“This wasn’t fun for you.” Her eyes are concerned and she pats my shoulder, and that’s all I can take.
“No.” My voice is flat. “It wasn’t fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And with that I turn and rush back to my room. I want to call Ryan and scream at him, tell him that he can go fuck himself from now on, and how dare he treat me like something he can just throw away? He doesn’t have to love me. I don’t love him either.
But damn it, he sure as hell should have respected me.
I sit on my balcony for a while, silently fuming while I watch birds swoop through the air, a flock of ducks swim across the lake, and the sun hide behind clouds, then poke back out again.
How did I not see it? Am I too easy to trust? Or was I just blind, and assumed that he felt the same way that I did? Maybe I didn’t read between the lines during the times apart. My arrangement with Ryan worked for me because I’d consumed myself with work and family for so long, I wasn’t ready for anything more serious than friends with benefits. But I should have asked more questions. I should have paid more attention.
And maybe I’m being a little hard on myself and Ryan is just an asshole.
After a while, there’s a knock on my door, and I know exactly who it is. He couldn’t have come after me with a hundred women looking on, and I wouldn’t expect him to.
Hell, I don’t expect him to come after me at all.
Because as he’s said over and over, this is just professional, and I already know that he’s not the one for me, and the chemistry is just science.
Science is a bitch.
I stay where I am, rocking in my chair, even when he knocks again, and then for a third time.
“Charly! Open up.”
And just with those three words, I’m all pissed off again. So I march to the door and swing it open, glaring at him.
“You don’t have the right to be demanding with me.”
“You don’t have the right to lock me out,” he counters.
“Fuck yes, I do.” I stand on my tiptoes and stick my finger in his face. “You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not even my friend. You’re a man that I know, that’s it.”
“That’s not it,” he says, beginning to breathe hard.
“Just because you give a fuck, doesn’t mean that I owe you anything. Didn’t you just lecture a whole room full of women about just that?”
He pushes his fingers through his hair and paces away, then turns back to me.
“I just want to—”
“And where do you get off, anyway?” I interrupt, pacing around the room myself. “Your life isn’t all roses. You’re single!”
“Charly—”
“If you know everything about dating, why aren’t you doing it?” He props his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes on me, but I’m on a roll. “Are you one of those do as I say not as I do kind of people, Simon? Because I don’t see you with a ring on your finger.”
“You’re bloody pissing me off.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been bloody pissed all bloody day,” I reply and cross my arms over my chest. “And I don’t even know why you’re here! You keep repeating, like a broken record, that this is strictly professional and you’re not going to touch me, and blah blah blah, which is perfectly fine with me, mind you. But then you go out of your way to be nice to me. Or maybe you treat all of the clients like this.”
“You know better than that.”
“I don’t even think you like me very much.” Just like Ryan.
“What in the hell are you talking about? Of course I like you. I can’t fucking stay away from you!”
“That’s just chemistry,” I reply. “And trust me when I say that I’ve had my fill of that. It doesn’t mean anything other than my junk likes your junk.”
Now his lips twitch, and I can’t decide if I want to kick him or kiss him.
Let’s go with both.
“You haven’t seen my junk, love.”
“And what in the world is up with all of the love talk?”
“It’s a term of endearment. Now you’re just being difficult and stubborn.”
“Well, that’s who I am, Simon. I’m difficult and stubborn, and I’m no one to use terms of endearment on because I mean nothing to you.”
His nostrils flare as he marches toward me, letting the door slam behind him, and the next think I know, I’m in his arms and his lips are on mine. His hand glides up my back to fist in the back of my hair. He tips my head back to more easily assault my mouth, and I’m consumed by him.
Mercy, the man can kiss.
He whirls us around so he can boost me up against the wall, supporting me with his pelvis and the hard cock still confined in his pants.
His very impressive cock.
My hands are everywhere, in his hair, over his shoulders, his back. I want his clothes off, now.
I grip the hem of his shirt and tug up. He leans back long enough for me to lift it over his head and throw it on the floor, and I’m stunned. The tattoo on his left arm covers the ball of his shoulder. I lean in and place a kiss there, where it ends, then bite his neck gently.
“If you’re going to bite, fucking bite,” he growls, and I comply, sucking the skin in my mouth and biting hard.
“Jesus,” he groans and lifts my chin to devour my mouth again. He nibbles the edge of my lip before kissing me deeply. His hands are pressing into my ass firmly, most likely causing bruises on the skin.
I can’t wait to see them later.