Talking Dirty with the CEO

chapter Ten


The party was in full swing, a number of her parents’ rich friends already gathered in the formal lounge. Waiters moved among the partygoers with trays of canapés and champagne. Probably the most expensive champagne. Nothing but the best for her mother, after all. There was even a string quartet playing.

It was a sight that, a couple of weeks ago, would have made her sick.

But now, as she and Joseph entered the room, all her earlier nerves seemed to have dropped away, the horrible feeling in her stomach gone.

He was holding her hand, his warm strong fingers laced with hers, and the words he’d spoken to her out in the car seemed to have lodged deep in her soul.

You’re strong and brave and beautiful. You’re perfect.

Just words. Just one man’s belief. And yet they’d given her a strength that all the steel-capped Doc Marten boots in the world couldn’t.

“Christie, darling!”

Helene St. John, picture-perfect in an expensive green silk cocktail outfit that matched her eyes, came forward to greet them. She kissed Christie on both cheeks, enveloping her in a wave of soft perfume. “You’re a bit late of course but being fashionably late is the in thing, isn’t it?”

“Hi Mum,” Christie said. Joseph’s fingers tightened around hers, a subtle reminder. And something inside her became even stronger.

Her mother waved a hand. “Oh, no, darling. Not mum. Sounds so old.” She cast a sidelong glance at Joseph, standing at Christie’s side, a tall, restless presence. “So I see you didn’t make him up after all. Introduce us, there’s a dear.” There was a flirtatious note in her voice. Helene playing the socialite again.

“This is Joseph. Joseph Ashton.”

Helene blinked, green eyes wide. “As in Ashton Technology?”

“Yes, Mrs. St. John. The very same.” Joseph smiled, dark and devastating.

“Mrs. St. John? Oh no, not that, either, please,” she simpered. “Makes me sound like my mother-in-law. Call me Helene.” Another flirtatious glance at him that made Christie cringe. “So you’re Christie’s…what do they call them these days? Boyfriend?”

Joseph’s smile didn’t falter. “I believe they call them lovers, Helene.”

Christie’s teeth sunk into her lip, a laugh bubbling in her throat at the look on her mother’s face.

Helene, clearly flustered, gave a false giggle. “Oh, how…lovely. Haven’t you done well for yourself, darling?”

Holding Joseph’s hand very firmly, Christie looked her mother in the eye. “Yes, haven’t I, Mum?”

The look in Helene’s eyes flickered for an instant at the firm, steady note in her daughter’s voice, her mouth pursing in disapproval. A frown appeared. “We’re privileged, I see. A dress instead of jeans. Lovely, darling. Though I’m not sure about that color on you. You have a tendency toward sallowness.”

And so it begins.

The rain of criticisms. Such mild complaints by themselves, but taken together they were the death of a thousand cuts. Making her feel so small and plain and ugly.

But not today. Because today she was beautiful. Today she was perfect.

“Actually, Mum, I thought the color looked good on me.”

“Oh no, sweetheart. Sorry, but it’s true. I know fashion has always been a bit of a challenge for you so take it from me.”

“May I respectfully disagree, Helene?” Joseph said from beside her. “I thought she looked beautiful in it.”

Another flustered expression passed over her mother’s face. “You did? But then you must admit, men don’t know much about fashion.” She gave him a condescending smile. “I bet you’d probably think Christie would look fabulous in a paper bag.”

“She would.” The smile that curved his mouth was pure wolf. “Though I prefer her in nothing at all.”

Christie felt herself blushing, alternating between embarrassment at Joseph’s frankness and pleasure at Helene’s shock. Her mother was never put off-balance or caught by surprise, and boy was Christie going to enjoy the moment.

It didn’t last of, course. Because Helene always had to have the last word.

Sure enough, she gave them both a fixed smile then said to Joseph, “You must let me introduce you to my husband, and Andrew, my son.” She made a beckoning motion and Christie realized that her father and brother had been hovering in the background for a while now, like courtiers waiting for the queen’s summons.

Helene began taking charge of the introductions while her father and Andrew fawned all over Joseph.

“Well, Christie, you never told me he was the Joseph Ashton,” Helene said as her father beamed, shaking Joseph’s hand. “How ever did you meet him? I didn’t think you moved in quite the same circles.”

Joseph answered before Christie could open her mouth. “She interviewed me for her magazine. And she was so articulate, so interesting, I couldn’t resist looking her up after the interview.” He raised his eyebrows at the rest of her family. “Do you know how talented this woman is?”

Mark, Christie’s father, gave him a faint disbelieving smile. “Talented?”

Joseph nodded slowly, as if to a child. “Yes. Extremely. Have you read any of her writing?” He didn’t wait for a response. “But of course you would have. She’s your daughter. You must be so proud of her.”

Helene blinked. “Naturally we’re proud of her. Aren’t we, Mark? Terribly, terribly proud.”

Oh yes. Proud. Sure they were.

It was so fake. Such a lie. They weren’t proud. They’d never been proud.

A sense of calm descended on Christie.

She’d been listening to this sort of stuff all her life. Always there was something wrong with her. Always something that didn’t quite meet the required expectations. Either with her appearance or her job or her choice of boyfriend or any one of a thousand other tiny things.

And she’d let them get away with it. Let them steadily undermine her confidence until there was nothing left. Armoring herself in her heavy-metal T-shirts and her steel-capped boots, pretending that she didn’t care.

All because deep down she was afraid that her family was right.

Well, she wasn’t afraid any longer. There wasn’t anything wrong with her. Hadn’t Joseph shown her that? He’d told her she was perfect. And now it was time to believe him.

“Stop it, Mum,” Christie said quietly, for the first time in her life the words coming out the way they were supposed to, not tangled up and stuttering.

Helene’s green eyes flicked back up to meet her daughter’s. “Stop? Stop what, darling?”

“Stop criticizing me.”

Her mother gave a laugh. “Criticizing you? Darling, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are. That’s all you’ve been doing my whole life.”

Silence.

“Now steady on, Chris.” Her father frowned at her. “I don’t think that’s quite right.”

Christie regarded her father, the calm spreading into a quiet strength she hadn’t known she possessed until this moment. “Isn’t it, Dad? Can you name even one of the articles I’ve written lately?”

“Well…I…of course…it’s…” her father muttered.

“Oh come on, Chris,” Andrew said, sounding bored. “You know no one’s interested in that computer stuff.”

“No, I know. None of you are.”

Helene touched her hair in a nervous-looking gesture. “What nonsense, darling. Anyway, you know me. I just like to point out a few things that you could improve on.”

Beside her, Christie could sense Joseph’s restlessness like static on her skin. He wanted to say something, she knew, but this wasn’t his fight. It was hers. She squeezed his hand. Hard. Then said to her family in the same level tone, “I don’t need improving.”

“Everyone needs—”

“No, Mum. I don’t.”

Helene’s jaw looked tight. “I’m just trying to help you, Christie.”

“Well, I don’t need help.” Christie lifted her chin, swept her gaze over them. “All you’re doing is making me feel small and plain and insignificant.”

Her mother’s eyes went wide, an odd expression crossing her face. Her father gaped like one of the slack-jawed zombies Christie liked to shoot in her games, his cheeks reddening as if he was embarrassed. Andrew scowled. He opened his mouth to speak, but Christie raised a sharp finger. “No, Andrew. I have something to say.”

Gratifyingly, her brother shut up.

“I know you’re not interested in the stuff that I am,” she went on firmly, a fierce edge entering her voice as she looked each of her family members in the eye. “I know you don’t care about it like I do. But I’m sick of feeling like I disappointed you. I’m sick of feeling like I don’t measure up. I have so many things to be proud of. And you know what? My family isn’t one of those things.” She took a breath. “I always wanted to be one of you. To feel like I fit in. But right now I’m glad I don’t. Because I’m really disappointed in you. You all kind of suck.”

Her mother had gone quite pale, while her father spluttered. Her brother looked anywhere but at her.

“Thanks for the party invite, Mum,” she continued, remaining calm, “but I won’t be coming back here again until I get an apology for the way you’ve treated me all these years.” She gripped tight to Joseph’s hand. “Come on, Joseph. I don’t think we need to stay.”

A surge of adrenaline went through her, making her want to tremble. But not from fear this time. This time it was all about satisfaction.

And as she turned and left her shocked family standing there gaping, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

For the first time in years she felt free.

…

Joseph followed Christie down the expansive hallway and out onto the veranda, where there were some steps leading down to the driveway and the scent of wisteria in the air. Then he stopped and, unable to help himself, pulled her back against him.

“You,” he murmured into her ear, “were amazing.”

Because she was. Strong and calm, laying down the law. Telling her family what she thought of them and their behavior. Telling them that she was disappointed in them.

Magnificent. Absolutely bloody magnificent.

Christie turned, her cheeks pink, the sparkle of triumph in her eyes. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to say those things.”

“So why haven’t you before?”

“Oh, because I could never seem to get them out.” She flushed. “You’ve heard me stutter, right? Well, Mum would start criticizing me and I’d try to tell her to stop, but all the words would get caught up inside my head. I’d start stammering and stuttering, being pathetic. It was easier just to ignore it and walk away.”

Joseph raised her hand, her long, slender fingers laced with his. He kissed it, smiling at her. “I don’t believe you were ever pathetic, Christie St. John.”

Christie smiled back, so warm and open his chest ached. “Not now. Thanks to you.”

“Me? I didn’t do anything.”

“But you did.” She stepped close all of a sudden and he couldn’t smell the wisteria anymore, only her. Only lavender and musk and sweetness. “You made me believe in myself. I could never have faced them if it hadn’t been for you.”

Her face glowed bright with triumph and satisfaction, and he couldn’t stop himself from cupping it in his hands, stroking her delicate jaw with his thumbs. “Yes, you could. Don’t underestimate yourself. Surely you don’t need me to tell you that?”

She smiled, then rose up on her toes, brushing her mouth with his. “You could show me though. At home.”

He had the feeling then that he’d forgotten something. Missed something. But he couldn’t immediately figure out what it was. Hard to concentrate on anything else when Christie was in his arms, kissing him as though she couldn’t get enough.

“Then let’s go,” he said, dismissing the odd feeling.

The car journey was silent. He didn’t ask which home she wanted to go to—he took her to his. The bed was bigger, for a start.

In the elevator on the way up to his apartment, he got impatient, pulling her into his arms. And she didn’t hold back, meeting his kiss with her own. A kiss that tasted of sweetness and Christie. A kiss that exploded inside him like a stick of dynamite exposed to a match.

He pushed his hands into her hair, gripped the back of her neck, and deepened the kiss, tasting the soft heat of her mouth. Her fingers curled into his shirt and he felt the pull of the fabric.

God. Could he ever get sick of this?

The elevator pinged as they reached his floor and he released her, taking her hand, leading her to his apartment, then opening the door.

He headed immediately to the bedroom, but Christie pulled on his hand, making him turn back. Her pale face was flushed, eyes so green they looked like a meadow full of new grass.

“What is it?”

She didn’t say anything, merely tugging her hand from his grip and putting her fingers on his hips. Then she pushed him against the wall.

Joseph’s breath hitched. She was looking at him like she hadn’t eaten in weeks and he was a banquet she wanted to gorge on. “What are you doing, Naughtygirl?”

“I want to seduce you.” She leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his throat. Her mouth burned on his skin.

So unexpected, his guarded, insecure Naughtygirl. Except now she wasn’t guarded. Or insecure.

“Go ahead.” His voice sounded rough as she began pulling open his shirt. “Give it your best shot.”

His voice caught as her hands slid over the bare skin of his chest. Her touch was light but not in any way hesitant. She caressed him, stroked him as if he were a work of art she’d been longing to touch. Desperate to take control and haul her off to bed, he nevertheless found himself staying where he was; her touch was gentle, soothing him while at the same time making him so hard he couldn’t think.

He looked down at her. She was staring raptly at the movement of her hands on his skin. Her mouth open, her lips wet from their kiss. Her face glowed pink with arousal, and a fierce determination burned in her gaze. A determination that made his desire coil tighter. She was a woman on a mission and intended to prove herself, that much was clear.

She kissed him, soft kisses all over his chest while her hands stroked, and he had to struggle to take a breath, a ball of emotion sitting hard behind his breastbone. Desire and something else, something deeper somehow, more complex.

The way she touched him, as though he was precious, made the feeling get heavier and heavier. Part of him wanted to throw her to the floor and take her to make the feeling go away, while another part wanted to be quiet and still and bask in those light, tantalizing caresses.

Her hands slid down, over the fly of his trousers, pressing him through the cloth, and he had to bite back a groan. “Christie.” Her name sounded rough, guttural.

She pulled open the button, undid the zipper, cool fingers pushing under the material of his boxers to curl around his aching cock, holding him.

“God…” His hands fisted at his sides as sensation rocketed through him, her fingers squeezing gently.

She stopped what she was doing. “Am I hurting you?”

Jesus Christ, was she serious? But that familiar crease was back between her eyebrows, a worried look on her face.

“No,” he managed to force out between gritted teeth. “But if you keep doing that, things could get embarrassing extremely quickly.”

Her fingers curled tighter and a small, satisfied smile turned her mouth. “Oh, good.” Then she leaned forward again, and he felt her tongue on his skin as she licked him like a kitten.

God, he loved this new confidence in her. The only problem was if she kept stroking him like that, he’d never be able to last.

She pushed aside his shirt and her hot mouth closed around his nipple. Joseph groaned as her teeth scraped his skin. “Naughtygirl,” he said roughly, “I’m sorry. But consider me seduced.”

Then he moved, turning her so she was up against the wall this time, and his hands were in her hair, pulling her head back, kissing her surprised mouth, tasting her heat and the essential, intoxicating flavor that was all Christie.

She gave a moan of protest, but he’d gotten past the stage of being able to let her have free rein. He wanted her with a need that bordered on desperation.

He pushed her dress up, the silk of it feeling rough in comparison with the smoothness of her thighs, then shoved aside the material of her panties. There was a tense moment when he had to grab his wallet for the condom he knew was in there—at least he hoped to Christ it was—but then he found the packet and it only took a couple of seconds to protect them both.

Then he lifted her against the wall, one leg hauled high around his waist, and he pushed into her tight, wet heat, her soft cry of pleasure in his ear.

The feel of her around him stunned him, and for a moment he couldn’t move, unable to do anything but stand there, trying to get his breath, trying to hold back. He shook with need, with the tight, desperate feeling in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

Her fingers cupped his face. “Joseph…” Her voice was soft and husky as she tilted his head. Then her mouth was on him, kissing him softly, gently. More kisses along his jaw, his cheek, and finally his mouth. Calming him. Soothing him.

And somehow he found the strength to move, slowly, deeply inside her. The kiss went on and on, becoming something so intense it hurt to breathe. But he didn’t want it to stop. Didn’t ever want it to stop.

She whispered his name, and then he found her green eyes staring into his. Full of an emotion he couldn’t have named even if he’d wanted to.

And he looked and kept looking, feeling the pleasure wind tighter and tighter until at last her lashes fluttered and she groaned, her body convulsing around him. Only then did he let himself go, the tide of sensation gathering him in, breaking over him, drowning him.

Long minutes later, he felt her fingers in his hair, stroking him, the scent of sex and Christie an intoxicating mix that already had him wanting more. So much more.

Even hours later, in the depths of the night, with her lying quiet and fast asleep beside him, Joseph still felt hungry for her. As if holding her, making love to her, wasn’t enough.

His arms tightened around her.

He should have been bored by now. Should have moved on to someone else. But he wasn’t bored and he realized he didn’t want to move on. He wanted to keep holding her. Keep exploring the fascinating landscape of her soul. Like discovering a new and interesting country, finding out the lay of the land, mapping hills and valleys, seeing places in the distance he wanted to visit. There was so much to learn about her.

And why couldn’t he? What was wrong with wanting that?

The past week had been amazing and he hadn’t felt even a hint of restlessness.

He could do this. He could try. He could be the man she deserved and more.

…

Christie woke the next morning with a peaceful feeling sitting inside her heart. She felt like a new person. As if a long-hidden wound inside of her had been healed and Joseph was the instrument of that healing.

Turning over, she reached automatically for him, only to find that the bed was empty.

Odd.

She sat up, looking around the room, but he wasn’t there.

Puzzled, Christie slid out of bed and did a quick reconnaissance of the whole apartment.

But Joseph wasn’t anywhere. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air.

Going back into the bedroom, she picked up her phone. Perhaps he’d left her an e-mail or a message or something.

But he hadn’t.

A vague unease settled in her stomach. Okay, so they hadn’t been going out long, but he’d never run out on her like this before. Never left her without any explanation at all.

Then again, maybe it was nothing. Maybe he’d gone out for a run or a bike ride. Or maybe he’d gone to get food or something.

She dressed and went into the kitchen to get coffee.

She’d wait a bit. He’d be back. She was sure of it.

But a couple of hours later he wasn’t, and her phone remained stubbornly silent.

It didn’t matter, right? At least it shouldn’t. Because this…whatever it was between them was only a casual thing. There’d been no promises on either side, no commitment. And if he wanted to take off after spending the night holding her in his arms then he could.

Yet no amount of telling herself that moved the huge boulder that sat right in the middle of her stomach. Or made her feel better when eventually she gave up waiting and went home.

…

Joseph stood outside Jude’s loft-style apartment and leaned on the doorbell, cursing himself all the while.

He’d woken up that morning, Christie’s warm weight in his arms, with that niggling sense that he’d forgotten something important. Instantly he’d reached for his phone and found, much to his annoyance, that once again he’d switched his reminders off. He’d done it the previous night, before getting to Christie’s parents’ place, because he hadn’t wanted to be disturbed. But as per usual, he’d forgotten to turn the reminders back on again.

Then the moment he’d switched them on, the phone had started vibrating like crazy and he’d seen what it was he’d forgotten.

Jude’s birthday. He was supposed to meet her for dinner last night.

He’d never forgotten her birthday before, never. He always did everything he could to remember it, and these days he’d thought it was so cemented in his brain he wouldn’t ever forget.

But he hadn’t counted on this crazy obsession with Christie St. John.

Shit. He couldn’t believe he’d stood Jude up. She was the only person in his life who’d put up with all the ADHD crap and stuck by him, when even their mother had given up on him as a bad job. Jude was important to him, and it hurt when he slipped up.

Joseph stabbed the doorbell again.

He should have left Christie an explanation for why he’d gone, but he hadn’t had the time. He hoped she’d understand. He’d have to tell her about the ADHD stuff, of course. Maybe he should have done it sooner, but he didn’t make a habit of spilling his guts about it because he hated the way it made people stick him in a box and put a big fat label on him. Plus it always sounded like an excuse and he hated that, too.

The door abruptly opened, Jude on the other side. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say.

Wordlessly, she gestured him inside.

In her light, airy living room, he paced while she made coffee, the restlessness so bad it felt like a million ants moving under his skin. With Christie it hadn’t felt this bad. In fact, when he was with her he felt almost settled. Calm.

But that was just the hyper-focus, right? The way he always got when he had a new idea or met a new person who interested him. He focused completely on it/them to the exclusion of everything else.

But not to the point of forgetting Jude’s birthday.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Hey, hey, what’s up?” Jude set the coffee down on the table. “You’re all hyped.”

“Nothing’s up.” He crossed over to the windows, turning and pacing back to the couch again. “Why should anything be up? I just missed your freaking birthday, no big deal, right?”

“It’s okay, Joe.”

“No, it’s not okay. It’s not bloody okay.” He turned, thrusting a hand through his hair, going over to the wall this time before turning yet again and moving restlessly to the windows. “That’s the one thing I never forget. Never, Jude.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “You need to go back on the meds?”

“No, shit no.” He hated the meds. They left him dull and tired and unable to think straight.

“So why all this anger? What were you doing last night?”

He tried to get a grip. “Nothing. I was…” He stopped, not wanting to tell her. Christ, it sounded so bad to say he’d gone to a party with a woman. But then he hated keeping stuff from Jude. “I was with someone.”

Her blue eyes were very direct. “Ah. A new someone?”

“The woman I met online.”

An expression of surprise crossed her face. “Again?”

“Yes, again. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh come on, Joe. Can you blame me?” Judith sat down on the couch, picked up her coffee. “She must be something special to warrant a second viewing.”

Actually, it was a lot more than a second viewing.

You’re the best boyfriend ever.

“She’s…different.”

Jude gazed at him from over the top of her coffee mug. “So what were you doing with her? Or is that something I don’t want to know?”

Joseph stopped in the middle of the room. He didn’t want to share what had happened with Christie at her parents’ place. That was Christie’s business, no one else’s. So he went with something more innocuous. “Would you believe we were rebuilding an old computer?”

“No. Seriously?”

“It’s true.” He frowned. “What?”

Jude was grinning. “You. Sitting there quietly building a computer with a lady friend.”

“Don’t.”

“What? It’s cute.”

He turned, uncomfortable with how defensive he felt about his time with Christie. “It’s not cute. There’s no way I should have forgotten to check my reminders. No way.”

“You were enjoying yourself that much, huh?”

Joseph stalked over to the windows. The view wasn’t anything to speak of, just the building next door, but he stared at it anyway.

Yes, he had enjoyed himself last night. Watching her come into her own in front of her parents. And not even just then, but every night he spent with her, whether it was talking about movies in bed or sitting next to her and chatting while messing around with electronics. The stuff he’d loved as a kid, hanging out in the kitchen, consumed by whatever had caught his fancy at the time, talking at his mother while she cooked or washed up or did whatever it was mothers did.

Until she told him to shut up and get the hell away from her because she couldn’t stand his constant interruptions.

“You know,” Jude said softly, “I’d much rather you forgot my birthday because you were enjoying being with someone special instead of partying with one of your factory dolls.”

“She’s not…” He couldn’t complete the denial, falling over it and coming to a stop.

“Ah.” Jude sighed. “What a lot of crap, Joe. That’s why you’re so agitated. It’s not just because you forgot my birthday. You forgot my birthday because you liked being with her and you’re pissed off about it.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned around. There was no point in denying it. He’d offered to be her boyfriend, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t do that for women he felt nothing for.

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s special.” And this time it was easy to say.

Too special for a guy like you.

A cold hand closed around his heart.

Last night he’d thought he could be the man she needed. The man she deserved. And she deserved everything. Someone patient. Someone reliable. Someone who wouldn’t get distracted. Someone calm and steady, who would support her. Someone who would never let her down.

Well, he wasn’t that someone. He would never be that someone.

One day, at some point, at some time, he would let her down. Because that’s what he did. It didn’t seem to matter how important the person was to him, there was always a moment where he’d forget, where he’d get distracted, where he’d dismiss something important, deeming it unimportant. Where he’d forget himself and hurt someone.

Like Jude. And Jude put up with it because she had no choice. Because he was her brother.

But Christie wasn’t. And he had to make a different choice for her.

“Are you going to see her again?”

Joseph stared at the wall of the building next door. Unseeing.

He would break it off with Christie. Before he let her down. Before he hurt her. It was the best decision. An easy decision.

“No,” he said, having to force out the words because they were surprisingly difficult to say. “Not again.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because there’s no future in it. You know me, Jude. I’m not a relationship kind of guy.” And he wasn’t. Not for anyone.

“Ah, that old excuse.”

“It’s not an—”

“Bullshit.” She pushed away her cup all of a sudden. “We both know it is. The ADHD is a convenient excuse to cover the fact that you’re just damn scared.”

His slowly simmering anger came to a boil in furious denial. He swung around to face her. “Tell me you weren’t hurt last night. Tell me it didn’t matter that I didn’t turn up for dinner. That you didn’t care.”

Her jaw went tight and he had his answer.

“Yeah, I thought so. I know you understand—shit, you’re the only person who does. But it still hurts when I make a mistake, and I know that. I hate doing that to you. I hate messing up with people I care about. So call me scared if you want to, but you’ll have to forgive me for not wanting to put either myself or someone else through all the crap I put you through.”

Especially not someone like Christie.

“Okay,” she said. “Have it your way. But don’t do anything you’ll regret, Joe.” She looked at him. “I know you won’t believe this, but sometimes you’re actually worth the hurt.”

No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t worth shit.

But Christie was.

And if she ended up getting hurt because of him, he’d never forgive himself.