by Lana Hartley
“Thanks,” I grumble and give him a tip as he pushes the cart inside the penthouse.
He thanks me for the tip and turns to leave, going back down the same hallway he came from.
I close the door behind me and bring the tray to the bedroom, gently placing it down on the bed beside the still sleeping Molly.
I’m surprised that the doorbell didn’t wake her up; she must be a heavy sleeper.
At any rate, I’m getting fucking bored as shit having to sit here by myself, and I’d rather enjoy the meal with her than without her, so I decide to kiss her to wake her from her dreamy slumber.
“Hey,” I whisper and gently rub the small of her back, right above her beautiful ass. “Wake up, baby.”
Molly stirs and sighs, but she doesn’t come out of her dozing state. I kiss her cheek, then her neck and feel her reaction by the goosebumps rising on her skin.
Molly opens her eyes and blinks while she adjusts to the light in the room. She props herself up on her elbows and looks at me in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” she says sleepily.
“Nothing’s wrong. I have dinner here for us.”
I point to the tray of delicacies from the five-star kitchen of The Avalon, which has also been featured in tons of swanky magazines for its top rated, world-renowned chefs.
“Um…” Molly chuckles and eyes the food.
“My offer to you was and still is to buy you dinner,” I explain. “I never ever break any of the promises I make.” I eye her with a cocky grin.
“I suppose you don’t,” she laughs, and shakes her head. “You’re proving your point well, sir,” she says with a smile.
“Thank you,” I say as I open the lids to the plates. “Shall we dig in?”
“Where did you get this food?” Molly scratches her head and yawns.
I fucking love how comfortable she already is around me. Most girls can never get to that point with me because I intimidate them.
I know what you’re thinking, that I’m becoming mushy and stuff loving this time with Molly. Well, I assure you it’s not true.
You try being here in my position with her sparkling eyes looking up at you with such lust and hunger even now after a night of fucking.
She’s insatiable and so am I.
“I ordered it from downstairs,” I say.
“Downstairs?” Molly repeats in apprehensive question.
“Room service.” I take the lids off the trays.
“Wow,” Molly says. “That’s quite impressive. The only thing my apartment building has is a laundry room,” she chuckles.
“I have to pay extra for this feature,” I admit. “It’s worth it, though. I spare no expense for convenience and luxury.”
“I can see that.” Molly nods in agreement, a slight smile on her lips.
She wraps a blanket from the bed around her body and sits on the bed.
See? I can be a gentleman if I really put my mind to it.
I hand her a plate of filet mignon with a side of cranberry salad and white truffle cakes for dessert.
I offer her a glass of wine and she takes it gratefully.
“That’s a rare vintage,” I say, tucking into my steak.
She eats and I watch her.
She drinks and I watch her.
I want to know everything there is to know about this woman who’s entered my life so hastily.
“You know, I’m kind of a wine aficionado,” I say trying to impress her.
Something about this moment makes me feel as though I can’t live without her, despite all my bragging and thinking it is what it is.
“Yeah? Why does that not surprise me, Owen Wolfe?” she says with a smile.
Hearing my name on her lips makes me want more.
I imagine the way she was begging for me. And I imagine that happening every night of my damn life.
But this is not who I am.
I’m above this sort of thing.
And I’m not going to say what you’re all thinking. This isn’t love. For one thing, love doesn’t happen so quickly. It grows on you, right? And for another, just because I’m feeling high from the nectar of her sweet pussy does not mean a damn thing.
I decide to get to the truth of the matter. I would love to know what really brought Molly to my doorstep, to my foyer in lingerie.
I close my eyes for a sec to just remember that fucking moment when she did that and blew me away with her brazenness and when she looked so hot.
Fuck, what a sight.
“So, what suddenly changed your mind?” I ask.
I examine her as she sips the pinot thoughtfully.
“Change my mind about what?” she says as if she doesn’t know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.
Something tells me Molly guards her body pretty tightly. I don’t see her giving it up to just anyone. She has fucking standards and that makes my cock harden just to think of it.
She chose me after all. And now I want to know why, besides my obvious charm and ambition and twelve-inch cock.
I digress.
“You know, what was the selling point that made you to call me after all and take me up on my offer?”
“You want to know why I’m interested in you?” Molly laughs.
“Now I feel like you’re trying to avoid answering the question,” I tease and raise an eyebrow at her.
“No, it’s not like that at all.” Molly shakes her head in denial, then shrugs. “I wanted to take a risk.”
I smile. “I guess you’re telling me that I’m that risk?’
“Right.” Molly winks at me and sips her wine. “This food is fucking delicious, by the way,” she says, changing the subject.
I see exactly what she’s doing. She’s transparent as ever to me, and to me alone.
“What?” she asks shyly. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Nothing,” I say. “It’s just…well, you’re ridiculously beautiful. Like how is it even fair to the other women out there?”
Molly rolls her eyes. “What a line!”
“It’s not!” I say defensively. “You are gorgeous, and you need to be told often.”
“Okay,” she grins. “I don’t mind a compliment.”
“So, I’m going to ask the million-dollar question,” I begin.
“What?”
Molly places her fork gently on her plate and wraps the blankets tighter around her waist. I know she’s about to let herself be vulnerable.
“Why the fuck are you still single?”
Molly doesn’t answer right away. She looks up at the ceiling, then back at me.
“I ask myself the very same question all the time,” she chuckles. “Not all men can handle me. I guess that’s part of the problem.”
“What do you mean?” I shake my head.
“You know…because of the fact that I’m a business-oriented woman and all…” She trails off and cuts into her steak again.
“You’re all business in the bed, that’s for sure.” I wink at her.
“Is everything all sex all the time with you?” She teases with a grin on her face.
“Yeah, pretty much.” I opt for honesty here.
“It was pretty great,” she says and gazes dreamily into space as if she’s recounting it in her head.
“So, am I worth the risk?” I toss her a playful yet mischievous smile.
“So far, so good,” she responds and bites her bottom lip.
We lock eyes, and my heart flips. Fuck, she’s a showstopper for sure.
And I’m getting in deeper by the second.
Chapter 11
Molly
His abs ripple and glisten in the low-level lighting.
I lick my lips absentmindedly despite my best intentions to hold back.
I’ve just tasted this man, felt him inside me, and fuck was it great.
It’s like he gets me on this unspoken level, which we both understand. It’s intense and real and everything I’ve been lookin
g for. But I really shouldn’t. Right? I mean I came here with an intention in mind, to be wild and free, not to get into something serious.
Besides, Owen’s a playboy and I need to not forget that.
He stands up and saunters over to his gorgeous chef’s kitchen where he grabs another bottle of wine.
“I know you’ll have one more glass with me,” he says and I find myself unable to refuse.
For some strange reason I can’t say no to him, no matter how hard my brain screams at me to stop what I’m doing, get in my car, and drive straight home.
“Yes,” I respond, and my brain forces me to nod.
I can’t do this. I should get out of here. It’s a bad idea.
“I have a question for you now,” I say as he pours more pinot into my glass.
“Okay, what is it?” He grins at me with a sparkle in his eyes.
“Why did you come to my office to meet with me this morning? I mean up until then, we were total strangers.”
I can’t help but allow my curiosity to get the better of me in this situation, but I want answers dammit.
“Honestly?” He places the wine bottle on the table and grins.
“Yeah, duh,” I tease.
“Well,” he sits across from me, “I saw you in that magazine. Do you know which one I’m talking about? You know…the one with the article on the ten most successful women under thirty years of age?”
I nod, understanding now. “Yes, right I forgot I did that feature,” I shake my head and face palm myself.
“You’re incredible,” he admits.
“I’m glad you can know everything about me by reading a single article,” I joke.
“Hey now, we are getting to know each other, aren’t we?” Owen grins and holds his arms up defensively.
“I guess.” I shrug and smile, looking at the floor. “I like your hardwoods.”
“Did you just say you like my hard wood?” He laughs.
“I mean the floors, asshole!” I roar with laughter and point to the beautiful Brazilian wood in Owen’s kitchen.
“So, is that a no on my other hard wood?” he asks, laughing at his own stupid sexual innuendo quips.
I feel myself blush. “That wood is pretty fucking fantastic, too.”
“Just what I want to hear.” Owen winks, clicking his tongue and pointing at me.
“You sure know how to reel them in, don’t you?” I drone sarcastically, but I’m playful, meaning it all in good fun.
“Absolutely,” he says, full of cocky arrogance.
“Well, I’m glad somebody respects my success as a younger female in the business world,” I say, and sigh dramatically, feeling sorry for myself.
“My father thinks I’m a fucking joke.” I roll my eyes and take in a huge sip of wine feeling like I need it at the mention of my father.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. “Parents are the fucking worst sometimes.”
“Thank you!” I shout and slap my knee. “Finally, someone else understands the struggle.”
‘It’s real.” He winks at me.
I rub my arms, keeping the blanket wrapped around my naked body underneath.
Owen notices and apparently decides to continue his chivalric streak. “Would you like to borrow one of my sweatshirts? It’s oversized, so it will probably cover you all the way up.”
I smile at him. “Thank you, yes, that would be great.”
Owen retrieves it and brings it back for me, and I pull it over my head.
“It’s cozy,” I confess, swimming in the bulk of his sweater.
“Great,” he says and gestures to the couch in his master bedroom. “Come sit with me?” His eyes are full of mischief.
“That depends,” I say with a teasing grin. “Is the wine invited?”
“Of course.”
“Then okay, sure,” I say.
“So, what is this business with your dad?” Owen questions me.
“He’s a fucking jerk that’s what.”
“Why?” Owen’s face etches concern.
I look around the room, avoiding Owen’s eyes. I don’t want to get into this, not with him.
“He doesn’t take me seriously,” I confess. “It’s like he ignores me completely and gives everything to my fucking loser older brother.”
I’m bitter, and I know that Owen’s getting a first taste at how moody I can be about this sensitive situation. It’s not a good look.
“Is your dad the owner of a business?” he asks.
“Yep,” I nod. “He’s in the ‘entertainment’ industry,” I say with air quotes. “Ever heard of Quinn Industries?”
“Yes,” Owen admits, and he looks a little serious for a fleeting second.
“I don’t usually talk about my problems with my father to anyone,” I confess.
“Thank you for venting to me,” he says. “I appreciate that. You trust me.”
Trust? Do I trust this man already?
I’m getting in deeper by the second.
“You’re surprisingly easy to talk to.” I glance up at him and smile.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, but I’m guessing given my track record with women, it probably could be construed either way,” he laughs.
“You seem like a nice guy,” I admit with a shrug. “So, what about you?”
I face him on the couch and lean my arm against the back, holding my wine glass in the other hand.
I know I look fuckable in his sweatshirt. I feel fuckable and ready for more.
“What about me?” Owen fidgets.
“What’s your family like? On a scale of one to ten. Ten being totally batshit crazy and one being loving and normal,” I say playfully, eager to learn more about him.
“Maybe somewhere in the middle,” Owen chuckles, and for the first time ever, I can read a slight apprehensive energy expelling from him.
“So, you can relate to me?” I ask.
Owen shrugs. “Kind of, I guess. I am considered the black sheep of my family, there’s no denying that. But I fucking like it that way.”
“Join the club,” I say in a joking tone, but he just gives me a half smile.
“My parents don’t approve of either my lifestyle or my chosen profession,” Owen says bitterly.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say in shock. “You’re totally successful, and I’ve seen like…every one of your movies.”
I feel giddy and comfortable with him, and my playfulness is rising, thanks to the alcohol currently taking the lazy river stroll through my veins right now.
“Apparently, that’s not good enough for Martha and Joshua Wolfe,” he states sarcastically.
“Well, what the fuck makes them so special?” I ask.
“They’re doctors.” Owen rolls his eyes.
“They wanted you to be a doctor, too?” I guess.
“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.” Owen points to me and uses a game show host voice.
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. At least we can relate to each other as we drink ourselves to oblivion, thinking about our failures to our parents.
Owen looks at me with crystal clear genuine affection. “You’re fucking cute,” he says and grins.
“You aren’t bad to look at either,” I joke.
“I don’t usually have this much fun,” Owen admits.
“You mean with another girl or with life in general?” I tease.
“Maybe a little bit of both.” He smiles.
“I’ll drink to that,” I say and guzzle down the remainder of the wine in my glass.
All my reservations and intuition regarding decent life choices are cast to the wind and all but forgotten on this lovely night with Owen.
I don’t even fucking care right now. I’m embracing my inner wild child and taking risks, just like my sullen father tells me to do.
I’ll show him.
Chapter 12
Owen
My shredded muscles are on display by my ripped, grey t-shirt.
It takes a lot of gym time to maintain this physique.
But it’s worth every goddamn second for the way people are looking at me now as I enter the gym.
“Are you ready to blow off some steam, dude?” I grin at Victor as we walk into the gym together.
“I’m gonna knock you the fuck out!” he shouts, getting pumped up.
“You fucking wish.” I shake my head and look at Victor, my awesome best friend with Latin roots and the flare of one to boot.
“I’m going to take you down one day,” he laughs.
We walk over to the boxing ring. It’s an exclusive ring, like everything else in my life. I pay extra for privacy and luxury.
Victor and I come here to unwind after a stressful day at work. You may say it’s just two guys trying to be tough and macho to prove which of us is the stronger man….and you’re probably right to some extent.
But it’s more than that. I come here to funnel all the testosterone and aggression I feel. It has to go somewhere and hitting Victor just feels so fucking good.
I’m not afraid to fight for what I want, whether physically or emotionally, and the sooner everyone in my life realizes that fact, the easier it will be for all involved.
“So, when I went to your meeting yesterday, everything went well,” Victor says as he straps on his gloves.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask and gear up by jumping up and down.
“I think you should consider making the story from the pitch,” Victor says. “The company is receiving it well.”
“I’ll explore that option. Thanks, brother,” I say to him and take a few practice swings at the air before Victor joins me and we begin the punches.
Boxing is a great form of exercise, and it cuts into the monotony of the boring, average workouts.
Victor changes the subject. “So how did it go with the prick?”
I chuckle. “The prick?”
“You know, that health inspector guy you jizzed all over at Expose?” Victor teases.
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “It didn’t go…exactly as I planned.”
Victor throws a punch. “Are you telling me that Mr. Wolfe isn’t getting his way for once?”
“Let’s not go that far.” I punch back. “I’m still brainstorming ideas to get back into the club.”
“What did the asshole tell you?”
