Chapter 12
Peter
Gemma’s amazing. Beautiful as all hell, with a sharp wit and a sweet smile that makes me go all soft inside. Can you believe it? Me, Peter Carmichael. Asshole extraordinaire who’s never been in love before. Yeah, it blows my mind too.
After all, I never expected this. I figured that I’d live my entire life as a single man with nary a care in the world. What was there to worry about? I’ve got billions in cash, a couple houses around the world, and a car collection that would make Billy Joel jealous. Not just that, but women throw themselves at me every single minute of every single day. It gets tiring, to be honest. Sometimes, I just want to mind my own business, whether it’s getting a coffee at Starbucks or working out in the gym. But no, the women can get aggressive. They throw themselves at me, uncaring that I’m sweating bullets and panting like a madman trying to run five miles at a heartwrenching pace.
So Gemma is real different, and I mean that in a good way. Of course, she’s sweet and sensual, but she sasses me back too, and I like that. Too many women lay back and let me do anything I want given the amount of money at play. After all, I treat them nice. Or more accurately, I buy them nice stuff to keep them compliant. Clothes, jewelry, even a car once in a while. There was a girl way back when who wrangled an apartment out of me. It’s a lot but you know what? I don’t really care because what’s one more apartment? Just a few hundred thou, which is nothing to a billionaire like me.
But that’s the thing - even though I’ve showered Gemma with every luxury, she doesn’t let it get to her head. She doesn’t become some docile fifties housewife with a lipsticked smile while running the vacuum cleaner. Instead, she gives as good as she gets.
“So what’s going on with the waitressing gig?” she asked me the other day. I looked up from the paper I was reading. It’s nice having her stay in my suite. Comfortable really. We were sprawled out, eating bagels and drinking OJ while reading different sections of the New York Times.
“Well, I just want to know if I should go back to work at the bar,” she said with a sassy smile. “I mean, I am supposed to be earning my keep. You made that clear during our first meeting.”
I put down the Style section. I admit it. I’m a guy who likes clothes, and sometimes they have good stuff in there. There’s definitely a focus on menswear, which I find gratifying. Of course, the women’s stuff is interesting too, what with the occasional feature on high-end designers. But I like my woman nude, and Gemma knows it. Currently, she was sitting on the bed completely flushed and rosy, with just a sheet pulled over her breasts as she flicked through the Business section.
“You’re not going back,” I growl. “Isn’t that obvious? You’ve been here for what? Two months now? And you’ve never set foot back in the bar.”
She shot me a knowing smile.
“That’s because you never let me go back,” she says. “I’ve been a prisoner here, eating your food, drinking your wine, and doing all the things a girlfriend does.”
I laugh at that one, even though her words make my heart jolt in my chest. Is she my girlfriend? Well, yes. I guess. Kind of. After all, she makes me happy. Isn’t that what significant others are supposed to do?
So I prowl over to her on the bed, and the light in my eyes makes her squeal in anticipation.
“No seriously, Peter!” she huffs as I get closer and closer, my massive body stalking her small one. “What am I doing here?”
“Making me happy,” I say simply.
“Is that all?” she asks with a wry smile.
“For now, yes,” I say. “Why, is that a problem?”
She shoots me another knowing gaze.
“We both know this can’t go on forever. As much as I adore making you happy, there’s still the outside world. You know, a job. My cat. All that.”
I snort.
“Please sweetheart. That waitressing job at the Silver Star was total shit, and you know it. You deserve better than that. You deserve the sun, the moon, and the stars, and I intend on giving it to you.”
I advance again, ready to kiss and bite the delicate curve of her neck, but Gemma puts one hand on my shoulder in warning, pinning me with a stare.
“No Peter, I’m serious,” she says. “You know I can’t stay locked up here forever. As much as it’s great being a lady of leisure, it’s not real life. Real life is up there,” she says, gesturing towards the ceiling, “and we can’t ignore that forever. I mean, I have to pay the rent on my apartment, take care of utilities, and … I dunno, save for retirement.”
I laugh uproariously. This girl is so cute, and I’m tempted to turn her over and swat her behind for a little fun. But her stare tells me she means it, so I sit on the bed next to her and take that small hand in mine.
“Sweetheart, you know I’m taking care of that stuff for you already,” I say. “The rent and utilities are being paid by my property manager, and I’ll find you a new job if you can’t get your old one at the Silver Star back. Plus, isn’t your neighbor taking care of Henry? I thought that old cat was getting fed and watered just fine.”
She huffs and gives me a perplexed look.
“Well, yes Henry is okay, but that’s the thing,” she says. “He’s just okay. Not good. He misses me. If he doesn’t see me, he gets yowly and cranky, and I feel bad for Mrs. Patterson having to put up with that.”
Man, this girl is too nice. It’s just an old tomcat, so who cares? But my girl’s soft heart makes me love her more, and I press a kiss to her forehead.
“Gem, we’ll figure this out alright? Maybe not at this very second, but we will. You will get to see Henry again, and all your old friends. I’ll make sure they give you your job back at the Silver Star, if that’s what you want. I heard it re-opened after the shoot-out,” I say wryly.
She smiles again, looking a little defeated.
“Okay, but soon, alright? It’s amazing being here with you, Pete,” she says, coming up on her knees and circling her arms around my broad shoulders, “but this isn’t real life. We’re living in a hazy pink cloud, and at some point, we have to get back to Earth.”
“But does that hazy pink cloud include sex?” I growl against the pouty lips. “Because if it does, then I’m happy to stay here forever.”
She giggles again, the temporary sadness in her eyes disappearing like mist on a sunny day.
“You know what I mean, Pete,” she purrs. “And yes, it definitely does.”
With that, I sweep the curvy girl into my arms and plunder her mouth ravenously. Gemma moans beneath me, her legs already parting and welcoming me into that sweet vee. Her breath is so soft and fragrant that I could die right now from the pleasure. But my girl deserves better than some temporary purgatory because I’ve fallen in love … and plan on telling her my feelings.