by King, Imani
Love, for me, had never been roses or lilies. It was a small, light purple color and possessed a calming scent so strong it could clear your head or fill a room. It was the way my father quietly smiled whenever my mother entered the room. It was the way she’d softly place her hand on his shoulder. It was the way you knew just by looking at them that there wasn’t a single thing they’d change about their lives, because all of the tragedies and heartache they’d faced had brought them together.
I’d wanted to paint that.
Instead, I’d defiled it.
I couldn’t think straight at that time. Love had broken me. Love had scarred me. And so I’d taken that sacred image of love and twisted it. The bouquet looked damaged, like it had been squeezed in a fist and then thrown to the floor. Dark, brutal lines filled the background, threatening to devour the delicate lavendar’s petals. The painting didn’t depict love, it depicted anger.
I remember how relieved I’d been when the coffee shop had accepted it into the show. It was a powerful painting, but not one I ever wanted to see again. Still, the day I walked into the coffee shop and saw a little red sticker by the label signaling it had been sold, I’d never been so happy. Someone had actually bought something I’d done.
So why did Preston have it?
Preston had no right to have this painting.
He was the last person I wanted to have it.
***
“I just love this painting,” the receptionist says.
I blink, suddenly back in the present. I look up to find her staring at me expectantly.
“Oh. Thanks,” I mutter.
“I’ve asked Mr. Easterbrook if he’d be willing to sell it to me. I don’t make enough to buy one of your paintings, of course…but I thought maybe he could gift it to me instead of a Christmas bonus. I’d even leave it up in the office. But he says it’s not for sale. I swear, he guards your paintings like a dragon guarding his gold.”
Paintings? As in, he had more than one?
I glare at the over sized red doors. They were so obnoxiously bright and big I just knew his office had to be behind them.
“Oh, I’m sorry to keep you,” the receptionist stammered. “You can go in now. Mr. Easterbrook is expecting you.”
Expecting? More like he’s lying in wait, ready to pounce the moment I open the door. But that was alright. I was ready to fight back.
I storm through the doors into his office.
The doors close immediately behind me.
I rub my arms. It’s unnervingly chilly in here. I guess it’s apt. Hell would have to freeze over before I stepped foot in Easterbrook’s office. I squint in the dim light. Maps, bookshelves, and art adorn the dark wooden walls. And most of that art is mine.
I clench my hands into fists, grit my jaw, and look forward.
Preston wasn’t joking. Two of the walls in his corner office are floor to ceiling windows with a fantastic view of the city. It probably is breathtaking at night. Even right now, on such an overcast day, it’s breathtaking. I feel like I’m floating above the city. It would be wonderful if I wasn’t also floating with him.
My eyes still haven’t adjusted to the dim light, so I can just make out his dark, lean, muscular form lounging on the edge of his desk. There’s a dazzling flash of white as his sexy lips curl back into a devilish smile.
“Hello Tachell.”
Chapter 30
His blonde hair is tussled and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. His tie is nowhere to be seen. Knowing his reputation, that’s probably for the best. I bet it’s next to a frilly pink thong on the floor behind his desk.
I try to be disgusted. Really, really, really try. But goddamn, it’s hard to feel anything other than my pounding heart and tightening stomach as a sickeningly sweet giddiness gallops through my core like a hundred wild stallions.
Yes, Preston Easterbrook is The Devil. And do you know what? The Devil is hot as hell.
He’s got high, sharp cheeks and a chiseled body that belongs in a museum of very fine art. The man redefines the term mind fuck. He’s everything your mother would not even dare to warn you about because she knew it would put truly dangerous thoughts in your head. Thoughts like the ones in my poor head at this very moment.
Those dark, piercing blue eyes of his narrow on me. For a moment, I can’t breathe. I feel well and truly caught. It is then that his lips curl up into a smile, and I’m immediately transported to that night two months ago when I made the biggest, sweetest mistake of my life.
***
I was locking the door to my studio, drained and eager to go home, when I heard him speak.
“I heard about Clarence.”
I stiffened, trying hard not to allow his low, dark voice to affect me. My keys jingled as I plopped them into my pocket. “Oh yeah?” I asked without turning.
My neck tensed as he rested his hand on my shoulders. Preston rarely touched me. Oh, he offered to plenty enough and he started early. I think the first time he asked if I wanted a free mammogram was when we were thirteen. (I declined. Then kicked his shin. Next time he came over to my house, he was wearing shin guards.)
Luckily, the guy did nothing more than offer. There were times when he almost made a move, but whenever he touched me he pulled away so fast that it left me wondering if it had even happened or if I was just imagining it.
But that night his hand lingered, and I stupidly didn’t pull away.
Slowly, his hand moved down to the small of my back.
I shut my eyes as an awareness that was both welcome and unwelcome at the same time flooded me.
He leaned in almost close enough to touch. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he whispered as his minty breath caressed my neck.
And you do? I almost asked condescendingly. Clarence’s cheating ass definitely didn’t deserve all the time I’d given him…but then again, Preston definitely didn’t deserve me either. But sometimes when your heart is broken, you don’t think about mending it. That night, I didn’t dream of a fairy godmother coming down in a sparkling rainbow beam and magically making everything better. For a few hours, I just wanted to forget.
I leaned back into his hand. My eyelashes fluttered before I looked up into his deep blue eyes. I watched them darken as I ran my tongue over my bottom lip.
Oh, I knew it was a mistake before I led him down the hallway. Before we turned the corner and he pushed me up against the wall, unable to control himself any longer. I shivered as his teeth grazed my throat, moaned as his lips claimed mine. He whispered my name and my cunt throbbed. We were doing this—we were actually doing this. His hands gripped my ass hard and he growled with approval as he hoisted me up. I wrapped my legs around him as his massive cock strained against his pants, aching to break free.
“Preston,” I cried out, shivering. Saying his name thrilled me, like I was whispering a forbidden, dirty word for the first time.
A word like fuck.
Ten minutes later, Preston gave me the best orgasm of my life. And then, he did it again five more times.
Frankly, I’m amazed his dick didn’t fall off. But no, the next morning, I’d woken up in the biggest bed I’d ever seen next to the most magnificent cock I’d ever laid eyes on.
And then, the owner of both gave me a cocky grin I’d unfortunately seen in my nightmares way too many times.
How about another round, Tachell? he asked, wiggling his eyebrows like a cartoon villain who’d just finishing tying the damsel in distress to the train tracks.
Oh. Hell. No. I picked up the impossibly soft feathered pillow I’d slept on and threw it in the smug bastard’s face.
He just smiled. You’ll be back.
No, I won’t. I don’t think I’d ever gotten out of bed and dressed so fast.
He cocked his head to the side, refusing to listen to the truth. Tell me that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.
I’d bitten the inside of my cheek. I’ve had better.
Clarence didn
’t give you better. How many other guys have you been with?
My cheeks had burned. Every part of me burned.
He sat up, exposing more of his perfect, chiseled, naked body.
You know those parts of me that were “burning” before? Yeah, all of a sudden a motherfucking inferno started blazing inside me.
You just say the words, and I’ll be there, he’d whispered in a voice as sweet as sin. I’ll be everywhere. Up inside you, in the hallway—
I slammed his bedroom door shut and stomped out of his apartment, ready to bury the entire fiasco and pretend like it never happened.
Unfortunately, that was impossible now.
***
“I told you you’d be back,” Preston says with a grin that would give Lucifer himself a run for his money.
I roll my eyes. “It’s inevitable that we’d run into each other again. You’re my brother’s boss.” And you like to pop into my life at random and obnoxious times like a recurring nightmare zit, but I didn’t say that because I really didn’t want to go there with him right now.
“That isn’t the only reason,” he drawls, “but I do partially agree with you. Certain things between us are…inevitable.”
“Are you talking about your uncanny ability to piss me off? Because, yeah, I’d say that’s pretty damn inevitable.”
“Is that any way to talk to an old friend and lover?”
“Past lover, if you can call a man you shared one night of sex with a lover. What we had barely even counts as a fling.”
His eyes darken as he slides off the front of his desk and stalks towards me.
As he does, I definitely don’t notice how tall he is. Or how good he looks in his expensive, tailored suit. Or how you can tell how strong and athletic his body is just from the way he moves.
Nope. I’m totally not noticing. And my heart isn’t pounding even though he’s towering above me.
He raises his hand as if to touch me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he runs his hand over his freshly shaven jaw. Still, my body reacts as if he’d put those hands on me—no, even worse—my body reacts as if it wishes he had.
“What would you call us then, Tachell?” he asks softly.
I gulp and stupidly glance up at his dark eyes.
My breath catches. I remember being on all fours on his bed. His confident fingers running over my bottom lip and then slipping into my mouth. Him pulling back my hair so I was looking up at his strong face and our sweaty reflection in the mirrors above.
Yeah. That’s right. The guy actually had mirrors on the ceiling above his bed.
And, to my infinite shame, at the time I hadn’t been disgusted. Instead, a dark thrill had shot through me because it meant I could see his perfect ass pistoning in the mirror as he took me hard and fast again and again and again.
I take an uncertain step back. What the hell was going on? How was I losing control this easily just from him being so close?
His lips curl into a predatory smile. “Speechless?”
Not as speechless as you’re about to be, I think. That’s right. I came here for a reason. I came here to take care of business, and not the sexy kind.
But Preston, with his one track mind, has no idea how big the shit I’m about to lay on him is. “It might have just been one night, but we made love many times. I can’t believe how uninhibited you are.”
“We fucked. We didn’t make love,” I correct, still inching back.
He keeps advancing and he runs his tongue over his front teeth as he does, reminding me of the Olympic-worthy stunts it had pulled off on me down there. “I love a woman who doesn’t mince her words.”
I could do without the “love” bit, but I decide to take the compliment for what it was. “You’re right. I don’t.”
My back hits the door. He leans over, planting his forearm above my head. The masculine and undeniably intoxicating scent of his cologne fills my nose.
“Tell me what you came here for,” he whispers.
I gulp. Alright. Go time. Slowly, I look up one last time, and his eyes flare with possession and desire.
“Preston…I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 31
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Preston Easterbrook at a loss for words.
He’s gone as still as one of the Queen’s guard. All the color has drained from his face. His eyes are wide with confusion. His mouth hangs open.
Is it bad that I’m enjoying this just a little bit?
Alright, fine. I’m enjoying it a lot, and I refuse to feel bad about it…especially since my life recently has been one disaster smashing into another and seeing this look on his face almost makes it worth it.
Almost.
I reach behind me for the doorknob and twist it. “Well, I think that concludes our meeting. I’m keeping the baby.” And I’m not letting you make me regret it. Sure, the conception was a mistake, but every baby was a gift and I was determined to be the best mother I could with or without Preston’s help. “It looks like you need a little time to digest this information. I fully understand. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”
Then I push back, opening the door. Preston’s still leaning against it, and his stiff body falls forward while I turn and walk back to the elevator.
The receptionist stands, frowning as Preston stumbles forward. “That was fast.”
I smile cheerily. “Yep. Turns out there wasn’t much to talk about.” I hit the button next to the elevator. This time it was only one floor away, thank God. Something told me I didn’t want to be here when Preston came to.
The receptionist’s frown deepens. “Should I call an ambulance?”
I watch Preston flop against the wall, breathing heavily. “Na. He’ll be fine.”
The receptionist recoils like I just threw my head back and started cackling uncontrollably like a cartoon villain. I can’t say I blame her because I’m sure I look pretty damn creepy. It’s not often one comes out on top after an altercation with Easterbutt.
(Yeah, that’s right. Easterbutt. You might not be laughing, but I’m pretty sure that when my kid turns six she or he will think it’s the funniest thing they ever heard. I sure did at that age.)
The door slides open with a glorious ding. I’ve never heard such a wonderful sound in all my life. I’d been up in the clouds for too long; it was time to come back down to earth. I step into the glamorous elevator and hit G.
“Tachell!”
I frown. Did that desperate voice belong to Preston? It sounded like Preston, but no, it couldn’t be. If there was one thing I could count on that asshole for being, it was sure of himself. There was a tenderness in that voice that seemed to mirror my own uncertainty for the future…and share my hope.
I lean to the side, trying to get a better view as the gold doors start to close.
I stop breathing. Stop thinking. Stop moving.
That wasn’t Preston.
It couldn’t be.
Sure, until five minutes ago I’d never seen Preston at a loss for words…but I’d also never seen him make an expression like that. It went beyond desperate need. It was like he was reaching out for everything he’d ever wanted in life and, at the same time, terrified that he’d lose it. The last thing I see are his blue eyes piercing mine with such possessiveness that it makes me tremble.
It’s like they’re saying: You can’t run away anymore. I will find you, because you belong to me. You’ve always belonged to me.
Then, the doors slide shut.
The brass bar hits my back as I fall against the wall of the elevator. I shut my eyes, now dreading the sound of the little ding because I know it means the doors will open again and he will come through and I’ll be trapped inside with him.
The elevator jostles, then starts its descent.
Thank God. I exhale, unaware that I’d been holding my breath up until now.
Okay, that was terrifying. Yes, I’d thought the news would knock that cocky grin right off his face, and I’d looked
forward to seeing it happen. Maybe that made me a bitch, or maybe it was my just desserts. Either way, I figured that’s where it would end.
Well, alright, I actually figured it would actually end with Preston demanding a paternity test…but still. I wasn’t expecting that.
He’d looked at me like he owned me. Well, that guy had another thing coming. A few orgasms (or few dozen, but who’s counting?) and a baby didn’t make me his. I would never belong to any man, least of all him.
I glance at the digital readout pasted just above the elevator’s doors. I was only on floor 50. It was a long way down, and the ride was made even longer by the fact that I knew Preston was going to be chasing me. I didn’t know what he wanted to say, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear it.
I shut my eyes and remind myself to breathe.
It wasn’t so bad. At least I had a head start.
***
I haul ass out of that lobby. Unfortunately, it’s the kind of place where people generally do not haul ass, and the old man at the front desk glares at me like I lifted something.
I’m tempted to flip him the bird. I’m also tempted to ask him to call security. They might act as a good buffer between me and Preston.
No, wait. Calling security was a horrible idea. Preston would ask them to drag me back to his office, and because he paid their salary they’d do it no questions asked. And once he had me locked inside his nocturnal pleasure tank, only God knows what he’d do.
Discarded frilly pink thongs fall like cherry blossoms in my mind. I feel so bad for God.
Once I’m at the front desk, I hear someone call my name. And by someone, I mean Preston. And by call, I mean shout out like his body is currently being consumed by the fires of hell.
This, unfortunately, does not go unnoticed. The old man at the front desk grabs the phone. I hear him utter the word “Security” right before I decide it’s time for me to haul ass a little faster.
I’ve never been so happy to be in my paint splattered boots. If I’d been in heels, I never would’ve reached the rotating doors ahead of the beefy security dudes all decked out in black that swarm the entrance.
