This Man
Page 88
‘To keep you,’
He wants to keep me? What? For sex or more? I don’t ask that, though. ‘What if I don’t want to be kept?’ I ask instead.
‘But you do, by me. This is why I’m having such a hard time trying to figure out why you keep fighting me off.’ He returns his attention to my diary and sets about putting a line through every day for the rest of the academic year.
When he reaches the end, he slams it shut and stands. His confidence knows no bounds. And how does he know I want to be kept by him? Maybe, I don’t. Christ, I’m trying to lie to myself now. I’m going to have to buy a new dairy. I mentally applaud myself for backing up my appointments on my email calendar, a precautionary measure in case I lost my diary, not because some unreasonable control freak might erase them all from my planner.
‘What time will you be finished work?’ he asks.
‘Six-ish,’ I can’t believe I’ve just answered that without a second’s hesitation.
‘-ish,’ he mouths, putting his hand out over my desk. He wants me to shake his hand? I reach up, mentally demanding my hand not to tremble, and place it gently in his. The familiar fizzle flies through me when our hands connect, his fingers brushing gently over my wrist as he slowly strokes down the centre of my palm.
My eyes fly up to his. ‘See?’ he whispers, before pulling away and striding out of my office, collecting an envelope from Sally’s outstretched hand on the way.
Holy fucking hell! My heart is convulsing in my chest, and I’m breaking out in an uncomfortable sweat as I sit at my desk, frantically fanning my burning face with my coffee coaster. How does he do these things to me? Tom looks over at me with wide eyes and a whoa stare. I blow out a long, lung full of air in an attempt to regulate my hammering heart. He wants to keep me? What? Keep me and control me, keep me to love me or keep me to fuck me senseless? He’s already fucked me pretty senseless. He must have, because I keep going back for more. No, I don’t keep going back. I keep getting forced back. Is he forcing me, or do I go willingly? Oh, I don’t even know anymore. Oh Lord, I’m a fucking mess!
I start folding away my drawings of The Life Building before pulling my email calendar up so I can start transferring my appointments back into my diary.
Oh, I’m in some major deep shit. But he’s totally right...I do want to be kept by him. I’m completely addicted.
I need him.
Chapter 28
I’m the last to leave the office. I set the alarm, lock the office door behind me and jump out of my skin when I hear the familiar scream of a high powered engine. I turn around, seeing Jesse pull up to the kerb on his bike. I sigh, my shoulders slumping dramatically. I don’t even know if I’m pissed anymore. Mental exhaustion has engulfed me. But I do know that I’m grateful Patrick has already left the building.
He takes his helmet off, dismounts from his bike and approaches me looking like he’s had a perfectly normal day. I feel defeated as I look up at him.
‘Good day at work?’ he asks.
I gape. He’s so thick skinned. ‘Not really.’ I answer on a frown, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
He observes me for a while, chewing his bottom lip, the cogs kicking into action. I hope he’s thinking about how unreasonable he’s been.
‘Can I make it better?’ he asks as he reaches for my arm and slides his warm palm down until he’s clasping my hand.
‘I don’t know, can you?’
‘I think I definitely can.’ He smiles, and I drop my head. ‘I’ll always make it better, remember that.’ he adds confidently.
I give myself whiplash when I snap my head up to look at him. ‘But you made it shitty in the first place!’
He pouts, hanging his head. I think he’s ashamed. Good. He should be. ‘I can’t help it.’ He shrugs guiltily.
‘Of course you can!’ I exclaim.
‘No, with you, I can’t help it,’ he states in a matter-of-fact tone – a tone that suggests he completely gets it. I, however, never will. ‘Come here.’ He pulls me over to his bike and presents me with a large paper bag.
‘What’s this?’ I ask, looking into the bag.
‘You’ll need them.’ He reaches into the bag and pulls out a pile of black leather.
Oh, no! ‘Jesse, I’m not getting on that thing.’
He ignores me, unfolding the trousers and kneeling in front of me, holding them open for me to step into. He taps my ankle. ‘On.’
‘No!’ He can give me a sense fuck or the countdown all he likes – it’s not happening. No way. Hell will freeze over. He’s trampled all over my day, and now he wants to kill me on that death trap?
He heaves a tired breath and rises to his feet. ‘Listen to me, lady.’ He cups my cheek with his palm. ‘Do you honestly think I would let anything happen to you?’
I look at his soft eyes, clearly trying to reassure me. No, I don’t think he would let anything happen to me, but what about all of the other road users? They don’t give a toss about little old me on the back of that death trap. I’ll fall off, I know it.
‘They scare me.’ I admit. I’m such a baby.
He bends down, getting nose to nose with me, his minty breath soothing me. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘Yes.’ I answer immediately. I trust him with my life. It’s my sanity I don’t trust him with.
He nods, dropping a kiss on the end of my nose before kneeling back down in front of me. I lift my foot when he taps my ankle, my heart flickering with nervousness as he removes my ballet pumps, feeds my feet into the trousers and pulls the leathers up my body, fastening them swiftly. Next, he collects a fitted, leather jacket and takes my bag before putting the jacket on me, followed by a pair of boots.
‘Take the pins out your hair.’ he orders, putting my pumps and my new taboo dress in my oversized work bag. I’m surprised he didn’t throw it to the ground and trample all over it.
I reach up and start removing my grips. ‘Where are your leathers?’
‘I don’t need them.’
‘Why, are you indestructible?’
He holds the helmet above my head. ‘No, lady, self-destructible.’
Huh? ‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing,’ He dismisses my question and pushes the helmet onto my head, effectively shutting me up. He starts adjusting the chin strap, leaving me feeling like my head’s been squeezed into a condom. I flex my neck from side to side, and he flips the visor up.
‘You should wear protective clothing.’ I admonish him. ‘You’re making me.’
‘I’m not prepared to take any risks with you. Anyway...’ He smacks my arse, ‘you look fucking hot.’ He lengthens the strap on my bag, putting it across my body and around my back. ‘When I’m on, put your left foot on the peg and swing your right leg over, okay?’
I nod, and he puts his own helmet on. I watch, admiringly as he swings his long leg over, starts the bike and stands it up between his powerful thighs. I’m shitting myself. He looks at me as I stand on the pavement and nods his instruction for me to climb on. I reluctantly step forward, place my hand on his shoulder and follow through on his instructions, vaulting my right leg over, soon finding myself straddling his waist.
He wants to keep me? What? For sex or more? I don’t ask that, though. ‘What if I don’t want to be kept?’ I ask instead.
‘But you do, by me. This is why I’m having such a hard time trying to figure out why you keep fighting me off.’ He returns his attention to my diary and sets about putting a line through every day for the rest of the academic year.
When he reaches the end, he slams it shut and stands. His confidence knows no bounds. And how does he know I want to be kept by him? Maybe, I don’t. Christ, I’m trying to lie to myself now. I’m going to have to buy a new dairy. I mentally applaud myself for backing up my appointments on my email calendar, a precautionary measure in case I lost my diary, not because some unreasonable control freak might erase them all from my planner.
‘What time will you be finished work?’ he asks.
‘Six-ish,’ I can’t believe I’ve just answered that without a second’s hesitation.
‘-ish,’ he mouths, putting his hand out over my desk. He wants me to shake his hand? I reach up, mentally demanding my hand not to tremble, and place it gently in his. The familiar fizzle flies through me when our hands connect, his fingers brushing gently over my wrist as he slowly strokes down the centre of my palm.
My eyes fly up to his. ‘See?’ he whispers, before pulling away and striding out of my office, collecting an envelope from Sally’s outstretched hand on the way.
Holy fucking hell! My heart is convulsing in my chest, and I’m breaking out in an uncomfortable sweat as I sit at my desk, frantically fanning my burning face with my coffee coaster. How does he do these things to me? Tom looks over at me with wide eyes and a whoa stare. I blow out a long, lung full of air in an attempt to regulate my hammering heart. He wants to keep me? What? Keep me and control me, keep me to love me or keep me to fuck me senseless? He’s already fucked me pretty senseless. He must have, because I keep going back for more. No, I don’t keep going back. I keep getting forced back. Is he forcing me, or do I go willingly? Oh, I don’t even know anymore. Oh Lord, I’m a fucking mess!
I start folding away my drawings of The Life Building before pulling my email calendar up so I can start transferring my appointments back into my diary.
Oh, I’m in some major deep shit. But he’s totally right...I do want to be kept by him. I’m completely addicted.
I need him.
Chapter 28
I’m the last to leave the office. I set the alarm, lock the office door behind me and jump out of my skin when I hear the familiar scream of a high powered engine. I turn around, seeing Jesse pull up to the kerb on his bike. I sigh, my shoulders slumping dramatically. I don’t even know if I’m pissed anymore. Mental exhaustion has engulfed me. But I do know that I’m grateful Patrick has already left the building.
He takes his helmet off, dismounts from his bike and approaches me looking like he’s had a perfectly normal day. I feel defeated as I look up at him.
‘Good day at work?’ he asks.
I gape. He’s so thick skinned. ‘Not really.’ I answer on a frown, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
He observes me for a while, chewing his bottom lip, the cogs kicking into action. I hope he’s thinking about how unreasonable he’s been.
‘Can I make it better?’ he asks as he reaches for my arm and slides his warm palm down until he’s clasping my hand.
‘I don’t know, can you?’
‘I think I definitely can.’ He smiles, and I drop my head. ‘I’ll always make it better, remember that.’ he adds confidently.
I give myself whiplash when I snap my head up to look at him. ‘But you made it shitty in the first place!’
He pouts, hanging his head. I think he’s ashamed. Good. He should be. ‘I can’t help it.’ He shrugs guiltily.
‘Of course you can!’ I exclaim.
‘No, with you, I can’t help it,’ he states in a matter-of-fact tone – a tone that suggests he completely gets it. I, however, never will. ‘Come here.’ He pulls me over to his bike and presents me with a large paper bag.
‘What’s this?’ I ask, looking into the bag.
‘You’ll need them.’ He reaches into the bag and pulls out a pile of black leather.
Oh, no! ‘Jesse, I’m not getting on that thing.’
He ignores me, unfolding the trousers and kneeling in front of me, holding them open for me to step into. He taps my ankle. ‘On.’
‘No!’ He can give me a sense fuck or the countdown all he likes – it’s not happening. No way. Hell will freeze over. He’s trampled all over my day, and now he wants to kill me on that death trap?
He heaves a tired breath and rises to his feet. ‘Listen to me, lady.’ He cups my cheek with his palm. ‘Do you honestly think I would let anything happen to you?’
I look at his soft eyes, clearly trying to reassure me. No, I don’t think he would let anything happen to me, but what about all of the other road users? They don’t give a toss about little old me on the back of that death trap. I’ll fall off, I know it.
‘They scare me.’ I admit. I’m such a baby.
He bends down, getting nose to nose with me, his minty breath soothing me. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘Yes.’ I answer immediately. I trust him with my life. It’s my sanity I don’t trust him with.
He nods, dropping a kiss on the end of my nose before kneeling back down in front of me. I lift my foot when he taps my ankle, my heart flickering with nervousness as he removes my ballet pumps, feeds my feet into the trousers and pulls the leathers up my body, fastening them swiftly. Next, he collects a fitted, leather jacket and takes my bag before putting the jacket on me, followed by a pair of boots.
‘Take the pins out your hair.’ he orders, putting my pumps and my new taboo dress in my oversized work bag. I’m surprised he didn’t throw it to the ground and trample all over it.
I reach up and start removing my grips. ‘Where are your leathers?’
‘I don’t need them.’
‘Why, are you indestructible?’
He holds the helmet above my head. ‘No, lady, self-destructible.’
Huh? ‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing,’ He dismisses my question and pushes the helmet onto my head, effectively shutting me up. He starts adjusting the chin strap, leaving me feeling like my head’s been squeezed into a condom. I flex my neck from side to side, and he flips the visor up.
‘You should wear protective clothing.’ I admonish him. ‘You’re making me.’
‘I’m not prepared to take any risks with you. Anyway...’ He smacks my arse, ‘you look fucking hot.’ He lengthens the strap on my bag, putting it across my body and around my back. ‘When I’m on, put your left foot on the peg and swing your right leg over, okay?’
I nod, and he puts his own helmet on. I watch, admiringly as he swings his long leg over, starts the bike and stands it up between his powerful thighs. I’m shitting myself. He looks at me as I stand on the pavement and nods his instruction for me to climb on. I reluctantly step forward, place my hand on his shoulder and follow through on his instructions, vaulting my right leg over, soon finding myself straddling his waist.
