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Torian
I stew on my precarious position all night.
It’s clear she made a bad judgment call by sleeping with me.
She made it twice more during the early hours of the morning, when I succumbed to the need to have her again.
But I, by far, made the biggest mistake in letting her win this latest game of ours.
She played me with her body. Seduced me with her beauty. Brought me to my knees with her lack of inhibitions. Over and over.
I kept telling myself I’d grow bored if I tasted her again… Kissed her in one more place… Fucked her repeatedly. But here I stand beside the bed, showered, dressed, and still sporting a dick that can’t be tamed. At least not by me.
Currently, my favorite bodily asset is leashed by the sleeping beauty who lies before me, the thin sheet molding to the curves of her breasts and the gentle groove of her hip.
She has a hold on me. A tight grasp she’s woven intricately since the first day we met.
On cue, she whimpers and tilts her head into the pillow, her dark hair fa
She’ll be awake soon, and I’m too busy battling a raging hangover to deal with whatever attitude the new day brings.
From our brief early morning fuckfest conversation, I know she remains adamant on staying, and even though I gave her a lust-filled promise of agreement, I still haven’t made up my mind.
Breaking a promise to an outsider has never been difficult. I can turn on a dime for those who haven’t proven their loyalty. But the truth is, I want her to stay.
Not for her benefit. Or the women she wants to help.
I need her here. For me.
To feed my growing addiction.
Despite the safety risks associated with my father’s knowledge of her existence, and the myriad of complications fucking her has brought to the table, I’m not willing to let her go.
She wiggles, about to wake, which encourages me to move. I start for the door, not having the patience or restraint to listen to her fake excuses for fucking me when we both know it all came down to strategy.
I ignore the swish of sheets and another waking moan. I don’t stop until I grasp the handle to the hall.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Her voice is husky. Sleep-riddled. “What time is it?”
I should keep my attention straight ahead, directly on the painted wood, on the only barrier keeping me from distancing myself. But I succumb, like I always do with her, and glance over my shoulder.
She’s perched on one elbow, her dreamy gaze hitting me, her long lashes batting softly as her hand clutches the sheet to her chest.
She’s a sight to behold. A vision.
One I need to wipe from my mind.
I plunge the lever, and open the door a crack. “I thought I’d do you a favor and leave you to make your walk of shame without an audience.”
She groans and flops back on the bed, covering her face with a flailed arm. “The sex was inevitable, Cole. It’s the scotch I regret.”
I bristle. Tense. “Inevitable? That’s interesting. I wouldn’t have predicted an admission of guilt.”
“Guilt?” Her arm falls, those eyes narrowing on mine. “What are you accusing me of now?”
I bare my teeth in a sinister smile. “The sordid scheme to try and take me down with the use of your body.” I release the door handle and pivot to face her head-on. “How you pla
Her lips part on silent words, her look of pained defiance almost believable.
“Too bad I saw right through you. But I thoroughly enjoyed your attempt.” My smile increases. “More than once.”
She scoffs and diverts her attention, lowering her gaze to the bed. For a moment she seems lost in angered shock before she mutters, “Fucking idiot,” under her breath.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Ambitious is a more fitting term. Not many people would try to manipulate me with sex. Especially when it’s one of my favorite tactics.” I wink, just to piss her off. “If you’re going to play a player, you probably shouldn’t pit your novice skills against a master.”
“No, Cole, you’re the fucking idiot.” She pushes up on both elbows, awkwardly keeping the sheet to her chest with one hand even though her modesty left the building hours ago. “This,” she indicates the bed with a wave of her free hand, “wasn’t a tactic. I can admit I’m manipulative, but I’m not a fucking whore.”
For a second, I believe her.
I see the anguish in her eyes and take it at face value, but it doesn’t stop me from looking at her with smug superiority to put her off her game like she’s put me off mine.
She rolls her eyes and sighs. “What time is it?”
“Almost one.”
“And you’re leaving?” She drags her attention over me, taking in the business suit and polished shoes. “You’re going to see your father?”
“Soon.”
She slides from the bed, yanking the sheet from the mattress as she goes, the lengthy material trailing behind her like a sordid wedding dress. “And what about me?”
“You’re packing your things.”
“You’re sending me home?”
Yes. No.
Fuck. I want both.
“That depends.” I draw out the words as she continues closer, her sleep-roughened hair tempting me to guide the strands back into place.
“On what?”
“On your admission of guilt. Tell me the truth about why you spent the night in my bed. Explain the reasons for sleeping with the enemy.”
“Why bother? You’ve already made up your mind.”
Because I need to hear her lies.
I itch to believe them.
“There’s no harm in trying.” I succumb to the need to touch her hair, delicately gliding it behind her ear. “Spin me a web of fiction, little fox. Make me believe you’re not a whore.”
A delicate shade of pink enters her cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”
I incline my head. “That’s always been crystal clear.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I don’t know what possessed me to forget.” Her eyes soften with uncharacteristic sadness. “But I still don’t want to leave. I need to see this through. Don’t you think I’m owed that much after everything you’ve put me through?”
I owe her nothing.
Not a damn thing.
“If you want something from me, Nissa, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for something in return.”
She balks, clutching the sheet tighter. “What now?”
I hold her gaze and force a smirk. She’s different this morning. Not brimming with confidence like I’d expected. I thought she’d boast her victory, when in reality she’s exuding failure.
“Drop the sheet,” I demand.
She blinks at me, unmoving. “That’s what you want in return?”
I’m as shocked as she is. I hadn’t pla
“I’m a simple man. With simple requests.” All I want is a subtle humiliation, which is nowhere near the level she inflicted upon me last night.
“And if I drop the sheet, I get to stay?”
I incline my head, my pulse ramping with impatience for her to submit. “Temporarily, yes.”
The muscles in her jaw flicker. The narrowing of her eyes is barely seen. Regardless of both, I can feel her animosity. It pulses from her in waves as she straightens her shoulders and drops the long length of material to the floor.
I brace myself for the burst of enjoyment at her humiliation.
I wait, and wait, and fucking wait, my gaze holding hers, but the taste of victory doesn’t come. Instead, I’m the one who battles shame.