Pulling my hand away, I clear my throat. “What about you, Sir? What do you do?”
“I'm a gastrologist.” The way he says it makes Sia shrink in her seat.
“Oh,” I say as a waiter comes by and places a basket of warm rolls on the table. Grabbing one, I take a big bite. “Mm,” I say with a mouth full of bread. “I have a great doctor joke. Guy goes to the doctor dressed in nothing but bubble wrap. He says, ‘Doctor can you help me?’ The doctor says, ‘No, I can clearly see your nuts.’” Chuckling hard, it takes a second for me to realize that no one else is laughing along.
Swallowing hard, I stuff the rest of the roll in my mouth and run my hands up and down my thighs. This is awkward.
“Sia, your mother tells me you'll be applying to medical school for the next year.”
“Yeah, a few more months and I'll be trading dresses and heels for scrubs.”
The woman shivers as she closes her eyes. “I remember those days. They were awful.”
“I'm happy I get to go to work in jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing fancy, and I don't care if it gets dirty,” I add to the conversation.
“Mm hm,” the woman mumbles uninterested. “I'm sure it's just lovely,” she says. “All that dirt and lord knows what else.”
“Once I got chased through a field by a flock of wild turkeys. I had to climb a tree, only to realize that it was home to a nest of white faced hornets.” Shuddering, I cringe. “Spent the next few days in a bath of oatmeal and looking like I got the chicken pox.”
Glancing around, everyone has a mixed look of either disgust our horror on their faces. And Sia, well she just looks empty. There's no smile or frown. Her deadpan stare is fixed on the centerpiece on the table.
I'm bombing here.
I was hoping that if I was just myself that maybe they would warm up to me. A good joke, a funny story, it usually works. Not on these people. These people have no sense of humor or desire to get to know me at all.
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing my chair back and standing up.
With long sweeping steps, I move through the room, and head for the restroom. I don't know what else to do. Playing pretend doesn't sit well with me, and being myself is making everything worse.
This was a big mistake. I should have never come.
It was naive for me to think that this girl was different. I thought I saw something that obviously isn’t there. I'm embarrassing her.
Sex really does turn a man blind.
I didn't see any of this coming.
10
Siobhan
The air around me is sour. I want to breathe but I can't. My legs are heavy as cement, and the rest of my body is just stuck. I'm trapped here. Trapped at this table. Trapped in this world. Trapped like an animal in a cage.
Every wall is closing in on me, squeezing me from every direction. I can't escape.
I want to laugh at Mark's jokes and his stories. I want to ask him more, learn about his past, get a view of life through someone else's lens.
But I can't. Not here. Not around these people.
If I even show a shred of interest, it will reflect so poorly on my parents, and this entire event. These people will mock my mother, they'll never let her live it down. They might not even allow her in their social circle again. I can't do that to her.
I don't know what Mark's thinking. And in the same breath, I'm grateful for him just being himself. It draws me to him even more, with more and more of my heart opening to him.
The edge he bears is such a turn on. I can't ignore the pull I feel. But he needs to realize that he's not at home. To make a good impression here, he has to play by the rules, even if they're terrible and wrong.
Looking around the room, I see my parents mingling, but no Mark. He's been gone for a few minutes now.
I should go find him.
I feel awful about how these people are treating him, but he needs to know he can't take it personally.
“Excuse me,” I say, forcing a smile and leaving the table.
Searching the venue, he's not in the room anywhere. Standing outside the restroom door, I wait until I think it's clear, pushing the door open slightly and calling his name. He doesn't answer back.
Where the hell did he go?
My heart pounds hard as I wonder if he left altogether. Maybe he decided to just go home, back to the things and people he knows. Back to a place that isn't going to judge him like they are here.
Where he's a hero for his talent with engines, and not looked down on because he doesn't have disposable money. It would be hard to hold it against him if he bolted after the way he's being treated.
Holding up my dress as I walk, I check the front foyer and the lounge. Finally, I spot him sitting on a bench in the garden. His hands are folded together, and his head is down.
He looks deep in thought. His brows are furrowed and his lips are taut as he just stares blankly into the water of the fountain.
Pushing the door open, he jerks his head up. “Hey,” I say. “I thought you might have left.”
“No, I wouldn't just leave without telling you.”
Taking a seat next to him, I grip the edge of the stone bench, peering into the water with him. “That's good.”
“Look,” he says, exhaling a somber breath, “I'm sorry for that. I wasn't trying to embarrass you or anything. It's just—” He cuts himself off, and groans softly. “It's just frustrating, is all.”
“You're not embarrassing me. I don't want you to think that. I get it though, I do. This isn't what you're used to. But you have to understand there's a code here, an unspoken set of expectations that I should have been clearer about.”
Snapping his head up, he turns to face me. “I don't get it, Sia. You are nothing like these people. Is this what you really want to become? Like the people in there?” Throwing his arm out, he points to the building. “Having to hide who you truly are in order to fit in to the box they created for you?”
“It's not that simple, Mark. I don't have a choice here.” My voice is weak, powerless. Even I don't believe me.
“Bullshit,” he snaps. “I see you. I see who you really are inside, and it's not one of them. You want to spend the rest of your life bowing to their expectations and fake friendships? These people don't care about you. You deserve to be happy and that's not what I see here. Here you're a corpse. But I’ve seen you for who you truly are. Vibrant, beautiful, full of life. Your art is enough to tell me you’re different. Right now though, you're nothing but a shell. It's your body, sure, but you're hiding inside.”
He strikes a nerve. My insides twist up, my blood starts to bubble, turning my cheeks red with anger. He doesn't understand, and he has no right to judge me for it.
“A corpse? A shell? You think I like this? You think I like having to shut down just to get by? What do you think I should do then?” My voice shakes, raising and lowering in volume. “I can't change the rules, Mark, and you don't get to just pretend they don't exist because you don't like them. The people in there might not be your type of people, but they all do incredible things. They save lives, they change lives, and they give more than you will ever realize. Having decent behavior can make a big difference, it's not hard to try it out.”
His eyes narrow, pupils turning to pinpricks. “Is that what you think? I'm just a country idiot? You think I'm stupid just like your parents do? Like I can't see what these people think of me?” Jumping to his feet, he hovers over me, lowering his face to mine. “What makes any of these people better than me?”
My chest tightens with him so close. I can't move, there's no place for me to go. He's all around me, holding me in place without a single touch.
“That's not what I meant.” My words are a whisper as I try to gather myself.
I can smell his cologne and feel his breath on my face. His palms are pressed into the bench on either side of my body, boxing me in. My mind swirls with a million thoughts, all of them involving him and his strong hands.
&nbs
p; Licking his lips, his jaw crooks to one side. “I should take you right here so all of those people—fuck, so all of New York knows that you're not some innocent socialite. Let them hear you scream while you’re on my cock. Let them see how good I make you feel.”
Gasping, I inhale sharply as my insides burn and my heart hammers in my chest. My eyes flick between his, but I stay silent.
“You need to make a choice, Siobhan. Be one of them, live a life of misery and trying to reach everyone else's goals for you. Or be happy. Free yourself from this waste, and do what you want to do. I know who I am, now it's your turn.”
Lifting his hand to my face, he strokes my cheek with the back of his knuckles, then pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“When you figure out what you want, let me know.” Kissing my cheek, he releases my face. With his head held high, and his shoulders straight, he turns and leaves.
Placing a hand on my chest, cool air fills my lungs, and I realize I'm breathing fast and heavy. My skin is clammy, and every muscle in my body is buzzing.
Gathering myself, I take a few slow breaths to calm myself down, and go back inside. I barely get through the door before I'm cornered by my parents.
“We heard what happened,” my mother snaps under her breath. “I'm not going to make a scene, but I won't let him embarrass us. I don't know exactly how you got mixed up with that guy, but it's done and over. I'm not stupid. I can see the way you look at each other. He's not good enough for you, and he's certainly not welcome at our house. I want him gone by morning.”
My father just glares at me with his teeth clenched. He doesn't need to say a word for me to know what he's thinking. In his eyes, I fucked up big time. It isn't disappointment, it's straight up anger.
I don't even get to defend Mark. They both spin on their heels, noses up in the air as they storm off.
Standing alone, I watch the room move like a well-oiled machine, and it hits me that no one even notices or cares about my absence. My parents go right back into society mode, working the room with handshakes and fake smiles.
I feel out of place. A shadow on the wall. A silent presence. A puzzle piece that just isn't fitting in place.
Forcing a smile, I slip back in my seat. No one asks where Mark is. No one even bats an eye. It's like he was never here. It's like I never left.
Listening to the conversations around me, I realize I've heard them all before. The same stories, the same punch lines, the same old on repeat.
Nothing ever changes. These people never change. It doesn't matter who they are, they're all the same.
All these people care about is keeping up appearances. They care about the number in their bank account. They care about what fortune five hundred magazine does a spread about them, and if they make the cover.
They couldn’t care less if the donations actually go to anyone. They could give two shits if they change someone's life. None of it matters at all.
This world doesn't really care about anyone. Not even me.
But Mark cares.
11
Siobhan
Flopping on the bed, I let the thick pillows absorb my head. My brain is running wild. Thoughts pass through my mind like white water rapids, churning so hard it's giving me a headache.
Mark was waiting outside the building when I got home from the charity event. He didn't say a word to me. His hands were in his pockets, his mouth stiff and eyes hard. He went right to his room, and I haven't seen him since.
My parents have agreed to let him stay the night, but they're pretty set on him being out tomorrow.
This sucks.
I found something in Mark I haven't had in a long time, not since Jenna. An ally. Someone who's interested in what I like. Someone who enjoys more than just money and status.
And I'm pushing him away because I expect him to conform into something that he's not.
What the hell am I doing?
Tears bubble up over my eyes, but I force them away. Sniffling, I rub my eyes and roll over to my side. I shouldn't have to choose between happiness and family. I shouldn't have to choose between the things I love, the things I know, and the man who knocked my world sideways.
'You need to make a choice. . .' His voice plays over and over in my head like a skipping record.
He's not wrong. You know he's not wrong.
I do bend myself to fit. I do change to please them. I follow all the unspoken rules that are boxing me in and holding me back. And it's not at all what I want. I don't want this life. I never asked for this once.
Except I'm chained here, bound by blood and loyalty to a family that's never once asked me what I want. It's always been about them and how they look, about how we look to others.
How do I get out when I'm dug in like a damn tick?
I can walk away. Right? Just pack up and leave. . .
But then I have nothing.
If I go, I'll cut off. There won't be a trust fund waiting for me. The credit card I use is linked to my parents’ account, and they'll surely cancel it. It's as if they planned it this way. Make me rely on them for everything or have nothing.
Mark's right. I do have a choice to make, but it's not about what I want, it's about finding a way to get it. And right now, I only want one thing. Him.
Fuck their rules.
I glance at the clock. It's one in the morning. I know I won’t fall asleep with all these revelations swimming around in my head, so I climb out of bed and cross my bedroom. I open the door and poke my head into the hall, glancing left to right, then tip toe down the hall to Mark's room.
I stop outside of his door and listen, fumbling with my bottom lip, debating whether I should knock. My knuckles hover over the wood, about to knock, but then I quickly pull my hand away.
What if he doesn't want to see me? What if I ruined what we had?
I stand in the dark hall holding my breath, my hands shaking and my stomach queasy. Closing my eyes, I breathe through my nose and let it out through my mouth. With the tips of my fingers, I tap the door lightly, and push it open.
“Mark?” I whisper as I slip my head inside.
I've spent too much of my life living for other people, it's time to live for myself. He gave me this, the power to choose for myself. I'm choosing him.
The room is dark and full of shadows. I push the door open wider, and soft light from the hall seeps in highlighting the bed and Mark's body under the covers. He's facing away, the blankets pulled up to his ears.
Looking back over my shoulder, I duck inside and close the door behind me. With soft feet, I walk to the bed. My eyes are adjusting to the moonlight coming in from the windows, making it easier to see.
Carefully, I pull back the covers and slip behind him. Mark jumps, lifting his head off the pillow and looking back.
“Sia?” he asks, his voice groggy and scratchy.
“Yeah,” I say.
He reaches around his back, grabbing my hand and pulling it over his waist. Braiding his fingers with mine, he presses my hand against his stomach, holding it tight.
I didn't know if coming in here would be a good idea or not. He could have pushed me out. He could have gotten up and walked away. Instead, he accepted me.
Strumming his thumb up and down over my knuckles, he adjusts himself, making it so there's no space between us. The warmth from his body spreads to mine, and all I want to do is feel more. More of his arms. More of his back. More of his chest and hands and lips.
“Mark. . .” My voice is low as I whisper.
“Yeah?” he asks, twisting his head slightly.
“I'm sorry about—”
“Shh,” he hushes me, flipping over so we're face to face. He runs the tips of his fingers tenderly around the frame of my face. “I don't want you to worry.”
His hand slides down my neck, tracing my spine all the way to my ass. Pulling me in, his cock is already hard, pushing against my thigh. Even in the dark room, his eyes shine bright, almost as bright as
the moon in the sky.
“You're here when you shouldn't be,” he says, his fingers digging into my ass as he brings his lips so close to mine. “You're taking a risk I never thought you would.”
He exhales, lowering his lips to my chin and placing a soft kiss. “You're not following the rules.” He places another kiss on the curve of my jaw, then another on the delicate skin of my neck. His lips are feathery, sending tingles through my body.
“Mm—” I start to moan, but he quickly silences me with his mouth and tongue.
Mark rests his huge palm on my cheek, holding me. His tongue presses my lips open, diving deep into my throat. And I kiss him back. I kiss him instead of moaning. I kiss him instead of screaming for him to fuck me.
I kiss him because it feels more right than anything else in my life ever has.
His hand moves to my chest. Pinching my nipple, he rolls it between his fingers. I attempt to groan again, but his mouth becomes fierce, blocking me from making any noise. Our tongues twine, wrapping and licking, tasting and devouring.
He feels so damn good all over me like this. His hands keep moving lower and lower, exploring every inch of my body until he hits my pussy. Cupping my mound, he presses his fingers against my clit.
“You're wet already,” he says into our kiss. Pushing a finger inside, he starts to move in and out, spreading my juice around the entrance. “I fucking love that.”
I almost moan, but he's right there, paying attention to my every move, to every whimper and coo that threatens to escape my lips. His lips seal around mine as he works my body, fucking me with his hand.
Pulling his finger free, Mark pushes my pajama shorts to the side, and climbs on top of me. In nothing but his boxers, his cock breaks free on its own from the opening in the front. I can see him now. My eyes are fully adjusted, and the light from the windows is enough to make him glow like a god.
His skin is shining, tinted red and glistening with sweat as he thrusts his cock inside my heat. My walls tighten around him, begging him to never leave. I want him to stay here with me forever. Just like this. Just the two of us and no one else.
Big Man’s Heat Page 9
