Waiting For Me Read online

  Her eyebrows lifted. “What?”

  “Who hurt you?”

  A smile teased her lips as she eyeballed me, the tears a faint memory. “What is this? You coming to my rescue?”

  Her words cut through the fog of testosterone and I shrugged a shoulder, readjusting my shades. “Just curious.”

  “Uh huh.” Her smile faded. “Why do you care? I'm sure the women you sleep with then discard don't walk away unscathed.”

  Almost on cue, my phone flashed with a text notification. I knew exactly who it was. One such woman that Melissa referenced. It was safer to keep my shades on, to keep some barrier between us, but I pulled them off anyway. I needed Melissa to see I was real, and nothing like the man that brought tears to her eyes.

  “Perhaps, but I'm always upfront with the women I sleep with. Sex is just that—sex.” I brought a hand to her cheek, my thumb stroking her gently. “I think the man behind those tears made promises that he broke.”

  Her crystal blue eyes were liquid as she tightened her jaw to rock. “And what promises will you break?”

  “To you? Not a single one.”

  Her chin trembled, but my little fighter didn't loosen her grip on my eyes, trying to weed out any indication that I was full of it. “And why should I believe you?”

  She had a point. I could tell her that I was different with her. That what we had was just as shock inducing to me, but those were just words.

  So I showed her.

  I took hold of the back of her neck and brought her to me. I wanted to pull her entire body into my lap, but I settled for claiming her lips. I stole the air from her lungs and inhaled her taste. My tongue stroked and plunged into her waiting mouth, running along every surface, dancing around hers and matching the moans she echoed, blow for blow. Words couldn't do the lust, the aching need, she inspired in me justice.

  But it was more than that. I wanted more than just to fuck her. I wanted to possess her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to lay her bare. Corrupt her...and save her.

  I wanted her to possess me.

  When I pulled back, her face was flushed with such sheer desire that I nearly ripped her seatbelt off and took her then and there. But just as easily as she became mine and let me in, she yanked the mask back in place.

  She flipped her blonde mane nonchalantly and turned back to the front. “So about that lunch...”

  My cock pouted, but two could play that game. I slipped on a mask of my own. One of indifference. A front that couldn’t be further from the truth. “We're almost there.”

  When she grunted an acknowledgment, I couldn’t resist the urge to make something very clear.

  “I need you to understand something about me.” My eyes never left the road, for the safety of us both, and the safety of what was left of my racing heart. “I wasn’t just giving you a line or trying to get into your pants when I said that I cared for you—”

  “But you want me to submit, right?”

  “Yes,” I bit off, frustrated that her hackles were already up before I could even get it all out. “I want you in every way. I want you to be my submissive and explore that part of you. But I won’t do either of us a disservice by forcing it on you. I won’t touch you, or pressure you, until you’re ready.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and unsure. “And what if I’m never ready?”

  “You will be,” I said. I had no doubt. It was an indisputable truth I would stake my wealth on. And my heart.

  “And then what?”

  “You’ll beg for me,” I smiled deviously, wondering just how wet she was from the way she shifted in her seat. A part of me longed to take back the promise and find out for myself, but I settled for stroking the length of her arm. When my touch drew to her hand, she flexed her fingers, the tiniest concession.

  It was only a matter of time.

  3

  ****

  I was used to commanding attention when I walked into a room. I towered over most people at 6’3 and daily runs and a slight addiction to lifting weights added solid muscle to my lean frame. Although the paparazzi hardly bothered me since the woman that made this R&R trip a necessity was no longer on my arms, eyes still perked in our direction nonetheless.

  Melissa squared her shoulders, still giving me the silent treatment after our tense discussion in the car, but questions were all over her face. I knew I’d promised otherwise, but my fingers skated down her spine, hand resting on her lower back. Fate worked in mysterious ways – if she would have obeyed me and wore the dress, I would have missed the delicious shudder of her breasts as she reacted to my touch. But in her T-shirt I had a perfect view of her arousal as her peaks pebbled behind the cotton fabric.

  She let out an indignant huff and crossed her arms against her chest. But she didn’t pull from my touch. This woman was an enigma, so wrapped up in being right, being in control that her little shows of defiance only made me want her more. I wanted to climb in her head, plunge inside her until I knew all her secrets.

  Secrets = attachment. Attachment = trouble.

  But there was no putting the genie back in the bottle. The damage was done and instead of switching to safe mode and keeping my distance, I found myself pulling closer. Even if she wasn’t ready to face our connection, what she was to me, and I was to her, I wanted everyone to know that the gorgeous blonde turning the brightest of reds was mine.

  The hostess went from smiling so big that I could see every bleached white tooth in her mouth to all but scowling when her star struck eyes evaluated Melissa and our intimate proximity. Delilah James was beloved by all, from working class mothers to tweens and socialites. When I began our casual relationship, I found their attachment endearing—until I ended our relationship. My company’s Twitter was bombed with death threats and sad smiley emoticons as her fans came to terms with the fact that we were done.

  Now if, I could just convince Delilah of that fact...

  “Mr. Mason.” The hostess was petite with dirty blonde locks pulled into a low braid. She moves from behind the stand with agile, feline-like prowess. Her eyes squared on Melissa with a predatory gleam in the narrowed, brown things. “New friend? I’m used to seeing you with D.”

  I almost smirked at the girl whipping out the nickname reserved for the select few that knew the Delilah beneath the glitz and the glamour. Not very many people knew the extent of her acting ability; her turn as everyone’s BFF was the role of her life. Delilah James loved herself too much to be a good friend or look out for anyone but number one, but she had this girl ready to attack and tear Melissa’s throat out for her perceived offense.

  But Melissa’s silence sucked all amusement from the situation. She might not be ready for the ‘s’ word, but we were certainly more than friends. Even though she’d gone stiff as a board, I rounded her waist and pulled her even closer. I challenged the hostess with a silence of my own. Blushing madly, she conceded.

  “I’m Jada! Let me show you to your table.” She bubbled on about the weather or her favorite items on the menu, the awkwardness a few minutes earlier a distant memory – for her, at least. Melissa was still mute and withdrawn. Once we were seated, I tried to lighten the mood. My eyes ripped her clothes off, suckling her hot little nipples and caressed her face like I meant it. At some point, I’d have to question my sanity, and how I could have fallen so hard for someone I just met, but losing myself in Melissa, living in the moment, was much more fun than playing therapist.

  She was purposefully shying away from my gaze, the cute flare in her cheeks telling me she wasn’t reading the menu she was intently skimming. I reached for her, an electric current cutting to the bone as I drew my finger across her knuckles. Her body was full of possibilities, places that I couldn’t wait to explore.

  “I’m starved,” I murmured. “But what I need isn’t on the menu.”

  She raised her eyes and I realized the flush in her cheeks wasn’t that of lust at all. She was an
gry.

  “I wonder if you used the same line on D,” she growled, each word sharper that the last. “Did it work? Did you make her believe that she was different and special?”

  I shifted in my seat. This didn’t look good. I could tell her the truth, that I tried to have more than a sexual relationship once, but it blew up in my face. I could tell her she was worth the risk, but my pride muted what was in my heart.

  Jada flitted over to our table, buying me a few more minutes. “What can I get you to drink?” She directed her question, and breasts, in my direction. I guess it was progress. She wasn’t holding on to my fictional fairy tale romance with Delilah, but she seemed to have forgotten that I came here with a date.

  I expected Melissa to give her a piece of her mind, but she just smiled sweetly. “I’ll take a vodka and cranberry.” The smile turned poisonous when tossed her darkened gaze back at me. “I want to be good and ready when my ‘friend’ tells me another lie.”

  I asked for the same and when Jada sauntered off to get our drinks, I got serious. “I know you think this is all a game to me, that I move women around like chess pieces, but it’s more complicated than that.”

  She arched her brow, like I’d just contested gravity of that up was up and down was down. “That’s just the thing. It’s not complicated. From the beginning, you told me you didn’t do cuddling. I’m the one that thought—” She stopped hard, hitting some obstacle she couldn’t conquer.

  Many women had tried to decipher my code, discover what made me tick so my heart would beat for them. My rules, my structure, my need to control always superseded my need for companionship. I didn’t need to confide in them; I had no interest in spilling the guts of an unhappy childhood. It was too messy. Romance was too messy. But domination? It came to me as easily as breathing.

  In that space, I took the reins, or if my sub was really kinky, the whip. There was something cathartic about having someone trust me so wholly and completely. To give them beautiful pain and pleasure. To find that dark beauty behind closed doors. But the bedroom was miles and miles away. There was no safe words here. Melissa was hurting, and not because she was over my knee or tied to my bed. I wasn’t ready to get into the colossal mistake getting involved with Delilah James was, but I wasn’t willing to let her believe that what we had was some throw away tryst, either.

  “The last time I attempted to do—” I wasn’t sure what to call it, so I just gestured between us. “It resulted in a disaster that spilled into my professional life. I don’t want to lie to you, or lead you on.” I locked eyes with her. “I’m reluctant to let you in. To let anyone in. If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that people disappoint you.”

  Her eyes softened in a silent acknowledgement that she understood that all too well. “So you think you’ll disappoint me?”

  I knew what the right answer was. Hell no, or some sort of grand proclamation of how I’d rather die than bring her pain. But wasn’t that true of everyone? Only a true asshole goes into a relationship with ill intent. But the truth, that falling for me tended to lead to a broken heart, was a truth I wasn’t ready to utter. I didn’t want to lose her.

  “I think we should take it one step at a time.”

  She made a face. “Well, we’re already doing it backward. We slept together, and I know next to nothing about you.”

  A smile fluttered over my lips. “I wouldn’t say we know next to nothing about each other.”

  The delicious pink returned to her cheeks. “You know what I mean.”

  I did, but I had every intention of making her squirm. Reminding her about the sounds she made as I touched her. Making her wet while she sat across from me, getting hotter, wondering if I was getting harder with every passing breath. Fuck, I was dying to be back inside her...

  “And I have a Perrier and a vodka cranberry,” Jada chirped. She unceremoniously plunked Melissa’s drink in front of her, then gave me the 5-star treatment. She brandished the bottle like a game show presenter, then slowly cracked the tab and emptied the contents into my glass. I gave her a curt nod and returned my attention where it belonged. Melissa used the interruption to show renewed interest in the menu.

  I remedied that. “Jada, we’ll take two of the Kobe burgers, mid rare, with all the trimmings. Fries for me and, for the missus?”

  Melissa glared at me, closing her menu. “Fries for me as well.”

  Jada skated off to put in our orders, and I studied the annoyed woman eyeballing me like she wished she had something sharper than a butter knife.

  “How did you know I didn’t want the salad?”

  “Because no one really wants the salad,” I answered simply. “The salad is about appearances. And like you said, we’re doing this backward. No need to impress me with how little you can eat.” I winked at her. “I’m already thoroughly impressed by you.”

  I expected an eye roll, anything leading up to her flinging her drink in my face. Instead, she peered at me strangely. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend that you’re some sex crazed maniac.”

  “Because I am a sex crazed maniac.” I said, voice smooth as sin. Almost hiding something else beneath the confidence. From the curious tilt of her head, I didn’t do that great of a job.

  “I know your sexuality is a huge part of who you are, but it’s not all of you. It can’t be.” Before I could make a snappy comeback, she hopped up from the table, searching out a restroom. I watched her go, taking the fight in me with her. Letting Melissa in was a risk, but something inside told me that she’d already snuck past my defenses. As soon as she got back, I’d be serious. I’d get as close to vulnerable as man like me could get, and I’d let the chips fall where they may.

  Melissa returned, her hair a little sleeker, lips glossier than I remembered.

  I flashed her a smile and much to my surprise, and answering one crept across her lips. She lowered herself into her seat and tried to cover my small victory by taking a sip of her drink.

  “Ask me anything.”

  She nearly choked. “What?”

  “You want to know who I am outside of the bedroom. Ask me anything, and I’ll answer your questions.”

  She contemplated it. “Without snark?”

  “Well, now you’re going too far,” I grinned.

  She threw daggers, but her lips twitched with a repressed smile. She fondled her napkin. “Anything?”

  “Anything.” I confirmed. When she dredged her eyes up, something in the blue made me regret my offer. We were about to take a trip into the past, one of my least favorite destinations. Instead, she surprised me.

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  I frowned. “My...favorite color?”

  She raised her eyebrows expectantly. “You said anything.”

  I chuckled. “Fair enough. Blue.”

  She rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. “Like my eyes, right? Always the charmer.”

  “Not quite.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Don’t get me wrong, your eyes are gorgeous. But I mean more of a navy blue. Like the night sky that surrounds a full moon.” I cleared my throat. “How about you?”

  She was still digesting my response, her eyes zeroing in on me like lasers. After a long, awkward silence, she answered, “Red. Like roses. Roses were my mother’s...” She stopped, the color draining from her face.

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” I said softly, putting two and two together. I felt like I should say something more; hold her hand, comfort her, but I was never good with loss and condolences.

  Her shrug let me off the hook. “Everybody dies. Some just sooner than they were supposed to.” Her jaw tightened. “Who is D?”

  I groaned, the question I’d expected rearing its ugly head. “Delilah is a woman I saw briefly—”

  “Delilah?” Melissa interrupted. “There’s only two Delilah’s I’ve ever heard of. The one from the Bible, and the famous one that’s splashed on every magaz
ine cover and blog these days.”

  “That’s the one.” I said wearily, leaning back in my seat. Melissa’s eyes bugged out of her skull and I let out a bitter chuckle. “Let me guess—you’re a fan.”

  She shook her head slowly. “No, but you can’t escape her. I thought she was dating some billionaire?”

  I polished off my water, then realized maybe I should have offered it to Melissa because she looked faint.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  4

  ****

  I watched her out on the sand, her blonde hair whipping in the breeze. My stomach protested, the restaurant only a few feet away. Lunch was forgotten, as far as Melissa was concerned. When most women discovered I was worth billions, their whole demeanor changed. Their smiles grew wider. Hungry. Their eyes glittered like all the diamonds they saw in their crystal ball. Melissa’s demeanor changed too: her lips curdled and she recoiled in horror when I reached for her. Before I could get another word out, she said she needed air.

  There she was, close, but so far from me. I couldn’t read her. I couldn’t get inside her head and it was driving me crazy. My ability to size up a person, know their motivations, what made them tick and what made them crack, was a skill I’d turned into an art. When I was a kid, wearing mismatched hand-me-down clothes and sneakers with holes, snickering was a part of my daily life. One particularly cruel kid liked to ask me where I went shopping. One day, my answer was, ‘Ask your mom’ (not my wittiest come back). My reply was met with shock, then rage. But I had a rage of my own. Something dark that had been nurtured since the first time a foster family sent me back. Every time I was passed around like a hot potato through the system, my mother’s words cut into me.

  No one will ever want you.

  I blacked out until someone pulled me off of the kid. When we went down, ‘Fight! Fight!’ chants echoed around us, roaring as loudly as the blood in my ears. But the whole world was silent, mute. I looked down and saw why. The boy’s face and my knuckles were covered in blood.