Alana
I HAVE NO idea where Darien is taking me for my birthday. Have to admit, it was nice of him to help me while I was drunk off my ass and that guy was going to take advantage of me.
Darien pulls up to a Wawa. “Do you need anything?” He kills the engine. I shake my head. He gets out of the car and disappears into the store.
What the hell am I doing? I’m sitting here in a nice-ass car that is as expensive as my college tuition with a smoking-hot man. I do like him, a ton. Darien gives off the vibe that he doesn’t give a crap what anyone says or thinks. When he walks in a room, he reeks of intimidation. But I don’t need any distractions, especially not from a pretty boy who will break my heart.
He strolls back to the car, turns on the ignition and drives off. We listen to Breaking Benjamin on the way to wherever the hell we are heading. An hour and a half later, it is three in the afternoon and we arrive at a white two-story house in Ocean City. The house is breathtaking, a traditional home with a chestnut wood porch wrapped around the house. Two rocking chairs sit by the screen door, there’s black roofing, and a black metal star sculpture sits in the middle of the house.
“Where are we?” I ask as we get out of the car.
“One of my homes.”
Instead of going inside of the beautiful home, I follow him to a white yacht that is attached to a dock. I stop in mid-step, and he turns to look at me. Light yellow sand covers my shoes. The cool breeze from the ocean tickles my cheeks.
“Thought we could sail for your birthday,” he murmurs.
“You own this boat too?”
He nods.
Inside the yacht is beautiful. He gives me a tour. A wet bar. Baby-blue walls in the bedroom, a bedroom suite made out of chestnut wood. Up-to-date kitchen and spacious living room. It looks like a well-furnished apartment, not a boat. As we make our way outside, a Jacuzzi and a mini-grill are on the deck. I lean over the rail, admiring the beauty of the teal ocean. The waves crash against the hull and seagulls screech as they hover over the water.
“Beautiful,” I murmur.
“Yeah, she is.” He smirks. My cheeks heat up. I turn to face him and his chest rises and falls. He stands so close to me that the heat radiates from his body. “You want to learn how to sail?”
“Really?” I squeal.
“Yeah, come on.” He grabs my hand and leads me to a little deck with two beige seats overlooking the sea. There are three screens above the steering wheel. Darien sets the seat back and sits in front of the steering wheel. He explains to me what each screen is. One screen is for navigation, another one picks up sea animals, and the other contacts the Coast Guard just in case we get stranded. He straddles me on his lap. I stiffen as he clasps my hand on the steering wheel, resting his chin on my shoulder. Goose bumps sprout on my skin and my heart beats loud in my ears.
“The ocean is like a relationship,” he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. “It has waves that crash, but when it is calm and peaceful, it’s the most beautiful thing to admire.”
As I turn to glance at him, our faces are inches away. My breath hitches and I swallow hard. My gaze lingers on his plump red lips. The smell of his cologne isn’t helping—he smells intoxicating.
“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Edgar Allen Poe,” I tease.
I turn my torso, and my breasts are pressed against his hard chest. My nipples are so hard, they could cut through the cotton fabric.
Darien grabs my hair, pulling gently, tilting my chin back. His lips cover mine and he slides his tongue into my mouth. We kiss each other like two hungry animals ready to tear each other apart. Mint flavors his tongue and his expensive cologne smells divine. My pussy salivates. The kiss is rough but passionate, demanding. Everything I thought it would be and more. Tate doesn’t kiss me like that, and for the first time since my divorce, my soul feels alive.
As I pull away, my hair stands up on the back of my neck and I slide into the seat next to his. The tension between us is making it hard to breathe. I know he can feel it too, the want and need crawling between us, ready to explode. And dammit, butterflies dances in my stomach. Yep, I’m feeling the guy.
He rubs his hands on my thighs and squeezes gently. Darien is going to ruin me. He is the type of asshole who’s going to set fire to my heart, and if I’m not careful, I will have to sweep up the ashes. After Charles broke my heart, I had to repair it, sew it back together, love it and take back ownership of it. I will never let another man break me the way Charles did.
“How did you learn to sail?” I ask, propping my feet on his lap. He hits a button on the control panel and unlaces my pink Converse, tossing them to the lime-green linoleum with a thud. He slides my Wonder Woman sock off and places it on the back of the seat.
“You really are a nerd,” he murmurs as he places both of his thumbs on the ball of my foot and massages. I moan as he works his way to my heel.
“Answer my question, Darien Casey,” I manage to say.
“My father taught me. He used to take me on his boat when I w—”
“Aww, yeah, right there,” I draw out. He presses harder on the top of my foot below my toes.
“—was a kid. My father was a fisherman, and he sold fish to the locals. He owns a fish market.” He places my foot on the cold floor and picks up my other foot, repeating the same motion.
“Are you and your dad close?” I ask as he plays with my toes. I giggle a little. Glad I got a pedicure and got them painted black.
He nods and continues to massage my foot.
“I like you a ton,” I blurt out and place my hand over my mouth. When I look out at the sea, it’s calm and quiet, and the sun sets on the ocean, creating a pale-purple and orange sky. I gaze at the control panel, focusing on the blue blinky light. I like him more than I want to. I have feelings for the wrong guy.
He tilts my chin, and I look into his eyes and my breath hitches.
“I like you, too.”
D: I have a proposition for you.
I read Darien’s text a few times and set my phone face down on the desk. Wonder what kind of proposition he has for me? I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday night when we went to Ocean City. We spent the night at his boat. He slept on the couch, and I slept in the bedroom. Sunday, back at home, I stayed in and watched Shameless and ate chocolate ice cream. It’s Monday. I’m sitting at my desk, reading Gunner’s e-mail, sorting out what is junk and what is important, and squeezing in meetings with shareholders.
Gunner knocks on my door and tells me to book him a flight to Los Angeles. I grab my phone from my dark brown L-shaped desk and text Darien.
Me: How did u get my number?
D: I used your phone to call mine.
Me: Smh. Did you upload any dick pics to my phone? What kind of proposition?
D: Lol. Why upload pics when you can have the real thing? Come over and find out.
Me: Will you feed me?
D: I’ll feed you all the come you want.
Me: I meant food. Ho.
D: Yeah. LOL. Come by my place at seven, we’ll have dinner.
Me: C U then.
Crystal stands in the doorway, and I tell her to close the door behind her. She looks like shit. Her eyes are red and swollen, her pale cheeks are red, and there are stress lines around her big black eyes. She flops in the gray chair in front of my desk.
“I’m sorry for missing your birthday. Had a shitty week. My mom’s MS got so bad that she was admitted to the hospital.” She crosses her legs, pulling her floral sweater over her knees. Mrs. Ruby has been in and out of the hospital ever since high school. “She wears diapers now because she can’t use the bathroom.” Tears wet her eyes, and they fall down her cheeks. I stand up and wrap my arms around her shoulders. “Clarence and I broke up.” Her voice is weak. “I told him that I’m pregnant and he said he doesn’t want a child.”
Shock can’t even describe how I’m feeling. If Clarence were here, I would strangle him to death. “What are you going to do about the baby?”
I know her pain all too well. You feel afraid and your world feels like it’s about to fall apart.
“I don’t know. I want to keep it but I’m not ready to be a mom.”
I dig in the drawer and hand her a napkin. She wipes her cheeks and nose.
“We’re not making shit at the strip joint. I can get my father to help, but he is too busy taking care of my mom.”
“We will figure this out somehow. Whatever you want to do, I’ll stick by you one hundred percent. I promise.”
“Really?” Her eyes light up, and she tosses the used napkin in the wastebasket.
“Why wouldn’t I? You were there for me when I had Cole,” I say. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What?” She raises her eyebrow.
“If you decide to keep it, just don’t name the baby some weird shit that today’s parents are naming their kids.”
She laughs at my joke. “I won’t.” She straightens her spine. “Enough about me. I want to hear something good. How was your week?”
“I think I found my Joker.” I exhale and bite my lower lip, smiling.
“You found a guy to verbally abuse you and treat you like shit? Gotcha.”
I roll my eyes at her answer and sigh. “That’s not what I meant, asswipe.” I tap my nails against the desk. “I spent the night with Darien. He took me to his boat in Ocean City. He has a beach home there.”
Crystal’s eyes grow the size of saucers and she says, “Shut up! Did y’all fuck?” She rests her elbow on the desk, tucking her knuckles under her chin.
“Lower your voice. I don’t want Gunner to hear.” I glance through the glass double doors, and he speaks on the phone, looking like he is ready to beat the living shit out of someone. If Gunner knew I want his friend, he would try to beat him up. My brother is too overprotective. When he found out what Charles did to me, he beat the shit out of him. Charles showed up to court with a broken arm, black eye, and stitches at the crown of his head. Even though I asked Gunner about it, he avoided the question like a plague, but I knew he did it because he had a broken nose and two black eyes.
Shaking my head, I say, “He wants me to come over for dinner to talk. If you want me to cancel so we ca—”
“Hell no, go have fun. I’ll be fine by myself. I’ll catch up on Attack on Titan and eat popcorn.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. Besides, I want to wallow in my own self-pity.” She stands up, gives me a hug and says her goodbyes.
Gunner has me on my toes today—get him coffee, call this CEO, that CFO, set up a conference call with Darien. Then he hands me his platinum Visa and tells me to pick up his dry cleaning and groceries. The only reason why I do the last two is because he promised me he will give me a five-dollar raise. And if he wasn’t my brother then I would have to tell him N-to-the-fucking-O.
By five o’clock, I am beat. Want to text Darien and tell him to cancel our little date, but I go home, freshen up, and change into white sweatpants and a black long-sleeved shirt with a Batman logo on it. Yep, I love my comic books, don’t judge me. DC Comics are so much better than Marvel comics. I knock on Darien’s door. He swings it open wearing nothing but a pair of ripped jeans, way different than his expensive clothes. The dark ink I fantasize about touching makes his skin look more tan. He ushers me in. The scent of garlic and herbs lingers in the living room and my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten anything except a blueberry muffin for breakfast.
I take off my black Converse and place them on the shoe rack. He goes to the kitchen, and I follow him. He turns the knob on the stove and takes a spatula and removes salmon from the sizzling pan and places it on the plate.
“The food is almost ready. Have to wait until the mashed potatoes are done.” He grabs two glasses from the black wooden cabinet and sets them down on the granite counter. “You thirsty, sweetheart?”
“Um. Sure.” His body is hot, and he looks better with his shirt off. Pictures on his Facebook don’t do him justice. I bite my pinky nail as I imagine him exploring my body with his big hands like I’m a map.
He pours red wine into the glasses, and I walk to the counter and grab mine.
“Make yourself at home,” he says, disappearing to the back. Hate that saying. Exactly how do I make myself at home? Do I go through his fridge, get myself something to drink? Or do I turn on the television and prop my feet on the table?
The wooden floor is cold under my bare feet as I walk to the wide window. The sky is inky blue. You can’t see the stars because of the city lights. Looking down, you see people walking to their destination. It is a lovely view. Might talk Crystal into renting one similar to his. I feel Darien’s hands on my shoulders, and my body breaks out into goose bumps.
“Why don’t I get this view in my apartment?” I whine. Darien doesn’t answer. Instead, he pushes my hair to the side, exposing my bare neck. My breath hitches and my heart flutters in my chest like it’s ready to break free from my ribcage. I turn to face him. His eyes concentrate on my lips, and I swallow hard.
“There is something you should know,” he says, continuing to look at my lips.
“Go on,” I whisper.
“I’m going to fuck you.”
There you have it, ladies and gents, my panties are wetter than the Atlantic Ocean. My brain can’t fathom any words, and I continue to stare and his eyes, saying, You’re mine. A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. I know he will, but it’s a matter of when and how. Darien is a few inches from my face, and for a second I think he’s gonna kiss me. But he doesn’t. He takes a few steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“So what about this proposition?” I ask. Well, that’s a great way to kill the tension between us.
He exhales and says, “We will discuss it during dinner.”
The timer on the high-tech stove goes off.
“You want to set the table?” he asks.
“Sure.” I follow him to the kitchen, and he grabs two red placemats and two fancy square plates, handing them to me. I set each one on the beige marble table across from each other. When I look up, a big glass chandelier looking like something from the Victorian era hangs in the center from the ceiling. Wine holders decorate the dark brown walls.
He brings a bowl of mashed potatoes and a plate of salmon smothered in a creamy yellow sauce and sets them in the center of the table. Everything about this feels domestic. Like I’m his wife and he is my husband. I almost imagine how it would feel to be married again—almost. Grabbing the big wooden spoon, I slap mashed potatoes on both our plate and I use a spatula to scoop the salmon onto our plates. I sit in the brown suede chair across from him. Darien cuts his salmon into small pieces.
“I broke up with Tate, and before you get all cocky, I didn’t do it because you told me to.” The spoon scrapes against the expensive plate as I scoop potatoes in my mouth. Hmmm. The potatoes melt in my mouth like butter. Oh my God. This is so good.
“Why?” He looks at me with gleaming eyes and begins stuffing his face.
I bite into the salmon. The garlic and herb melt on my tongue, and I let out a slight moan. “He wanted me to be his girlfriend, and I didn’t feel that way about him.” I continue to eat and enjoy the food. Don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself to Darien.
He clears his throat and says, “I want us to start fucking.”
“That’s your proposition?”
“Yeah,” he says, before taking a swig of his red wine. Should have known.
“Just fuck buddies?”
“More like friends with benefits. All I ask is for you to attend events with me.” He wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “We will be exclusive. Better not catch your perky ass fucking another man.”
I roll my eyes at the last statement. Yeah, like I would jump from dick to dick. “And if I don’t agree?”
“You will.”
So freaking arrogant.
“I’ll think about it.” I already know my answer, but I’m going to pull his chain a little bit.
Lifting his eyebrow, he says, “Think about it?”
Darien walks to my side of the table, squats down, and rubs his paw-like hands on my thigh. I shudder under his touch. Standing up, I go to the shoe rack and slide on my shoes, lacing my laces.
“Fine. But I’m not a patient man.” Darien is on my heels, following me. If I don’t get out of here, I will rip his clothes off.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say, before leaving his condo.