by Kreig, K. L.
“Luke, how’s the relo going?” Conn asks.
“It’s coming. I found some cheap office space on the south side of town. I need to hire another guy because Johnny doesn’t want to relocate from Dayton to Chicago. Then need to figure out a place to stay. It’ll be a while yet before I make the move official.”
“I thought Livvy’s portion of the lease was in your name?” Gray asks, taking a sip of his coffee. “You just renewed it a couple months ago. Why don’t you stay there? You’re responsible for the rent on it anyway, unless you sublease it.”
Huh? Something else I didn’t know. How many ways is Luke tied up with Livia, soon-to-be Mrs. Gray Colloway? Gray seems completely neutral on the issue, like we’re talking about paint color or something. I wish I knew what the hell happened with those three.
Luke shrugs noncommittally. “Been thinking about it, but I’m not sure I want to room with a chick. Especially that one. She’s a little high strung.”
Gray laughs. “She is that. But she’s also pretty hot.”
Luke smirks. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d worship at her church any Sunday. I’m just not sure I want to live in the temple full-time.”
“Mmmhmm,” Gray hums, eyeing Luke like he knows he’s full of shit. Luke flips him the finger and I almost sigh because things seem to be getting back to normal slowly but surely between the four of us. It’s nice.
Molly comes back with Luke’s coffee and we place our orders. Most of our breakfasts here are spent in harmless flirty banter with Molly. She’s a cute enough blonde, probably mid-forties. Never been married. We tip her well and she takes good care of us. This time, however, it’s almost like Conn, Gray, and I don’t even exist. She cannot tear her eyes away from Luke. He’s playing her like an expert bassist as we all watch and laugh and learn.
“Wow. You’re smooth,” I tell him when Molly finally leaves.
His face turns serious. “Had to be in my line of work.” That’s the first time Luke has said anything about his past and suddenly the mood at the table takes a sharp dip.
“So,” Conn starts, looking at me. “You’ll never believe who I saw Saturday night.”
“Who?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. “That little redhead that you’ve been trying to deny you’re dating?” Not since Nora Cantres, the redheaded beauty that Conn had a thing for in high school, have I ever seen him settle down with one woman. She broke his fucking heart our senior year when her family moved and she broke it off. I’m pretty sure he liked her more than he tried to let on and she jaded him for a future Mrs. Conn Colloway. Which is too bad, because Conn would be a great husband and father. If he’d just let himself find the right woman.
You should take your own advice, Ash.
“I’m not dating her. I fucked her. You know my rule, Ash. In and out. Anyway…” He pauses, looking at me pointedly. My senses are now flashing bat-phone red, because I know that look. I know what he’s going to say, but I have no idea how it can be as she doesn’t even live in Chicago. To my knowledge she still lives in Detroit and Conn came back to the city on Friday.
“Natalie.”
“Fucker,” I mutter under my breath. “Why do you insist on bringing her up when I continually ask you not to?”
“Because you need closure.”
I look away from Conn to Luke and Gray who are raptly watching our little exchange. I want to tell them both to fuck off. Luke has no idea who Natalie is—was—to me and the last thing I want to get into before I see my sweet Alyse for the first time in days is fucking Natalie. Her very name is associated with heart-wrenching agony. Hell, when we first moved to Chicago and I had to hire an assistant, one of the most qualified applicants was named Natalie. I burned her resume. No fucking way am I going to be surrounded day after day by someone who has a name that reminds me of the woman who blew shards of adulterer straight into the center of my heart.
I shift my gaze back to Conn. “I have all the closure I need.”
His lips thin and he shakes his head. “She said you were having an affair.”
“Are you fucking kidding me here? She’s the cheating whore.” My voice rises, causing several sets of eyes around us to turn our way, but I hardly notice. I’m only staring into the traitorous ones of my twin, who it feels an awful lot went Robert The Bruce on me. “I’m not sure how I could possibly misconstrue the fact that she had her legs spread for another man in our bed. It was pretty fucking clear.”
It was classic Natalie to try to deflect her adultery back on me. She repeatedly accused me of cheating, and I never understood it. I never gave her any reason to think that.
What Conn doesn’t know is there were definite red flags that I simply ignored, so I was far less than inclined to believe a fucking lying word that came out of her mouth. Conn doesn’t know a lot of things about Natalie. They are things I’ll never tell another soul. I lost my entire future because of that woman and her selfishness and lies. Always with the lies. I was a patsy and I’m ashamed I ever thought of making her my wife.
“She claims they never had sex. She just wants a chance to talk to you and make things right.”
Why, after all this time, does she even care what I think?
“I’m sorry, Conn, but regardless of what happened after I left, having her pussy eaten out by another man is sex. At least in my book. She was committed to me. She should never have let another man lay a finger on her. Nothing happened that she didn’t want.”
I shake my head and stand, throwing my napkin on my unfinished plate. I skirt around the table, intent on leaving before my fist lands in my brother’s face, which will fucking happen if I stay here five seconds longer, but his words stop me cold, making me fume with rage. I have to hand it to Conn. He blindsided me in a public place so he would lessen his chances of ending up with a black eye and swollen lip.
“Your reaction proves my point. You’ll never be able to give Alyse what she needs if you don’t put this behind you, Asher. What happened with Natalie keeps you bound to the past. Cut her loose, man. Move forward.”
I feel something being pushed into my hand. I look down to see a scrap of paper with a phone number on it.
“Call her. Free the chains.”
I should drop it to the floor, but Conn will just take another opportunity to sabotage me, so I shove the conniving bitch’s number in my pants pocket and leave without saying a word or looking back.
I have every intention of watching it burn later. Maybe I’ll even toast marshmallows over the roaring fire.
Chapter 10
Asher
It’s after nine before I make it to my office. I’m still fuming mad. What I would normally do is head to my office, close the door, and spend a couple of hours getting lost in work so I could rein in my temper. Instead all I can think of is tracking down Alyse and pulling her into my arms.
I emailed Tara last night, asking her to greet Alyse, get her settled in her office, and set up a meeting first thing this morning with Sheila and my director of accounting, Aaron Hinton, so she could hit the ground running. I’m sure Alyse could have busied herself, but the fact of the matter is, the sooner she gets started, the sooner we can stop this thief. I’ve already wasted so much time. In retrospect, I should have followed my gut sooner and hired her weeks ago. Not only would we be closer to finding the culprit, I’d already have her in my bed.
“Hi, Tara,” I snip.
“Uh, hi. Bad morning, Asher?”
I grunt. “Where’s Ms. Kingsley?”
“She’s down on twenty-eight with Sheila and Aaron.”
Aaron. He’s a couple of years older than me, very good-looking, and if rumors are true, he’d give Conn a run for his money in the ladies department. I’m already irrationally jealous at the thought of her talking to another man. I realize I set this whole meeting up, but that does little to calm the absurd envy I’m suddenly feeling.
She’s not Natalie, I remind myself. Fucking Conn. Now he’s all up in my head. Christ. I nee
d Alyse.
“Do you know when she’ll be back?” My voice sounds strained and Tara’s forehead creases.
“I don’t know, Asher. Would you like me to call down to Aaron’s office and ask?” She’s talking to me like she would a cornered animal. Slow and soft.
I open my mouth intending to say fuck yes, but at the last minute change to the more professional response. Alyse is here to do a job, not cater to my every whim, as much as I wish it were different. She seems to put up with the domineering side of my personality outside of work, but if I start pulling that shit here, I may just lose her before I have her. Damn if that thought terrifies me.
“No. When she returns, though, please send her to my office. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing.”
“Of course. Uh, everything okay, Asher?”
“Fucking golden,” I mutter as I turn away. I spend the next hour and a half pretending to work, when all I’m doing is watching the clock. And my closed door.
Waiting.
Fuming.
Remembering.
Finally, I give up and turn my chair toward the window, watching the contrast of white billowy clouds floating by against a blue sky that looks like crystal-clear water today. I want to think about the future, which I’m hoping is Alyse. But instead I find myself remembering the past. And the woman who ruined me.
I remember the heaviness of the ring in my pocket as I caught an early flight home.
I remember pulling into the driveway and knowing when I saw a strange car that as soon as I walked through the front door, my entire life was about to change.
I remember feeling sicker and sicker with each step I took toward my bedroom, the low moans tethered to my feet. They felt heavy, weighted, like I was wading through a swamp, the thick muck threatening to suck me under if I stayed in one position too long.
And I remember the look of pure and utter euphoria on Natalie’s face as her coworker, Rick, knelt on my bed, his face buried between her naked thighs.
But try as I might, I don’t remember much about what happened after that. I was simply numb. Without a word to either of them, I turned and left. I don’t even think they saw me. I know I ended up at Conn’s house and stayed there until I went to work on Monday. I still had clothes and toiletries from my trip, so I didn’t need to go home until I could make sure every part of her there was erased.
Natalie called me repeatedly on Sunday. I ignored her. She showed up at my office on Monday afternoon and with just one look at me, she knew she was busted. It was almost entertaining watching her try to come up with a lie on the spot. When she refused to leave, I called security. I then called a locksmith and met him at my house later that day so he could change all the locks. I had her stuff couriered to her house with a note to never contact me again.
She tried, numerous times, and after one gut-wrenching text two months later, I haven’t heard from her since.
I don’t think I can adequately explain the soul-destroying agony you go through when you find out the one person who is supposed to be your everything throws it all away for the sins of the flesh. It bruises your ego. It forces a lot of tough soul-searching. It makes you reevaluate every single aspect of your failed relationship and how you contributed to it. And it closes you off from making the same mistake again.
Conn’s words nag at me. “Free the chains.” But he’s wrong. I did free the chains when I cut her cheating ass loose. I realize we’re all human beings and we make mistakes. I’ve made my fair share, but I’m not at all tolerant when it comes to deceit and as I’ve stated before, I am not the forgive-and-forget type of guy. I will neither forgive Natalie for what she’s done, nor forget it.
I think that’s what Conn means, asshole.
The paper tucked away in my pocket feels like it’s burning my thigh. I’m just reaching in to pull it out and throw it in the trash, where it belongs, when I hear a soft knock at my door. Tara pops her head in. “Ms. Kingsley is back. Okay to send her in?”
Relief hits me like a ton of bricks. My salvation has finally arrived. I have no idea how this one woman has become so important to me in such a short period of time, but damn…she has.
And I’m done waiting to have her.
“Yes. Send her in. And, Tara.” Tara pauses, waiting for further instruction. “Make sure we’re not disturbed.”
Chapter 11
Alyse
Three seconds after I walk through Asher’s door, I’m engulfed in his arms.
Four seconds later, his lips are on mine.
Six seconds in, my back is up against the closest wall as he ravages me like he needs my kiss to breathe, to live. One strong arm bands around my waist, while the other palms my neck, holding me in position so his mouth fits perfectly to mine.
Something is wrong. Something more than the fact that he missed me. This feels like desperation. It feels like deflection and I’m the person he needs to get lost in.
“Asher,” I gasp when he breaks the kiss, feathering his lips down my neck. “What’s wrong?”
He captures my mouth again without a word. Picking me up, he walks backward until I’m seated on what I think must be his desk.
I want to pull him into me as much as I need to push him away, because this is so many shades of wrong. I can’t have sex with Asher in his office, for God’s sake. But it’s as if he’s trying to tell me something with his body that he can’t with words.
And Jesus, I can relate to that on so many levels, so I tell my goody-two-shoes bitch to back off and give in to the moment. The second I do, his kisses slow, his breathing starts to calm, and his grip loosens slightly.
Reaching up, I palm his face and take over. He lets me. I place soft kisses to the corners of his lips, his cheeks, letting my mouth travel over his clean-shaven jaw. I like the whiskers so much better.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, finally leaning back. I search his eyes and find anger and pain fighting for dominance. He pulls me to him, holding tightly.
“It is now,” he whispers against my hair. He takes several deep breaths and I wait for him to explain, but he doesn’t. I don’t know why that hurts more than it should. I don’t even know what we are to each other yet, but it’s something. That much I already know. And I want him to trust me, to feel like he can tell me anything, even though I don’t know if I can give him the same in return.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation.
“My place.”
I know exactly what that means and, remembering our wicked phone call last night, I feel my body readying itself for him. “Okay.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Okay.”
Sighing heavily, he unwraps his arms and takes a step back. The immediate loss of his body warmth is startling and chills run the length of my spine. Scrubbing his hand down his face, he walks back over to his desk chair, sitting. His erection is evident through his thin slacks and I want nothing more than to kneel down in front of him and take care of it. He watches me. As our eyes connect, I swear he knows what I am thinking.
“If I don’t stop touching you now, Alyse, I’m going to end up fucking you on my desk. That will happen, just not today.”
“Asher—”
“How was your meeting with Sheila and Aaron?”
“So it’s like that, huh?”
“Did Aaron hit on you?”
Laughing, I shake my head, hoping he takes that as a no. Aaron did, but by the tone of Asher’s voice, I am not about to reveal that little factoid. Something tells me Aaron Hinton will be escorted out by security in about six-and-a-half minutes if I say yes.
His jaw ticks and he pierces me with a hard glare, which I stubbornly return. His voice is low and gravelly when he speaks, like he swallowed broken glass. “Do you want me to fuck you on my desk, Alyse? Is that what you want?”
I didn’t, until he just challenged me. I hadn’t moved fr
om the edge of his desk where he placed me earlier, but now I stand and make my way in front of him. I sit back on the desk again so my feet dangle, spreading my legs ever so slightly. Gripping the edges, I lean forward toward him.
Today I’ve worn a simple, short black A-line dress with three-inch nude peep-toe shoes. It’s cold, but I didn’t wear tights or hose, so my legs are bare and the chilly desk gives me goose bumps.
“And if I said yes?” I have no idea what creature just took over my mind or my mouth, but at this second, I can’t even care.
Asher’s hooded, lusty eyes haven’t moved from mine. The sheer hunger I see in them slays me. He’s probably trying to gauge whether I’m serious or a tease, but God help me, I mean every single word I’m saying. I want him to fuck me. Now. I don’t want to wait another second. One week ago if you told me I’d be in a client’s office offering my body for his pleasure, I would have said enjoy your one-way free trip on the crazy train.
Now I’m afraid it’s me that’s hopped on and the train seems to have jumped the tracks.
Rolling his chair closer, a slow, devious smile curves his full lips as his hands make their way to my bare thighs. Firmly grasping them, he runs his palms up until he reaches the juncture of my aching flesh. Thumbs tease the edges of my panties, slipping slightly underneath. Teasing, but not touching where I need. A low moan escapes my throat and suddenly my head is far too heavy for my neck to support, so it falls back as my eyes drift shut.
“Eight years,” he whispers so soft it takes a minute to register.
Then his hands are on my ass, pulling me toward him. His mouth against my inner thigh startles me. It’s soft. Too soft. I want hard. I want rough. I want wild. I’m like a caged animal and if he doesn’t fuck me hard soon I think I might attack.
“Jesus, Alyse. So wet,” he rasps, dipping a finger fully inside my panties.
