by Amanda Rayne
“Don’t touch me!” I shouted, my voice still trembled and the room temperature seemed to have dropped. Goosebumps formed over my hard.
“Ella,” Aiden entreated in a low voice. “Look at me.” Usually I responded easily, automatic. But I couldn’t, there was a disconnect. My eyes remained on the floor, I wrapped my arms around me trying to warm myself and stop the trembling.
“Ella, look at me. Now.” I lifted them to meet his. They were soft; gentle but not enough to put me at ease. I tightened my hold around myself.
He looked over his shoulder at Kieran, “Please leave.”
Once his friend left, Aiden stepped closer. I shuffled back several feet. My body trembling out of control and my mouth felt too dry to speak. I felt stupid. This wasn’t what I wanted. To be someone’s fuck toy. Three ways and ménage a trois weren’t for me. Too many emotions boiled inside of me I didn’t know how to control them. I wanted to lash out. And I did.
“Is this why Elizabeth left you because you try to share with your friends?” My voice hard, cutting.
He stood up taller and the silence stretched from just seconds to minutes as he studied me with his head tilted to the side, a slight crook in his lips. “She was my wife. You’re not.” He responded in a low even voice.
I just wanted to leave and be done with this night and not think about it again. “I want to go home.”
Aiden stepped closer. When I tried to step out of reach he slipped his arm around my waist. “Stop. What’s wrong?”
Was he serious with this question?
His amber eyes held my gaze with an intensity that made it difficult to look away from him. He frowned when I didn’t immediately answer.
“I’m not some fucktoy that you can just loan out to your friends.” I said untangling from his hold and taking several steps back. His touch seemed to have power over me and I didn’t want to submit to him so easily.
“Fucktoy?” he asked stepping closer. I backed away keeping the distance I needed from him. His voice dropped to a low whisper. “I’ve never called you that.”
He hadn’t. “But that’s what I am, isn’t it? This isn’t me. All of this,” I waved my hand around the room and then I between the two of us. “I don’t fuck strangers. Rules. Dealing with someone who limits what I get to know of him and treat me like I’m just a body.”
“Knowing me. What does that change? We agreed to this. You agreed to this.” He’d gathered the space that I’d made between us quickly. I hugged my arm around me. “You get to know me, then what happens?” he asked, his voice low, but rough. “If I’m broken, do you want to fix me? Did you envision this would turn into something more? Ella, look at me?”
I lifted my eyes from the floor to look at him. He was probably broken beyond repair and he was okay with it. He had his rules and I was the one that broke it. It was supposed to be nothing more than seven days. It turned to fourteen days and I expected more—he hadn’t. Whether he referred to me as his “fucktoy” or whatever. I was just the flavor of the week, month or quarter. I was fun, pleasure and sex and nothing more. It wasn’t what I wanted.
Feeling the overwhelming rush of emotions, I clenched my jaw but that wasn’t enough. I wasn’t going to be able to control myself much longer. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Foolishness. They all felt torrent and unrestrained.
“I want to go home.”
“No.” He said firmly. “Not while you are like this.” I tried to read his expression but it was indecipherable.
I knew I wasn’t going to calm down around him. He was the source of it. I doubt anything could be said to make this better.
“These are your rules. I’m following your stupid, fucking rules. You said it was about pleasure. Fine. It’s no longer pleasurable being here or with you. I want to go home.”
With a stolid look, he nodded, turned and headed out the door. He stopped at the threshold. “Bane will be here soon to take you home. Bye, Ella. I enjoyed my time with you.”
On the drive home I brushed the tears away that managed to escape. I had no idea why I was crying it was absolutely ridiculous. Maybe it was from frustration, anger, or just disappointment in my own stupidity. What did I expect to prove doing this? This wasn’t me and it never was. I traded one problem for another.
No matter how I tried, I couldn’t assuage the hurt that I felt about Aiden letting me leave without so much as a goodbye. Bane came and got my things and took them to the car. And I waited in the living room for a few minutes for Aiden to come out of his office. He didn’t. Instead he stood in front of the large window looking over the city, and gave me a simple glance over the shoulder, dismissing me as though I’d never existed.
Bane attempted to help me carry my things to my apartment but I refused. My face probably looked a mess. I could feel the warmth of my face as well as the tears that I wasn’t able to blink back. And I can imagine that I had raccoon eyes as well for my mascara running. I just wanted to get away from everything that reminded me of Aiden, including Bane, as soon as I could. I rushed into the apartment with my bags and closed the door behind me, sliding to the floor as flashes of the night continued each time I closed my eyes. Aiden’s cool look of disappointment overshadowed everything. Why the hell should I care?
When I finally stood, I headed for my bedroom leaving trails of clothes as I made my way to my bed, tossing my phone on the nightstand. I plopped onto it face down and forced my mind to go blank and not recount the events of the night.
The text notification woke me up. I looked at the clock, I’d been asleep for two hours. Call me. Aiden.
I stared at the message and the seconds eventually became minutes before I could respond. No. Ella.
Once I turned my phone off, I dropped my face back onto the bed.
CHAPTER 9
The moment I heard Jules voice on the other line, the butterflies fluttered in my stomach. She said to take three weeks. I hadn’t been gone for two. But I needed something to do, Aiden was supposed to be a distraction, but he ended being something else I needed to keep out of my mind. It had been two days since the incident and I was having a hard time getting him off my mind. Reading, I thought of him. Museums, I thought of the gallery opening with Kieran and the night that took place afterward. Exercising, even while the music blared in my ears, I thought about his command over my body. The sensual way he touched me. And his mouth on mine. When I panted while running, I thought of me writhing under his touch, craving his touch, as he ignited a desire in me that overwhelmed and devoured everything. Aiden had replaced Jason as someone I needed to be distracted from.
“Hello, this is Jules,” her voice as usual was soft, cheerful and bright. I could envision her wide gentle smile.
“Hi, I’m ready to come back.” I tried to make my voice mimic hers in its cheerfulness. But I could feel the weight in it. The dreariness that made my tone sound severe and dull.
I’m not sure what I expected as a response but the extended silence wasn’t it. It persisted for a few more minutes and when she finally spoke, her voice was thin and even. “Ella, are you sure?”
“Yes.” I put more confidence in my voice than I actually felt. I was confident I needed to work, but I wasn’t totally me. For the first time I came up with the realization, I hadn’t been me for some time. Consumed by Jason and his career, his needs and desires overshadowed mine.
“Ella, I’m saying this not as your boss but as a person who watched you spiral into someone I probably wouldn’t have hired let alone kept as an employee. I like you and I want you to work here as long as you would like to. But old Ella. I’m not convinced you’ve had enough time. I can’t afford to have the person you had become to be on my staff. Take the three weeks. Okay?”
I started to say something, but she interrupted, “—It’s not up for discussion. This isn’t to be cruel but I have to make a business decision. And on a personal level, I like you and don’t want to be the one to fire you. But if you aren’t back to yourself, then I will.
Can you honestly say you are ready to come back to work?”
I assumed she took the long silence and a tacit denial. Because when she spoke, her voice was genteel. “Go on a mini vacation: D.C, Savannah, New York—somewhere. I’ll see you in ten days.” And then she hung up.
She was right. I needed to go somewhere. I opened my computer and did a search for last minute getaways. As the prices came up, it dampened my mood. The places I wanted to go were still out of my budget. I considered asking my parents for the money or even putting it on my card. Growing up with a father who worked in finance, using my credit card was always my last option. Every time I used one I did a quick calculation of how long it would take me to pay it off including interest.
Fresh air, endorphins, and exercise, that’s exactly what I thought I needed as I slipped on my running shoes and decided to go for another jog for the second time that day. I needed to clear my head and figure things out. Fresh air, brushing against my face. The invigorating scent of oak and flowers scented the air. I ran and before I realized it, Aiden wasn’t on my mind. The Smithsonian was my focus. And I ran until my legs ached and I was too high no endorphins to care about debt, finance charges, or even my dwindling savings account. Worst case scenario I’d sell the dresses Aiden had given me. They would definitely pay for any trip I decided to go on. That quick moment of thinking about him, was followed by my thoughts being overwhelmed by images of him. I pushed them aside and added another two miles to my jog. When I’d finally gotten back to my apartment, I was tired, drenched in sweat and on a runner’s high. Tomorrow I would feel the results of my ten miles but today, it was what I needed.
I sped up when I saw the silver Porsche parked in front of my apartment.
“Ella,” Aiden’s silky deep voice called my name. It was hard to ignore although I doubt I would have. I stopped and turned around to face him.
“Can we talk?”
“About what?” I asked feeling drab next to him. Dressed in a hunter green shirt that complemented his amber eyes and dark jeans.
His jaw tightened. “Not out here. Inside.”
I waited before I answered considering it for longer than intended. Finally, I opened the door, and held it open for him. “I need to take a shower. You can have a seat. “
I could have taken a quick shower, but I didn’t. I stayed in there for nearly twenty minutes trying to figure out what to do. After long moments of contemplation I decided Aiden was the last thing I needed and that is exactly what I planned to tell him. This was about pleasure for him, and he knew how to separate and follow the rules—I didn’t. At the end of two weeks I would have just been one of his fucktoys or someone else he shared with his best friend.
I wasn’t that person.
Hair still wet, I quickly blow-dried it and then put it in a ponytail. Slipped on a black T-shirt and jeans. Aiden stood and approached me as soon as I entered the room. Face-to-face, he leaned down and kissed me lightly on the cheek. The moment he did, I took several steps back. I needed space from him.
“Ella, why did you really say ‘no’?”
Closing the distance I’d placed between us, he asked me again as warm breath nipped at my skin. I inhaled him, the scent of his cologne inundated my senses.
He was distracting me. He always distracted me.
“Is that what I am to you? Someone you fuck and share with your friends?”
He gave me a long assessing look until he met my eyes which he held. “What is sex to you, Ella?” I love the way he pronounced my name. The languid way each letter lingered on his tongue. It was a deep and sultry purr. I desired him like I’d never desired any man before and I knew it wasn’t a good thing.
“What do you mean?”
“Sex. What does it mean to you? Because it is just that—sex. It speaks to a need on a primal level. It is what we are, what we desire, what drives most of the impulses that we have. But you allowed yourself to be restricted and you don’t have to be that way with me.” He stepped closer, his fingers tracing along my jaw, slow movements until he came to my lips. He pressed his fingers against them. My tongue slipped out, lightly touching, lightly grazing his fingers, tasting him.” Once again he was invading my space. I closed my eyes feeling with heat of his lips over my skin, wanting to taste his lips on mine. He didn’t let me wait long. He kissed me, a deep and commanding kiss.
“I don’t want to be shared. That’s not for me.”
He nodded. “Okay. Then tell me, what do you like? Because I watched you in the car with Bane watching. You were wild, uninhibited and you came harder than you’d ever had. Do you like to be watched?”
“I don’t like to be anything,” I said pulling away from him and putting several feet between us. Washing my hands over my face, I finally admitted. “With you I don’t have the same boundaries. I feel—” I struggled to find the words.
“Uninhibited,” he offered.
I nodded.
He regarded me for a few moments, eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s wrong with that?”
A lot, but I didn’t know why. It just felt wrong. Things were complicated; yet he kept trying to make it simplistic: sex, pleasure, casual. That’s it. I wasn’t sure if I could do it.
He backed into the armless decorative chair in the corner of the room and dropped into it. His hand casually clasped behind his head, honey flooded his eyes as they fastened on me. “Come here,” he said.
I didn’t move. He waited for a few minutes, his voice cooler, more stern. “Ella, come here.”
I shook my head and it felt weird, like I’d disobeyed on order. His lips kinked into a miscreant grin and instead of being angry he looked amused. “What are you afraid of? That I will convince you do something naughty?” he teased.
“Yeah. Because you do. Fine. You win. When I’m with you, I feel uninhibited. And I like all the things that you do to me and I to do you—”
“But?”
“Is that all we are going to have? Just sex?” I didn’t move; rooted in place. I refused to get any closer. He often reduced me to a woman with a tenuous grasp on control and volition with a simple touch. I didn’t want to lose touch with them.
He sighed heavily, unclasped his hands. “Come here,” his tone laden with command.
I moved closer to him and then stood in front. He pulled me onto him, until I was positioned on his lap, my legs straddled his.
Slipping his hands under my shirt, his fingers caressed by skin. Experienced fingers kneaded over the lower part of my back. I relaxed against him, resting my face on his shoulder. “We are just meeting each other’s needs. Don’t make it complicated, Ella. Please.”
“And that’s all you want. Primal, carnal, primordial sex. To behave like animals as though we don’t function on a higher level.”
He chuckled, his chest reverberated against me. His thick cords of muscles taut under my fingers, where they rested around his waist.
“What’s wrong with it being a little more?” I asked softly.
“Why did you agree to be with me last week and this week,” he whispered.
I sat up and looked at him. “You know why. Because I told you by opening up to you. And you keep throwing it back in my face. My life has been an open book to you and when I inquire about anything about your life, what is going on between us is reduced nothing more than sex. And nothing more.”
“Okay, Ella, you get three questions. Only. Ask what you need to know about me to make you feel comfortable. Three questions, can you agree to that?”
I shook my head.
“You’d prefer none.”
“I’d prefer you just talking to me.”
“What are we doing now?” he asked. Then he laughed, running his finger along the bridge of my nose.
“Ten.”
“Three.”
“Five,” I countered.
“Three.” He said firmly and with the set of his jaw I knew there would be no changes. How quickly he switched from Aiden the mysterious guy I had s
ex with to hardened business man in just seconds.
I nodded in agreement.
And he waited patiently for me to think about it. What were three pressing questions I needed to know about him. I knew the obvious: his favorite drink: Scotch, music—classic jazz, favorite designer—it seemed to be Tom Ford. He had a strained relationship with his father, but I didn’t know why. And his relationship with his ex was cordially hostile if there was even such a thing.
“Why don’t you like your father?” I asked.
“I love my father. He’s done some things I didn’t approve of.”
“Like what?”
“A hostile takeover of one of my companies to teach me a lesson. And I did the same thing to him two years later.”
“Is that it or is there more?”
“He took something that was quite valuable to me,” he said. His gaze wavered before it lifted to meet mine again.
“What?”
His hand slid further up my shirt, gently stroking my nipple, and when they hardened and then he pinched them. Heat pulsed between my legs and moved up. I moved closer to him, feeling his erection against me.
“That’s your third question. Is that the one you really want the answer to?” He asked.
But there were so many more questions I wanted to ask, and prioritizing them was very difficult. Aiden was an artist when it came to making deals. And he stuck to his rules — because that’s what Aiden did. He was rules, restrictions, discipline.
I nodded.
“Elizabeth. They were screwing each other.”
The audible gasp caught in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Why, you didn’t make her screw him.”
“Are you the father of Elizabeth’s baby?”
He pressed his fingers against my lips. “That’s three.”
I rested my head against him again feeling the soft rhythm of his heart. His hand stroking and roving over my body in languid movements.
