Almost totally gone in my own pleasure, I dimly felt him stiffen, even as he moved against me. "Tori," he whispered, and he pushed down once more, deeper, filling me fully with one last thrust.
Afterwards, we lay side by side in bed, both of us still breathing heavily. As I waited for my breath to recover, I finally felt my thoughts starting to flow again.
First things first, I thought to myself. I turned to face him, propping myself up on one elbow. "That was... good," I said.
Admit it, honey, said the mental version of Seb inside my head. That was the best you've had, in truth. That wasn't sex – that was practically making love, dream of a teenage virgin.
He just raised his eyebrows at me, and I felt a flush creeping into my cheeks. "Okay, it was really good. You know what I mean. Definitely one of our better rolls in the sack."
"Gee, thanks," he drawled. "I'm putting that on my Yelp page."
"But that's what it was," I kept going. Better to get this out now, avoid any confusion later on. "Just sex. We both had an... an itch that needed scratching. And that's what we did."
"Scratched an itch," he echoed, his eyes resting on me. This time, I couldn't read what might be going on behind those irises. What was he thinking?
I nodded. "And it was nice, and we might need to do it again. But I just want to make it clear that I'm not expecting anything more from you."
"Like what, exactly?"
I still couldn't read him, couldn't tell if he was amused or annoyed. "I don't know. But all that you're doing for me – the house, paying for everything, all of that – I just don't want you to feel like I'm not grateful."
"Not grateful?" He sat up, the covers on the bed falling away from his gorgeous, Greek God body. "Is that why you slept with me? As a thank-you?"
No, of course not! Mostly. "Look, Seb, this is a weird situation between us," I said awkwardly. "Me carrying your baby, and you paying for my house, and..." I trailed off, not sure how to finish the thought.
He rolled out of bed, not even bothering to retrieve his clothes. "I think I've got it," he said stiffly, and marched out of the bedroom.
I looked after him, even reaching up a hand as if to call him back, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't have any answers for myself, even, much less for him.
Seb kept out of my way for the next few days. I barely saw much of him, and when I did encounter him, he always seemed to be busy with... something. One day, I woke up to the whine of power tools, and looked out my window to find him doing something with a saw in the backyard! A couple of days later, I came downstairs in the morning to find him in the kitchen, mixing something powdery inside of a glass bowl. A little part of me wanted to stick around, mainly to ensure that he didn't burn down the entire house as he tried to bake something, but the fiercely intent expression on his face told me that I'd do well to just leave him alone.
To tell the truth, I wasn't too upset about leaving him alone. My mind kept on wandering back to our sexual encounter together, replaying the series of events – sometimes in embarrassingly graphic detail. Had I really rode on him and pressed my tits down against his face, as if attempting to suffocate him? Had he really enjoyed that?
Trying to distract myself, I ended up each day at River's Edge Café, arriving as the place opened each morning around ten, helping out through the lunch rush. Ellen's face now lit up when she saw me walk in, knowing that I'd help take some of the pressure off her during the rush of customers who arrived for lunch.
Ellen's mom, whose name I learned was Vicky, didn't seem to warm up to me nearly as quickly as her daughter. At the end of my first week of showing up, however, she intercepted me at the door.
"Here," she said bluntly, shoving something out to me. "And I suppose that we can pay you, although it won't be much."
Surprised, I looked down at the item she'd thrust into my hands. "An apron?" I asked, unfurling the green article of clothing. "Thanks, Vicky."
"You'll have to wash it if you get it dirty," she grunted. She looked like she was about to turn away, but lingered for a moment, as if fighting against herself. I waited, and after another minute, she turned back to me.
"You're helping out Ellen a lot, and I'm grateful," she said, although the grimace on her face didn't quite match the words. "I'm not good at saying thanks, but it's kind of nice to have you around, not have as many people yelling at my daughter."
"Thanks," I said, meaning it.
"But don't expect me to pay you much," she added as she turned away. "We barely make enough for our bills as is, so there's next to nothing left over for another staff member."
"Actually, on that," I called out before she could retreat back to her kitchen headquarters. "I've got a couple ideas that might bring in a few more customers. Would it be okay if I tried them out?"
She turned back around, her frown back in full swing as she planted her hands on her hips. "Are these going to cost me anything?"
"Most of them won't," I promised. "I might need to borrow Ellen, but I'll ask you before making any really big changes."
For a second, she just narrowed her eyes, her scowl plastered across her face. I tried to keep a smile on my own face, but I felt it slipping, trying to crawl away and escape that frown. Finally, just as the smile started to crack, she sighed. Some of the tension left her shoulders as they slumped.
"Yeah, try whatever you want," she admitted, her gaze dropping down towards her feet (although I doubted that she could see them around her stout body). "Just don't come crying to me if none of the ideas work. I don't know what sort of tricks you might have learned at those parties-"
"Business school," I interjected. I knew that I probably ought to keep my mouth shut, but I didn't like how Mrs. Beckers judged me, and I figured I'd nip some of those preconceptions in the bud.
She raised her eyebrows. "What?"
"Business school," I repeated. "Wharton, at the University of Pennsylvania." I decided not to mention that I dropped out halfway through my third year, not wanting to detract from the impact of my bombshell.
For a second, I saw the conviction in Mrs. Beckers' eyes flicker, sensed that she was re-evaluating me. "Fancy business tricks, then," she finally allowed. "Still, don't be so certain that they're going to work." Not letting me get in another word, she spun around and stalked back to her kitchen, her home turf.
Ellen turned to me, her eyes wide as teacups. "You told my mom about your past?"
"Just a hint, not the dropping out part," I pointed out. "And it's not like she's going to go around blabbing to everyone else."
"I suppose you're right." Ellen sighed, leaning back a little further in her chair and putting herself at acute risk of toppling backwards onto the floor. "Sorry about her, by the way. She's just cranky because this place has never really done well. It's enough for us to get by, but it's working her to the bone, just to keep in place. I really do wish that there was some magic way to turn things around."
"Well, I don't know any magic," I said, "but I do know some basic business ideas. Not everything got wiped away by the years of partying. So why don't you get up and give me a hand?"
"With what?" She stood up along with me, torn between doubt and curiosity.
I pointed. "Cleaning the cobwebs out of the windows, for starters. You'll have to help with the higher ones – I'm pregnant, remember? Can't be going up on chairs or a stepladder; my balance is off."
"I shouldn't have asked," Ellen sighed, but she helped me fetch a bucket of warm, soapy water and a few rags. Working under my direction, she set about cleaning up the dusty front windows of the River's Edge Café.
I kept quiet for a minute, but couldn't hold in my curiosity forever. "So?" I finally spoke up.
"What?" She didn't look away from a black mark on the window.
I shrugged. "Since we met at a party, you've always been super glamorous and glitzy. I never realized that you came from..."
"From what?" she snapped, her eyes suddenly sharp as she looked down
at me. "That I'm poor, that I have to constantly shop the vintage donated clothes to find anything that I can make look expensive, that I've got next to nothing in my bank account?"
I winced. "I was going to say that you came from the suburbs."
For a second longer, Ellen glared hotly at me, looking both ashamed but simultaneously ready to defend herself, even against me. After a minute, however, she sighed and the tension left her posture.
"It's my dirty little secret," she confessed. "I hate it, but if I tell people, they'll just see me as a gold digger. And it's not the money that brings me out to clubs and parties-"
"I get it," I finished for her. "It's the thrill, the rush of knowing that everyone wants you, that you're the center of attention, that they're worshipping you."
"Exactly." Ellen winced. "Sounds like you know about it, too."
I nodded, thinking with shame about my half-completed business degree. "Just as badly as you."
On those words, we both turned our attention back to cleaning.
Even as Ellen worked on the windows, I looked around the little space, and my mind suddenly bloomed with various possibilities. We could have promotions, special deals on certain days, maybe a rewards card for our regulars. We could work up a better menu, to help speed up orders and keep Ellen from feeling so overworked. One of our business school case studies had been a small restaurant, and I still remembered how interesting I'd found that project.
This time, when I returned home, Seb didn't make any comment about the hours I'd been away. Even if he had, I don't think I would have noticed. My head buzzed with new ideas to try out.
I'd stumbled into it by accident, but I'd found a project to keep myself busy.
Chapter Fifteen
TORI
*
I never would have guessed that I'd find anything about my current situation to be normal. I was living in distant suburbia, away from the bustling downtown and the constant parties that I knew. I'd moved in with a brooding, immature young billionaire, whose child was even now growing inside of my uterus. I'd given up booze, drugs – and now, I had to add sex to that growing list of abandoned vices.
That's right. One morning, pausing at the end of a chapter in a business development book, I suddenly had to count the weeks on my fingers. Nearly two months had elapsed since Seb and I made the mistake of falling back into bed with each other, that night when his concern for my safety turned to lust for my body, when he carried me off to bed and rocked my world in a way that I hadn't believed to be physically possible for one man.
And then afterwards, a little switch inside of him seemed to turn off. He went from hot and hungry to cold and distant in a flash. It took almost an entire week before he even spoke to me again.
Admittedly, I suspected that part of that was my fault. After he finished – after we both finished – I'd lain there, trying to catch my breath, and I opened my mouth without thinking.
I.. I may have suggested that I slept with him just as a thank-you for the house, for taking care of my physical needs as I carried his child. I knew that he didn't owe me anything, no matter the parents of the baby inside of me, but I'd tried, awkwardly, to say thanks.
Instead, I made things worse. We were back on speaking terms, but I still sensed the lingering echoes of those hastily spoken words hanging over us, a distant cloud that still threatened to open up with thunder and lightning. Seb greeted me when I returned to the house from River's Edge Café, ate dinner with me, but I still sensed an air of restrained formality in his words and actions.
Still, he seemed to be trying things, at least. He'd be gone from the house, sometimes, when I came back from the café. I didn't mind this too much, even though I felt a little annoyed that he didn't tell me where he was going. If he was going to keep tabs on me, why shouldn't I know where he was going?
One less thrilling part of my pregnancy was starting to show up. I'd passed the four-month mark, now, and my belly was definitely growing larger. There was no way for me to deny that fact – especially when I started finding out that only my sweatpants still fit me. When I tried to pull on my jeans, they slid up to my mid-thighs, but no higher, and I couldn't even get the snap close to closing.
"I'm a whale," I moaned out to Ellen, once she picked up the phone.
"Tori? What are you talking about?"
"A whale," I repeated. "I'm a big beached whale, laying on the floor in my bedroom because I can't fit into any of my clothes! And worst of all is that right now, I just want to stuff my face to make myself feel better!"
"I'll be right over," Ellen said, although it sounded suspiciously like she was trying not to giggle. "Just stay put. Look at the bright side of this!"
"What's the bright side?"
"You get to go out and buy new clothes!"
"Maternity clothes don't really count," I pointed out, even though this observation did brighten my spirits a little. Ellen knew me well enough to say the right things.
"Sure they do. We're going to find ones that make you look really cute, too! Guys will be so distracted by what's going on up north, they won't even notice the belly."
That made me chuckle despite myself. "Get here soon, before I get through all the remaining ice cream in the house," I told her, and hung up. I dug out my last pair of clean sweatpants (mostly clean – they passed the smell test), and headed downstairs to wait for Ellen to arrive.
For a little while, I felt better about myself – but by the time that Ellen pulled into the driveway, my happiness had abruptly shifted into a strangely weepy gratefulness to have such a good friend. Ellen knocked politely on the door, and then widened her eyes as I threw my arms around her as soon as she stepped inside.
"I'm so glad that I have you," I sobbed into her shoulder, horribly aware that I could feel my protruding belly bumping up against her flat stomach. Why did she get to stay thin, not have a little parasitic creature growing inside of her?
"There, there." Ellen patted me on the back, a little awkwardly. "So, any sign of those pregnancy mood swings yet?"
"Ugh, I know," I said, trying to make the tears stop coming out of my eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't really control them."
"That's okay. I'll just have to start stuffing my bra with tissues again, so I can whip them out when you need one." Ellen smiled, grabbing her curvy chest. "It will be just like middle school all over again!"
I snorted; the bad joke helped me get past the weepy spell. "Come on, let's go get me some clothes so that I can still go out in public," I said.
Before we left, Ellen glanced around the quiet house. "Where's Sebastian at?"
I shrugged. "Hopefully off entertaining himself," I answered.
"Aren't you worried about him?"
I looked over at her, sitting in the driver's seat. She wasn't looking back at me, but I noticed her hands gripping the steering wheel rather tightly. "What do you mean?"
She bit her lip for a second before answering. "You know, cheating on you? Sebastian wasn't exactly a super-committed guy before you announced this whole baby deal. I know he bought you this house and everything, but what if he goes back to his old tricks, starts picking up other women?"
I bit down the little surge of jealous anger. "We're not dating or anything, Ellen," I pointed out. My mind immediately objected, thinking of that last time when he'd lured me into bed, the bed in the house he bought for me, the first time we'd done anything together without either of us under the influence. That time hadn't felt like a hookup.
But if his attitude towards me over the last few weeks was any indication, Seb didn't feel the same way about me as I felt towards him. I guessed he'd already put that last time we slept together out of his mind.
Fine. I could handle that. I could be strong.
Ellen looked like she wanted to say something else, but held it back. We drove in silence the rest of the way to the mall.
"I will say this for living in the suburbs," I remarked a couple of hours later, as we loaded bags into
the trunk of her little hatchback. "We might have to deal with driving for twenty minutes before getting to a shopping center, but at least these places have everything we could need."
"Really? You're okay with shopping at big barn stores instead of going to those cozy little upscale boutiques in downtown?" Ellen grinned at me as she did a little pirouette in the parking lot. "You won't find much sexy, high fashion stuff out here."
"So then where did you get your outfits?" I asked, suddenly curious as this inconsistency hit me. "You always came out to party with Seb and I dressed in great, classy stuff. Where'd you buy it, if not in little boutiques downtown?"
Ellen moved in closer after glancing theatrically in both directions, making sure that no one else was listening in. "Thrift stores," she whispered to me. "Not all of us have lots of money – or a guy with lots of money – to buy things. I learned early on how to make every dollar stretch as far as possible."
I nodded, considering Ellen's part-time job at River's Edge, helping her mother. I'd always assumed, when we hung out at exclusive, expensive parties together, that Ellen had her own sugar daddy, some source of income that she kept close to her very skimpy vest. After all, why tell other girls if they might muscle in on your territory?
But I'd never considered before finding her workplace that she might be just as broke as me – more, given that she didn't have one of Seb's casually loaned platinum cards. In a way, that made it even more impressive that she managed to keep up her illusion, that I didn't even suspect anything until now.
"Am I a shitty friend, Ellen?" I asked a second later.
She blinked her long lashes in surprise. "What? No, of course not! Why would you say such a thing?"
I shrugged, climbing into the passenger seat. The seatbelt needed to stretch further to get around me, now, I noticed with distaste. "I didn't even ask you about your background, or know that you didn't have lots of money to throw around. If we'd kept on partying, I might have never asked at all."
For Love of Freedom (Stone Brothers Book 3) Page 10
