She fell forward, collapsing onto my pillows, her wild black hair spreading across her body.
A second later I was next to her.
“I can’t move,” she said.
I knew the feeling. “Then don’t.”
Blood pounded in my ears and I wasn’t sure if it was her panting or mine that filled the room.
“I need to pee,” she said, eventually.
“Yeah, you better get up, that is not my kink.”
She giggled and I smiled. I liked that I made her laugh for some reason. Maybe because her smile was so beautiful. I liked that I could induce it.
She pulled herself up, and made her way to the bathroom. “Hey, Scarlett, the door.” She hadn’t shut it, but she ignored me.
The toilet flushed and the faucet squeaked and she reappeared. “Those things we just did, and you’re worried about me shutting the bathroom door?” She smiled and shook her head.
Well, when she put it like that . . . It was just that I wasn’t used to people being in my space. It was weird to see someone padding around my bedroom, peeing in my bathroom. She climbed back onto the bed and collapsed in the same spot she’d just left—on her side, facing me.
She mumbled as I covered us both with a blanket.
“What did you say?” It sounded like more than thank you.
She lifted her head from the pillow. “Violet was right.”
This was why I didn’t have sleepovers. I wasn’t good at small talk with women. “She was?”
Her eyes slid shut as she nodded. “She said it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. And it wasn’t.”
I scooted down the bed so I was mirroring her. “What wasn’t bad?”
She let out a sigh as she spoke. “The sex.”
“What?” I pushed up onto my hand. Had I heard her right?
Scarlett’s eyes opened, wide and startled. “What?”
“You expected sex with me to be bad?”
She grinned and shut her eyes. “Shhh. No, silly.”
Had I missed something? I lay back down, tempted to ask her what she meant but not wanting to share anything more. I already knew more about Scarlett than I did most of the women I fucked.
She took a deep breath and then said, “First sex after the divorce. She said I just needed to get it done.”
That pinched more than it should have. She’d just been getting it done with me? It wasn’t that bad? Jesus, maybe I was losing my touch—I thought we’d been phenomenal.
She shuffled closer and put her hand on my chest. Instinctively, I placed my palm over hers. Normally, I’d have left by now. I wouldn’t have stuck around to hear the reasons a woman had slept with me. I guess I’d always assumed it was my charm and good looks—that it was me that they wanted to sleep with rather than just someone. Maybe I was the asshole that John said I was.
Well, I’d prove that we were more than just getting it done. Soon, I’d be ready for the next round and I was determined I would stop her thinking about anything other than how good I made her feel.
Four
Ryder
I had far too many plates spinning.
A night of a lot of phenomenal sex and not much sleep left my brain a little fuzzy.
I liked a full workload. But things were getting out of control. Despite numerous phone calls with lawyers and trustees, at the moment, Frederick was likely to end up my boss if my grandfather died. I needed to find new office space and Cecily Fragrance was pushing back on our offer, even though it was more than generous.
And then there was last night and Scarlett.
“What’s got you in such a bitchy mood?” John, my finance director, highest paid employee and best friend since college, asked as he stood in front of my desk, while I was trying to find a file I couldn’t even remember the name of.
“You’re the finance guy; you’re supposed to know everything. You figure it out,” I snapped as he took a seat opposite me.
It was true what they say about the more powerful and successful you are, the less people tell you the truth. And I’d seen how many businesses that destroyed. Employing John was one of the first things I’d done, and he’d given me shit from the moment he started.
I loved him for it. Mostly.
No matter how big the Westbury Group got, or how much money I made, John always told me the truth.
I slumped into my office chair, a stack of papers on my desk spilling onto the floor. John raised his eyebrows. He was right. I was in a bitchy mood.
“I think I got used for sex last night.”
John covered his mouth as he guffawed like a teenager discovering porn in his dad’s closet.
I sighed so deep I wheezed. “Fuck you.”
“No, apparently, you’re the one getting fucked these days.”
I shrugged. “I think I was like the first sex after her divorce or something.” She’d told me as much and I’d lain awake most of the night, thinking up questions that I never asked her.
Had she ever cheated on her husband?
Was Violet her only sister?
Why did she get divorced?
Was she still sleeping with her husband up until the divorce?
How did he compare with me?
I mean, she came like a train. But maybe she had with him too. For some reason, this girl had gotten under my skin. Maybe it was because she’d seemed nervous before we’d gotten to my apartment but almost overfamiliar in the way she peed with the door open and seemed to tell me everything she was thinking.
“You mean you actually spoke to this one?” John asked, still grinning.
I narrowed my eyes at him. But he was right. Not that I never spoke to the women I fucked, because of course I did. How else would I get them into bed? It took more than my pretty face.
I just never really listened to what women said, never thought about their motivation. I was getting what I wanted, after all.
And my focus was always right there, in the moment. Not just on me. I wasn’t a completely selfish dickhead. I wanted the women I fucked to have a good time, too. But I guess their enjoyment fed my ego too. But I didn’t think beyond that room, beyond that moment. I didn’t think about the before or the after. Scarlett had pushed me out of my carefully constructed reality. Just a little.
“Has it ever happened to you?” I asked.
Scarlett had gotten up halfway through the night and headed out. I’d pretended to be asleep.
“Been used for sex?” John asked. “I can only hope so. Why do you care that these women stupidly sleep with you?”
I’d always assumed the women I seduced wanted to fuck me, but now I wondered if anyone would have been enough for Miss King. Was I simply the service provider? A glorified town car?
Wasn’t that one step away from male prostitution?
“I can see your imagination setting off fireworks. Are you seriously wound up by this girl?” he asked.
“Not wound up, no. Just . . . ” How did I feel? Irritated? No, that wasn’t it. More a little thrown off balance, a little intrigued by her.
“Call her. See if she agrees to a date. Then you’ll know if she was just using you for your body.”