by Lila Kane
“Okay, listen. I fucked up,” I tell her. “I was caught off guard and I got upset.”
She nods, though her face is devoid of emotion. “I understand. And I thought about it from your point of view, too. This was a weird arrangement from the beginning and something was bound to go wrong. I…” She gestures to the counter in the kitchen. “It’s all in the note.”
“I don’t want to read a fucking note,” I hiss. When her eyes narrow, I hold up my hands. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself. Please, just…don’t go. Let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
I grit my teeth against saying something I’ll regret. Like how she’s being stubborn. I guess, in all reality, I was a little stubborn last night, too. But we’d just gotten the whole ruse together and to have it threatened that quickly shocked me. Handling work matters is one thing but relationship stuff—my new image—is an entirely new beast.
“I want this to work.”
She hugs the box to her chest, closing herself off even more. “I understand. I did, too, but it’s complicated.”
“Which is why we have a contract.”
“Contracts don’t take feelings out of it.”
When she’s almost got me convinced this is easy for her—easy to walk out—I see it. That flicker of hurt in her eyes. She’s scared. She’s afraid of being hurt again, and I’m not doing a good job of showing her it won’t happen. After all, I shut her out last night when she’d been the most vulnerable.
“We’re supposed to be in this together,” I say, “and I fucked it up last night. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She nods her chin to the elevator. “I’m going to go.”
I step in her path. “Not yet.”
“Michael.”
“Give me five minutes.”
She sighs. “Why? I could probably walk out to the street right now and find a hundred women who’d die to be in my position. Why not one of them?”
“Because I want you.”
And it’s 100% true. I don’t want some woman off the street. I want Brianna. “Contract or not,” I say, stepping up to her, “we have something here. I want to explore that.”
When she doesn’t respond, I take the box from her arms and set it aside.
“Five minutes,” I say.
She licks her lips, and it kills me not to drag her into my arms and kiss her. I know it won’t fix the situation. I wish it would. I want it to be easier. I don’t do relationships and partnerships. But I have to learn if I want this to work.
“Let’s sit,” I suggest, taking her hand.
She doesn’t pull away, only follows me silently to the couch and sits next to me. Then she pulls her hand away and crosses her arms. “Five minutes.”
Damn, she really is pissed off. Okay, lesson learned.
“That was our first fight,” I say. “It sucked.”
She snorts softly. “Tell me about it.”
“Listen, I’m learning, okay? I wasn’t equipped to handle last night because I’m used to things going my way. When I’m in control of things and I fuck up, there’s no one to blame but myself—so I try not to fuck up. But it’s not just me in this anymore.”
“And you’re saying I fucked up?”
“No. Shit. That’s not what I meant. I meant, I’m not in control of it all, so when I don’t get my way, it’s easy to look outside myself and place the blame there. Sometimes things just happen.”
“I didn’t tell anyone else about our agreement. And Deb wouldn’t have blabbed either.”
“Whether she did or not, I should have handled it different—not gotten mad at you. But you’re right about Deb. It wasn’t her, it was Chet.”
She straightens, eyes conflicted. “What? How do you know?”
“It wasn’t hard to get information from the reporter.”
“But…” She taps her fingers against her lips, thinking. “He walked out. I mean, he didn’t even tell me in person. He texted me because he wanted that badly to be out of our engagement. And be with someone else. So why does he even care?”
I grit my teeth. I have a couple of ideas—none of which I want to share with her. Chet is out of her life. He’s given her up and she’s mine now. I’ll deal with Chet on my own. Right now, I just want her to know I’m here for her. I want her to focus on us.
“He’s being a dick,” I say, reaching for her hand. She entwines her fingers with mine—a good sign. “He probably just wants the recognition. We won’t give it to him. I’m sorry.”
She looks up, studies my face like she’s trying to decide if I’m being sincere or not. “I forgive you.”
“You do?”
She pulls in a deep breath. “Please don’t make me regret this, Michael. In fact…”
My gut clenches. “What?”
“Maybe we should just…keep this professional the rest of the time. That way this doesn’t happen again—”
“It’s not going to happen again,” I growl, gripping her hips and pulling her onto my lap.
Her eyes widen, and she steadies herself on my shoulders. “Michael.”
“Don’t say it like that—like you think I’m going to let you down. We were doing fine before, and we’re fine now, right?”
“I guess.”
I grip her chin and kiss her, coaxing her lips open with my tongue. “If we didn’t fight at least once, there’d be something wrong, right?”
“That’s true.”
I don’t add that the best thing about fighting is making up. I wouldn’t know. But it seems true. All I want to do right now is pick up where we left off last night. But damn it, it doesn’t seem right. Things are sticky right now. I’d rather take my time and get Brianna back to the same mindset she had last night than risk getting kicked in the balls.
I wouldn’t put it past her either. Brianna can be feisty.
I touch her cheek. “Can we throw away that letter now?”
She glances to the counter where it still rests. “Yes.”
I kiss her again. “Good.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brianna
I don’t feel wounded. Chet left a hole in my heart, but this…fight with Michael doesn’t make me feel like I did with Chet.
Does that mean I’m just a glutton for punishment? Am I too trusting?
I sit at the dumpy bar I met Michael at, waiting for Deb so she can answer all these questions for me. Deb knows me better than anyone. I trust her judgment.
I gaze to the table I remember Michael sitting at that night we ran into each other. I wish he was here right now—which sounds ridiculous. I see him every day. But part of me is getting used to being around him.
Pulling out my phone, I keep my eye on the entrance so I can direct Deb to my table. I write up a quick text for Michael.
Should have told you I won’t be home until later. I’m meeting with Deb.
I realize, since I’m supposed to be part of a couple and I want Michael to be forthcoming, I’d better do the same thing with him.
Instead of texting, he calls. “Brianna.”
His deep voice sends chills down my body.
“Hi,” I say, trying not to sound breathless.
“I wish you would have told me you were going to be gone.”
“I’m sorry—I’m not used to having to report into someone.”
I hear the chuckle in his voice. “Feisty. I just want to make sure you’re safe. I would have sent security with you—keep the photographers and reporters away from you.”
“Oh.” I soften. “I think I’m fine here.”
“Where are you?”
“The bar where we met.”
“Ah…Good memories.”
“I know.”
He lets out a soft growl. “Damn it, I wish I was there with you right now.”
I squirm in my seat, his voice doing things to me no man’s voice has ever done before. “I’l
l be home later.”
“Not soon enough.”
God, he’s making me throb in all the right places. I spot Deb walking through the door and struggle to control myself. “Deb’s here.”
“Shit.”
I laugh at the huskiness I hear in his voice. The need. “I have to go.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“Deal.”
When I hang up, part of me wishes I would have invited him. Or told him I’d be home sooner. I want to see him so bad I can hardly stand it.
I’ll leave early. That’s what I’ll do. Surprise him at work.
Deb slides into the booth across from me. She releases a long sigh. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not. I’m early. I needed to get out.”
“He’s keeping you locked up in the penthouse dungeon?”
I laugh. “No. I’m just used to being out more. Working.”
“Yeah. I’d probably lose my mind if I worked at home. I still can’t believe Bruce fired you—or whatever. What an asshat. You could sue him, you know.”
She sounds like Michael. More upset than I was—because it’s actually a blessing in disguise. I get to work on my career—and it’s the best time to do it. When I have financial security.
“It’s not worth it. I’m doing what I want to do anyway.”
She orders a drink and then angles her head at me. “Are you really?”
“Am I really what?”
“Doing what you want to do?”
I take a moment to really think about it. Deb will be able to tell if I’m lying. “I am. I’m doing what I want to do. I feel…this freedom I never had before.”
Deb laughs. “Financial freedom.” When I flip her off, she shakes her head. “You know I’m joking. You deserve this. To take a break from all that shit—from Chet—and do what you love.”
“Thank you.”
“How’s the man? Michael? You guys ever even see each other or do you just keep to your side of the apartment?”
This question makes me squirm. We are definitely not keeping to our side of the apartment. We’re barely keeping our hands to ourselves.
“No. We…talk.”
Deb’s eyes widen. “You do realize how you just said that, right?”
I sip my drink and shrug like I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Talk? Talk? Is that code for something? A metaphor?”
“For what?”
She grins. “You know. Getting very friendly. I mean, he’s hot. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“I don’t—”
“Think he’s hot? Because you agreed the first night we saw him. He’s treating you well, isn’t he?” Her face goes serious in an instant. “Because if he isn’t I’ll kick his ass. I swear, I’ll—”
“No. No, he’s treating me fine. And yeah, he’s hot. He’s…”
Her eyes grow large again. “OMG. You’re totally fucking him!”
“Shh—Deb! No, I’m not.”
“But you want to be.”
God, yes. “No comment.”
“Hell, live a little. If he’s not a dick and this whole arrangement is working for you, then go for it. Charm the one-eyed snake.”
I groan. “God, Deb. You have such a way with words.”
“There’s more where that came from.”
We joke our way through a few more drinks, but I’ve already made up my mind. I have Deb’s blessing to live a little. And more, I can’t seem to stop myself. I want Michael, and I plan on getting him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I ride the elevator to the top floor of Michael’s office building, using the time to touch up my makeup and run my fingers through my hair one more time. I undo the top button of my blouse as well, all the while feeling my heartbeat pick up.
By the time I get out of the elevator, I have myself worked up. Nervous, but ready to take charge.
Michael’s secretary sees me and smiles. “Miss Stevens.”
“Hi. I’m…” I point to the office. “I’m here to see Michael.”
“Oh. He left thirty minutes ago—said he was going to surprise you.”
I blink, and then laugh. “Of course.”
“You’re here to surprise him, I take it?”
I nod, leaning against the desk. “Looks like I’d better head back home.”
My phone rings and I pull it from my purse. My stomach clenches in anticipation when I see Michael’s name on the screen. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” he asks, voice low.
“At your office. Where are you?”
“Home. Damn it.”
“I’ll come back.”
“Don’t you dare move. Go into my office and stay there.”
My clit throbs with his words. “Okay.”
He hangs up, and my cheeks heat. I hope Ms. Brown didn’t hear what he said. She smiles like she knows a secret, but doesn’t say anything.
I point to the office again. “I’m going to wait in here.”
I hurry into the office, trying to ignore the throbbing between my legs. I guess Michael had the same idea as me.
To distract myself, I walk around his office. The view is spectacular, and the office is bigger than my entire apartment. My old apartment.
I don’t miss it at all. In fact, I’m pretty settled in Michael’s place. It feels like home. It worries me how fast it happened. How easily I’m sinking into this new life.
More worry starts to seep in, making me think less of who’s on the way and more of what I’m doing. Where this is taking me. If Michael and I get intimate, it’ll change things. We’ll be putting ourselves in a different position. We’ll be a couple—and not just on paper.
By the time ten minutes passes, I’ve convinced myself what a terrible idea this is. Taking this step with Michael is a risk. I already took risks with Chet, and look where that got me.
Pulling my purse over my shoulder, I walk to the door. Meeting Michael here is a terrible idea. I reach for the handle, pull it open, and gasp.
“Michael!”
His eyes are hot, tracing my face, then the length of my body before rising to meet mine again. “Where are you going?”
“Uh…” My throat dries. “I was thinking, maybe…”
He steps inside the office and closes the door before I can protest. “Thinking? That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
It is a good thing. Or it was until I saw him. Now, all the thoughts have left my head because he looks so hot. He’s wearing dark jeans that sit low on his hips and a button-up dress shirt that’s loose a few buttons on top. His hair is mussed like he’s run his fingers through it a few dozen times, and his eyes won’t leave mine.
He’s making me want him all over again just after I talked some sense into myself.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I say, backing up. My legs hit the edge of his desk, and I realize I’ve been taking steps backward this whole time, while he’s been stalking toward me.
“What’s not a good idea?”
I point between us. “Uh…you know…”
“I don’t know. Right now, all I can do is feel. All I can do is see something I want, and go for it. That’s why I’m here.” He gives a grin that’s almost animalistic. “And I think that’s why you’re here, too.”
It is. It was. But now…
“The truth, Brianna,” he says. “That’s why you’re here, right?”
The throbbing between my legs is back, and this time I can’t make it go away with rational thoughts. Not with Michael standing in front of me looking like that.
I swallow and nod, giving in. “Yes. That’s why I’m here.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Michael
I ’m not letting her escape this time. I’d shut off my phone so there aren’t any interruptions, and sent Ms. Brown home. It’s just us, here in my office, and I’m not letting Brianna go.
She stops at the edge
of the desk, unable to go any further. Her eyes smolder with need but she’s hesitating. I don’t want to push her. I want her to want me as much as I want her. I need it.
“You can trust me. We might fight but we’re in this together, right?” I ask.
Something flickers in her gaze. Understanding? Whatever it is, it’s that push she needed. That comfort that makes her believe there can be something between us.
She steps away from the desk and reaches for me. My composure breaks. I yank her into my arms, rough enough she gasps. Her body hits mine, soft and hard at the same time. Yielding. Hungry.
“Michael—”
“Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.”
I needed to hear those words, though there’s no doubt what she wants right now. Her hands are frantic, grasping at my neck to pull me in for a kiss. I nip her lip, then ease back, smiling when she whimpers and tries to pull me to her again.
“I need to take my time with this,” I say.
Her eyes are cloudy with desire. They focus on mine. “I can be…a very impatient woman.”
I grasp her wrists, clasping them together with one hand. “I’ll just have to show you how patient you can be, then.”
Her body quakes against mine. I understand her impatience. All I want right now is to plunge into her heat, feel how wet she is, and then thrust in and out of her until I’m blind with ecstasy. But then I’ll miss everything leading up to it. The feel of her breasts pressed against my bare chest. Her sharp gasp when I make her come. The spread of her legs as she welcomes me to her.
With my free hand, I undo the button on her jeans and draw down the zipper.
She kisses my jaw and her breath touches my cheek when she says, “I’m not feeling patient.”
I slip my hand inside her pants. “Better?”
“It’s—oh, God…” Her voice trails off as I reach her sweet spot.
Her slit is wet, leaking onto her panties, and I slide my fingers all the way down before curving one inside of her heat. She moans. The sound makes me rock hard. My dick strains against the zipper of my jeans, longing to be set free.
I release her wrists and she pounces immediately. Her mouth locks on mine and her fingers fumble with the button of my jeans. I remove my hand from her pants and pull off her shirt. We race each other, jerking and pulling at material and buttons, taking off items until we’re both in our underwear.
