl and she drops the knife. Her slender arms take her weight as she splays her fingers on the bench and dips her chin. “Stop. You’re only making it more difficult to—”
“Say no? Damn right.” I run my palms up and down her arms. “I’m still getting my head around last night and how you wanted to sleep with some random yet—”
“Fuck. I wanted to fuck,” she clarifies. It doesn’t sound right coming out of her sweet mouth. And I sense a random hook-up is not what she truly wanted.
“Why? I mean, you made it sound like you were using me, so why not fuck me?” Christ, my voice sounds raw, the pain still clawing at my chest at the way she dismissed me on Monday.
Tori pivots and her honey eyes narrow. Raising her pointy little nose, her nostrils flare. “Because it doesn’t mean anything, right?”
That hurt. A lot. I’ve never done anything to make her think she doesn’t mean anything to me. In fact, I thought I made it clear she’s the one I want.
She gives me a little shove with both her hands centred on my chest. I don’t budge. Tori glares, challenging me, so I take a step back to give her space.
“This is what you want? You want to fuck me right here, now? How do you usually do this with your usual hook-ups?” She presses against the bench as though assessing the weight. “How about I spread my legs for you here?”
I walk back a few steps and lean against the cupboards. My instinct is to go to her and wrap my arms around her, cradle her until her pain stops, but I know she needs to yell at me and get it out. “Could work.” Folding my arms across my chest I simply nod, preparing myself for the verbal assault she’s about to fire at me.
Her breath is ragged, wild. “No? What about the table?” She storms over to the table setting and with one quick action clears the surface by knocking her books and paperwork to the floor.
She stares at me, eyes on fire, waiting. “One of my favourites,” I say in a low, even tone. I nod to the modular lounge. “Might be more comfortable there.”
Tori marches to the lounge. “So here then?” She pulls her tank top over her head and throws it to the side.
Inhaling sharply, I freeze momentarily while taking in her full breasts. My dick reacts, but I lift my gaze and meet hers, letting her know I’m not playing her game. Keeping my eyes level, I say, “Sure, it could work, for now.”
“Of course,” she sneers. “Rhett Williams would never be satisfied with only one round.” Her gaze lasers mine. “So why are you standing there? Tori kicks off her runners. “How do you want me? On all fours?”
I’m beside her before she sets herself on the lounge and pull her back to my chest. “When I decide to take you,” I whisper in her ear, “it will be long and hard in your bed.” I spin her around so she’s looking at me. I lean in to kiss her, but she dodges my lips and turns her head to the side. “Why?” I ask, but not surprised.
Tori shakes her head, eyes glazed. “I can’t.”
“Why?” I demand.
“Because it’s a lie.”
I pull her into my arms, guiding her to sit. Cradling her to my chest, my arms cover her like a shield. “Be honest with me. What’s a lie?”
“You want the truth?” she croaks. “It’s you.”
“I’m a lie? Let me guess. You think I’m still a player?” Tori nods. “Why?” She remains quiet except for the sound of her quick, shallow breathing. At least we’re talking in a controlled manner. “Tell me straight. I need to know.”
“Because you give girls false hope, so I know you’ll treat me the same. And I can’t let my guard down.”
“Hang on a bit. Hope for what?”
Tori pushes off me and leans back. “You really don’t know?”
I shrug. “I’ve never offered a girl anything. It’s why it’s called a hook-up. They know what it is.”
“No, they don’t,” she snaps.
“You know something I don’t? Because the girls I’ve been with only want to tick a football player off their list. It’s not about me.”
Tori closes her eyes and opens them again. “For most, it would be about you if you allowed them in.” She taps on my chest near my heart. “If you only offer one night then they’ll take it, but if you offered them more …”
“They want my lifestyle, the label. Not me,” I grunt. She has no idea what it’s like to be wanted for all the wrong reasons.
“Did you kiss them like you were offering them more?”
I run a hand through my hair. “Are we talking about kissing or fucking here, because, like I said, because I’ve slept with a girl doesn’t mean—”
“Kissing,” she says sternly, interrupting me. Her brow pinches together and she’s staring as though I’ve missed something.
“You think kissing is more of a commitment than sleeping with someone?”
“It can be. Depends how you kiss. And after analysing you kissing nine different girls, I know they believe they have a chance with you.”
“It was for the show,” I say dryly.
“No. It was giving them a taste of what they could have with you after the show. You were giving them hope.”
“You think I shouldn’t kiss them?” I’m friggin’ losing my mind. What does she want me to do?
“Not the way you were. It was intimate, passionate and sending a message.”
The message she told me to send. “I was acting.”
“Exactly,” she says, matter of fact. She looks away as though it hurts to look at me, and my damn gut clenches.
“Boss, I’m not like that with you.” I rub my hands up and down her arms. I’m gauging her expression, hoping she understands what I’m telling her. “I’ve told you I want you, want to be with you after the show.”
“And you know we can’t.”
I want to shake her. What will it take for her to understand? “You’re the one hung up on doing the right thing here. And I still don’t understand why you won’t kiss me.”
Tori’s expression tenses, as though an emotional barricade stands between us. “I can’t allow you to kiss me like there’s hope, when you know I’m against breaking our contracts. We both have too much to lose, and it’s not for my own selfish reasons. I will not ruin your career. You’re a client first, and I’m determined to help you get re-signed. There’s a hell of a lot riding on me doing the right thing here.”
“I get it, Boss. I understand all the reasons, but neither of us planned for this to happen. We don’t have to tell anyone,” I reassure.
“We have signed contracts for the duration of the show. We need to honour them,” she reminds me.
“Our contracts might as well be on toilet paper, because, if you remember, we have kissed, before, and I’m damn sure sleeping with my boss will get me fired quicker than kissing. So back to the kissing thing. What’s the deal wi
th you not kissing me now?” I watch her throat as she swallows and I know she’s clamming up again.
“It feels like we’re cheating. And it doesn’t sit right with me.” She bites down on her lip. I’m staring at her mouth and I’m thinking how I want to suck her lip, taste some more. The silence forces my gaze to lift. Her brow furrows, and I curse myself for not focusing on her words.
“Cheating?” I want to argue, but her eyes glaze, as though she’s deep in thought. I can’t help thinking she’s hiding something, or not telling me the whole truth.
“You know what, let’s not talk about it anymore,” I say in a quieter tone. “I’ve made my point, so give it some thought.” She relaxes and I hurl myself at her in a playful tackle, wrapping my arms around her.
Tori squeals, the exact reaction I’m looking for. “I’m not one of your team mates.”
“No, you’re not,” I mock, and eye her breasts.
“Eyes up,” she reprimands.
I’m smiling because we’re messing around again. “Go shower, and then you can take me to your favourite café for breakfast, because I want you to show me where you hang out on weekends.”
TORI
Thankfully my favourite café, tucked away in a side street, only has a few diners. It’s perfect for Rhett to maintain a low profile.
Immediately after the waiter delivers coffee, a beautiful blonde approaches our table.
“Rhett, it’s great to see you.”
Rhett’s face lights up and my thoughts turn to full throttle, surmising the beautiful woman is an ex-girlfriend. The way they smile at one another I can’t help thinking they still have feelings for each other. I’m so engrossed watching their body language, her hand resting on his chest, I barely hear what they say.
“Tori. Tori,” Rhett repeats again.
“What? Oh, I’m sorry.” Heat creeps up my cheeks.
“This is my friend, Eden,” Rhett announces with a hand on her lower back.
“Lovely to meet you, Tori.” Eden holds out her hand and I take it.
“Likewise. I’m working with Rhett. I’m his mentor.” The words spill out. I need to clarify Rhett and I are not together. When I glance at Rhett he is frowning. Damn, I should have listened to their conversation.
“How long have you known Rhett?” Eden smiles like she knows a secret that I don’t.
“Not long,” Rhett intervenes. “I’m trying to get better acquainted with Tori, but every time I ask her out she turns me down.”
Eden studies me a moment then smiles. “I like you, Tori. You’re a smart one.”
“Okay, I think it’s time for you to leave.” He takes Eden into a tight hug and she plants a kiss on his cheek. “How long are you home?”
Eden shrugs. “Depends on … someone else,” she hesitates. I’m not sure if I’m imagining the tears welling in her eyes. “Anyway, you two get back to your coffee before they go cold.”
“Call me before you leave,” Rhett says.
“I will.” Eden looks at me. “Lovely to meet you, Tori.”
As soon as Eden is out the door, I fire the question burning on my lips. “An ex?”
“Nope. Just a friend.” Rhett casually takes a sip of coffee, not at all offended by my prying.
That surprises me. “Really? I picked her to be your type.”
“There’s that word again.” The space between his brows dents. “There’s only one girl I’m interested in getting to know. So how about you start by telling me what you like to do on weekends?”
“I’m not that interesting.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“When you discover how boring I am you’ll change your mind.”
His gaze fixes on mine, challenging me.
“I like my own company,” I answer truthfully. “On occasions, I meet up with Ingrid, but most of the time I find somewhere to relax, because of the long hours I work. Saturdays I tie up any work-related loose ends, if I didn’t manage it on Friday, attend to chores, and fit in an exercise session. On a Sunday you might find me strolling through the botanical gardens, or reading a book in a park. In summer I head to the beach. I also enjoy the cinema.”
“Alone?” He winches an eyebrow.
“Sure. Nothing wrong with going to the cinema by yourself.” I shrug, thinking nothing of it. “I don’t have to please anyone and can laugh or cry without embarrassing the person next to me.”
“I’d like to go with you the next time.”
“I laugh loud,” I warn.
“The more reason I’d like to be there.” He takes my hand in his, his thumb skimming my skin as he studies it. “And if you were scared I’d hold your hand.”
“Like a friend,” I say, and slowly pull my fingers from his grasp. “Luckily, I don’t do horror.” Rhett nods. He glances at his watch, then gives me a disconcerting look. “What is it?”
“I’m supposed to be meeting my team mates. I can cancel.”
“No, go see them. It will be weeks before you next can.”
“I’ll come back after and we can have dinner together.”
“Rhett I—”
“I’m coming back,” he says firmly. “I’ll arrange it.” He winks at me. “Think of it as me keeping a low profile under your surveillance.”
My heart flutters, knowing he wants to be with me. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
He leans in. “No, Boss. I intend to survey you in other ways, but for your peace of mind I’ll stick with that.” His eyes darken, and my insides tighten, thinking of those other ways.
“Rhett,” I whisper. The way he’s staring I know there’s no point arguing. I’m putting off the inevitable. I’m done fighting him. It’s like a light switch has flicked and I’m looking at us in a completely different light. “You’re right. Neither of us planned this.”
Rhett’s eyes widen, and his smile lights up his beautiful face. He stands, pulling out his wallet ready to pay. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
I can’t get rid of the guilt flowing through me, knowing I’m about to succumb to Rhett. I need to talk with Ingrid, explain everything, and hopefully, she’ll either tell me to smarten up or say it’s okay. I doubt she’ll lean toward the latter.
I send her a text and ask her to meet up so we can chat.
Ingrid asks to meet late afternoon at hers, as Brent will be with his friends and won’t be home for a few hours. I grab my bag and drive to her house, repeating a mantra in my head, Ingrid will understand.
Ingrid and Brent live in a quiet, up-market suburb only fifteen minutes from my city apartment. Their home is a Tudor style, built in the early 1900s, which they have been slowly renovating. Ingrid opens the door and smiles, unaware of the bubble of nerves growing inside me. She’s dressed in a flowing, Bohemian-inspired lemon-and-white serape. Blonde hair feathers her face. In comparison, I dressed far too quickly and look dishevelled, with my hair brushed into a pony before walking out the door. I didn’t bother changing out of the tank top and denim shorts I wore all afternoon.
Ingrid fires questions at me regarding Rhett. I manage to dodge associating him with me. We talk about his connection with the contestants, mainly “her” girls, but an hour later we open a bottle of wine. After two glasses down, she asks about my secret trip to his farm. I now have enough courage to answer her honestly.
“You were right. He is Thor in disguise. He fiercely protects his home and family, and it was a privilege to stay at the farm and get to know them.”
Ingrid tilts her head. “Really. So you stayed with him in the house. I wasn’t sure if you stayed at a motel nearby. How did you cope, sleeping in close proximity to him? I’d be inclined to sneak into his room at night.” She clicks her tongue, and gives me her best swoon-worthy look.
“I didn’t have to.” I laugh. “He crept into mine.” I stall, and glance up at her. “But nothing happened, I promise,” I say quickly, seeing her expression change.
Ingrid tilts her head. “Impossible. An
d the way you’ve been acting all week, I knew something had changed between you.”
“I’ve been the same,” I admonish. “Nothing happened, especially not with his mother in the room nearby.”
“But it has happened,” Ingrid says, in a quieter voice, prompting me. Taking a swig of wine, I avoid her gaze. “C’mon Tori, spill.”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “But not then.” Ingrid’s eyes grow round and I moan. “Neither of us planned this.” I hope I sound as convincing as Rhett did, when he said it to me.
“Of course not. If anyone could elude his charm it was you. It’s why I asked Grant to assign you.”
“I wish you hadn’t.” I don’t care if I was perfect for the job. It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.
“What are you not telling me?”
I pick up the wine bottle and pour another glass. “I’m going to need to stay a while before I can drive home.”
“Yes, you are.” Ingrid pries the bottle from my fingers and empties the contents into her glass. “So how about you start from the beginning.”
The way she says this makes my shoulders relax. After a deep breath, I start from the first day he asked me out for a drink. Hopefully, by the end she’ll understand why I’m besotted by him, and struggling to keep away.
I’m not sure how long I rattle on, giving Ingrid details I shouldn’t. For some reason I’m liberated, after revealing my secret to her.
“You took him to the storeroom?” she gasps.
“I know. Like I said, I’m not sure what came over me. I thought I’d hurt him by telling him I was using him for sex and that would be the end of it.”
Ingrid snorts. “You thought having awesome sex would stop you from craving more?”
“I know. Dumb move.” I take another mouthful. “I’m like a drug addict, and can’t seem to get enough of him. I want to know when my next fix is.”
“So the rumours are true,” she says musingly.
My shoulders slump as I let out a sigh. “All I can think about is how many pieces of furniture we can do it on tonight when I go home.”
