by KB Winters
The two men I’d been speaking with had also noticed her, their eyes roving greedily over her curves. After a short beat, they turned their attention back to me. I was completely blank now. All I knew was that I’d probably have to masturbate tonight when I got home if my cock insisted on behaving like this.
I finished with, “Which, occurring naturally in the world, brought about the . . . singular desire for love. And that’s what we’re trying to exploit.”
They stared at me for a moment after I finished. “Fascinating,” one finally breathed, taking a sip of his scotch.
Yeah. Right.
Heller replaced his glasses on his nose, smiling broadly, as if he hadn’t just let me nail up my own coffin. “Well, we’ll leave you to it,” he said, clapping me on the back and leading the guests away.
I cleared my throat and thought about what I’d said to those investors. Holy shit, could that be any more of a crash and burn? Had I actually rambled on about the dawn of computer programming? And the singular desire for love? What the fuck was I doing? Narrating a soap opera? Could I have sounded any more destined for a straightjacket?
Placing my empty Coke on the bar, I ordered another, this time, with a double shot of Jack in it. I figured I needed something stronger, if only to get my wayward tongue and cock to behave a little more appropriately. Then I turned around, trying to find the woman in the red dress. Even if I spent the rest of the night behind a potted plant in the corner, if she were in the room, I could at least enjoy the view.
The room was packed with people, sardined together. Despite that, I found the woman in the red dress sitting at one of the high-hat tables across the way. It was easy, partly because there was no way of hiding those curves, even in a crowded room. But also because, when my eyes drifted to her pale face, I realized that her eyes were dead set on me.
Gloomy eyes.
And cherry red lips.
Meg Baker.
I blinked. I couldn’t fucking believe it. The bartender must have spiked my Coke with something a helluva lot stronger than Jack. It couldn’t be Meg. Had to be a lookalike.
The music stopped, the lights dimmed ever further, changing color from blue to green, and everyone around us seemed to fall into oblivion as I raked my eyes over the first and only woman to ever drive me batshit crazy. Blood surged to my cock, and heat crept up my spine.
A slow smile spread over her face, like she recognized me, too. Then, in typical Meg Baker fashion, she did a sly little wink in my direction.
Holy fuck. It was her. The woman of every one of my fantasies, sitting right there, smiling at me.
Chapter 4
Meg
I’d left my wrap in the car.
If I was going to seduce this business partner, I knew my uncle wanted me to go in, guns blasting. I needed to show all the goods for total devastation.
Total and complete ruination.
Despite the early May evening chill and a stiff, damp breeze blowing off the Hudson River, I felt a surge of warmth, of power, as I walked to the front of the venue. Two waiters on their smoke break craned their necks to watch me, and one tried to get my attention with a, “Hey baby.” Hah. I was nobody’s baby.
Once inside, I stopped in front of the RAIN wall of water, composing myself for the grand entrance. Then I walked across the crowded room, swinging my hips like I owned the place.
I could practically feel the money in my hand. Men everywhere—old and young—swiveled to look at me. Women looked at me, too, catty and envious, whispering to each other. I smiled and nodded. This was going to be the easiest money I’d ever made.
I spied my uncle, speaking with two older men in expensive suits. Doing his best to ignore me despite the fact that every other eye was on me, he led them toward the bar, where a young man was sitting, rather stiffly. He smiled crookedly, adorably, like a lost little puppy who wanted to be anywhere but here. He played absently with a too-tight collar. Uncle Heller glanced at me for barely a second, and then removed and started to polish his glasses.
Got it.
I studied the man, my victim, and had a hard time believing that such a young man had been giving Uncle Heller so much trouble. I’d expected someone older, and not quite so . . . attractive. This man, I could easily see myself fucking. He was tall, and yes, a little geeky, with his dark-rimmed glasses and medium build. Uncle Heller was right when he said he couldn’t dress worth a damn. The suit was too big, the pants a tad too short. He also . . .
I stopped. Looked closer. Heaved a big breath.
It wasn’t possible. Was it?
Of course it was possible. E-Ventures was a tech company. And as such, my Uncle Heller’s business partner was very heavily into technology.
I was staring at Gabe fucking Cranford.
There was no mistaking that awkward flush that rose on his cheeks, or the way he gnawed on the inside of his mouth whenever he was nervous.
Damn fuckin’ Gabe.
I thought about that night in his truck. How much I’d wanted him, how I couldn’t wait to sink onto his huge cock and feel him deep inside me. Then he came before we ever got started.
I’d thought about that a thousand times after I’d left, how we’d been so close to actual fucking. Sometimes, when I was with a particularly boring lover, I’d close my eyes and picture Gabe, and I’d come like a rocket.
Now, here he was, standing not twenty feet away from me. Mine for the taking.
And my thighs were trembling.
I was the one who’d left. Three days after my mother’s funeral, a funeral attended by only three people — my uncle Heller, the priest, and me. I left with my uncle in his shiny Lincoln to live in Fort Lee, right outside of Manhattan and an hour away from where I’d grown up in Annandale.
My mother, Sarah, wasn’t the best mother in the world. She tried to be, tried to be the kind of mother who gave me a healthy snack when I came home from school and helped me with my homework. But she self-medicated all the time, and that usually got in the way of her aspirations. I never faulted her, though, because I understood her reasons. The men in her life had fucked her over big-time. I still didn’t know if the overdose was intentional, but I knew why she’d done it. It was the result of letting the men in her life mean something, and then they’d drop her. She’d had her heart broken one too many times.
It was something I vowed, long ago, never to do.
I never said goodbye to a soul, and never went back. I needed to close that chapter of my life, start fresh, forget.
And I had, for the most part. But I’d never done a good job at forgetting Gabe.
I sat down at a high-hat table and a waiter with a tray of mini-quiches came by. When he offered me some, I shook my head. “I could really do with a drink, though.”
Many drinks. In fact, I’d be happy if he lined up shots on this table so I could do them one by one. I’d told my uncle I wouldn’t imbibe to keep my head clear, but this was an emergency.
The waiter nodded and set a cocktail napkin with the logo for my uncle’s company, E-Ventures, next to me. “And what can I get you?”
It suddenly hit me. I couldn’t order my regular without sticking out, big time. My main go-to in the clubs was shots. Not fruity shots, but whiskey, straight-up.
“Uhm,” I said, racking my brain for the semblance of an alcoholic cocktail that screamed that I was a modern woman. “Cosmopolitan.” That was a drink, right?
He nodded and walked off. My eyes trailed back to my old lover. I’d dated Gabe for three months, the longest I’d ever dated anyone. Funny, how I worked to stay aloof and not end up like my mother, but our track record when it came to men were eerily similar. After my dad left, when I was still in diapers, she had a string of casual boyfriends. She’d wanted each of them to be my replacement fathers, not that I needed or asked for one. But it never worked out that way.
In fact, it worked against her. Especially when I turned sixteen and started sleeping with them. The sexy ones, anyway
. I didn’t know why. I was bored. And a brat. I’d always felt less-than in my life, but when I hit puberty, I learned that a simple bat of the eyelashes or a shake of my ass could level mountains where men were concerned. My mother and I fought like cats and dogs, and I wanted some way to get back at her so, I slept with men that were twenty years older than I was, and never felt guilty.
Well, until she died.
Then I felt like shit.
By the time I hooked up with Gabe, I was sick of corrupted, sleazy old men who’d drop their pants in a heartbeat for a young piece of ass. Gabe was the only guy I’d ever really dated, the only boy I’d been with who was close to my age. He was so naïve, a breath of fresh air, but I knew that given a few years, he’d become just another man. Just like the rest of them.
After that fateful night with Gabe, I’d snuck home at one and gone straight to bed. When I’d found my mother in her bed the following morning, cold and pale, her lips blue, it all came crashing down on me. She’d been alone, and so, so sad. She’d wanted something the world had denied her. Every person in her life had failed her. But most of all, I had failed her, and in the biggest, most selfish way.
I found the bottle of sleeping pills, still half-full on her bedside table. I swallowed every last one.
It wasn’t enough. Maybe it was my age or the fact that I didn’t down a bottle of whiskey like my mother did. I woke up in the hospital two days later, feeling like shit and just in time for the funeral.
Then I left.
And I swore then I’d never let a man fuck his way into my heart.
Even a geeky one, with dreamy brown eyes and a crooked smile that melted hearts. He may have been nice then, but boys grow up to be men and then they change. I didn’t need any of them.
And I sure as hell didn’t need Mr. Quirky Smile over there. This was a job. And our connection could definitely work to my advantage. He’d be more willing to tell me his secrets, someone he knows, rather than a complete stranger.
Hell, yes. This was good.
I steeled myself, facing him.
My Cosmopolitan came. I sipped it demurely, despite hating the sour taste of the cranberry juice. He finished talking to my uncle, ordered another drink, and turned away from the bar, his eyes sweeping over the crowd.
They landed on me.
And they locked. I could tell the exact moment when realization dawned, because he almost fell off the barstool. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed. His eyes widened slightly, and he tugged on the collar of his shirt again.
Oh, Gabe. So innocent, and yet . . . a man. Good for one thing only. Well, actually, good for another thing, since he was going to win me my freedom.
I could taste it. I’d had Gabe wrapped around my finger once before, and I could do it again. Easily. I could probably have what Uncle Heller was looking for by the end of the hour, if I played my cards right.
But what would be the fun in that?
His gaze was fixed on me, now. He didn’t mentally undress me like most men did, though. He was focused on my face. I decided to tease him by running my tongue slowly over my upper lips.
He let out a breath, as if I was physically deflating him of every ounce of restraint he had left.
Then to seal the deal, I winked at him and smiled.
As I’d anticipated, it was all a simple man like Gabe needed. He lifted his drink off the bar, and started to beeline his way through the crowd, headed toward me.
Chapter 5
Gabe
Meg.
God, Meg.
It was too much. As I pushed through the crowd trying to get to her, I could taste her sweet kisses in my mouth. My cock throbbed in my pants, clearly wanting to continue where we’d left off all those years ago. I knew I was in danger of having a hard-on in front of all my guests. The fact that this was the most important party of my career disappeared, and what replaced it was unbearable need.
I needed this woman.
I was the middle-of-the-road guy, and I didn’t get excited or passionate where anything was concerned. I’d been told by my business partner that I was wishy-washy, because I usually see all sides and ramifications of an issue and couldn’t zero in on one solution.
But I’d never been more sure of anything in my life. Meg and me? We needed to finish what we’d started. Tonight.
Now.
Fuck LuvMakr. Fuck all these investors. I’d been designing apps since college, and I’d design more. There was plenty of opportunity to succeed in this business. Especially with a mind like mine.
But Meg? She was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Her being here now? Had to be a miracle. And this time, I wouldn’t miss my chance.
I bit my lip as I made my way toward her. Back then, I’d embarrassed myself. She’d teased me and made me come too fast. This time, I knew what I was doing. I’d had lovers before. I’d even had a couple long-term relationships, with satisfied women who called me an excellent lover. I knew how to make Meg come now. And I’d do it tonight.
Whatever it took.
The crowd parted, and I stopped in my tracks.
Some man had approached Meg. He was standing beside her, casually leaning his elbow on the high-hat table. He leaned toward her, a glint in his eyes. One of my investors, no doubt. He had a powerful look on his face, like he got what he wanted.
Like hell. He’d get Meg over my dead body.
She sat back, her spine stuck straight as he whispered in her ear. I watched as she sipped her cocktail and shook her head slightly. She gave him a coy smile, but it was clear from the look in her eyes that she wasn’t interested.
He leaned in again, whispering something into her ear. As he did, his hand grazed her bare knee.
She swiveled her legs away, so he had no choice but to drop his hand to his side. The smile on her face dissolved, and there was nothing left but annoyance.
Still, the man persisted. I understood the desperation. Even if I hadn’t had that high school memory of Meg, I’d have dwelled upon the promise of what lay beneath that red dress. I’d have imagined it being bared to me, her sweet, full tits, that gorgeous, plump ass. Before, she’d been my fantasy, but now, she was every man’s fantasy.
I took a step forward. I knew Meg wasn’t the type that let other people meddle in her problems. She hated depending on anyone, because to her, it showed weakness. Meg never had the best reputation in school. Rumors constantly swirled that she was easy. But whenever I tried to defend her honor, she’d get angry at me. Just fuck ‘em, she’d say to me. I’ll take care of it. And stop acting like those people matter. Because they don’t.
When she tried to stand and the goateed man grabbed her arm, roughly yanking her toward him, I’d seen enough.
I moved forward, my hands clenched into fists.
Chapter 6
Meg
The man’s name was Glenn something. Boring. He was the CEO of some Manhattan investment group, and he’d told me in no uncertain terms, that he wanted to take me home to his penthouse on the Upper East Side, where he had a sex room a la Fifty Shades. Then he proceeded to whisper just how he’d tie me up and defile me, in great detail, as his wiry goatee scratched my ear.
Ugh. Where do these guys come up with this stuff?
I shook my head and smiled at him. “I’m not into kink, but thanks.”
He dropped his hand on my knee, his fingers working in small, circular motions. “But you could be. Maybe you just need to try it.”
I rolled my eyes. I had tried it, fuck you very much. And I hated every minute of it. Surrendering all control to a man? Relying on him? It had been one of the more demeaning sexual encounters of my life, one I was certain never to repeat. “No thank you,” I said again, swiveling my body away from him and putting myself in a closed-off position, hoping he’d get the hint.
Meanwhile, Gabe had edged closer, but now he was just standing there, hanging back, and Goatee Prick was really starting to get on my nerves.
I let out a huff of air
, kept my voice flat. “Like I said. Thanks but no thanks.” I grabbed my drink and slipped off the stool.
No sooner than I did that, he wrapped his thick, meaty hand around my upper arm in a way I knew would leave a bruise. He pulled me toward him. Spit hit my face as he blurted, “Fine. I’ll fuck you in my limo. Would you like that better?”
“Hey!”
The man whirled around. Gabe stood appraising the situation with a cautious but non-threatening frown on his face. I could finally see him up close. He was taller than I remembered. More formidable. Different. Goatee Man ran an eye over his cheap suit, staring him down, despite the fact that Gabe had several inches on him. “And who are you?”
Gabe smiled and reached out his hand. “I’m Gabe Cranford, owner of E-Ventures. This is my party. And you are . . .?”
He didn’t bother to shake Gabe’s hand. He ran a hand through his bristle-brush haircut. “Glenn Shoemaker.” He looked at me and guilt seeped into his face. His voice was decidedly quieter now. “Uhm. . .we were just . . .”
Gabe dug a hand into the pocket of his dress pants and nodded amicably. “Finishing up? Great,” he said, taking my hand lightly in his. His palm was damp with sweat, and I noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring. Gabe was a nervous guy. Always had been. Though he seemed to be cool and collected, little quirks often gave him away, including his palms. “I need to take this young lady away from you for a moment.”
Glenn nodded dumbly, speechless, and skulked away.
I was happy to go wherever Gabe wanted to take me. This was what I’d practiced for, what I had counted on. To get him alone and shake his secrets loose. He took me away from the crowd, toward a quiet VIP area, with white leather sofas arranged in a tight square. He sat cattycorner to me, so our knees were touching. Then he said—adorably I might add— “Hi.”
