CHAPTER TWELVE
Will
There’s a first time for everything. Today was the first time an arm-wrestling contest gave me a hard-on. And the son of a bitch still hasn’t gone away.
We stayed a lot longer than expected at Boney’s, mostly because Teresa couldn’t seem to stop charming the pants off everyone after her impromptu victory, posing for pictures and signing a copy of the menu to be stapled to the wall. Even Paula couldn’t keep the grudging smile off her face around a flushed and exhilarated Teresa. There was a change in Teresa that might have been subtle to anyone else. To a man who tries to interpret her every word and gesture, the change was bigger. I thought she was confident before, but I’m willing to bet there’s a bottomless well of it inside her, just waiting to come out.
She’s young—a little younger than I originally thought—and she’s got time to be exactly what she wants to be. I can’t go back and resume the life I dreamed of before my father rearranged my priorities. Watching Teresa, though? It makes me wonder if going back is even necessary. These moments with her feel fresh. Part of something new that has nothing to do with before. Or after. Just…right now.
I glance at Teresa where she sits in the passenger seat, giggling at Southpaw’s big panting mouth where it hangs over her shoulder. Damn, I’m hungry for her again. If she wasn’t giving me sex eyes every thirty seconds back in the restaurant, I might have carried her out of there over my shoulder, just to get her undivided attention for a few minutes. But all afternoon, she had this…way about her. A way of making it clear she was with me. Whether she swayed over and twined her arms behind my neck or tugged on the hem of my T-shirt and winked, it felt like…a relationship.
I fucking loved it.
Every time someone walked into Boney’s, Southpaw danced around and yipped until the newcomers greeted Teresa. Whether he was introducing Teresa or wanted her to make introductions, I couldn’t figure out, but hell if my damn heart didn’t climb up into my throat every time.
Distractions. I needed them. From the question mark that still hangs over Teresa’s head. From the truth of what’s coming with Southpaw. So while the locals commandeered her in the bar, I ducked outside and made a hotel reservation. We’re about halfway to Nashville and close enough to Ouachita National Forest to stop for the night. But no way am I checking her into another shithole motel where I have to be concerned about her safety if she leaves to get ice.
Since leaving New York, I’ve been existing in a different kind of world. Money is available, but it’s no longer something to flaunt to keep my financial heavyweight image solid. Most of the time, I have no predetermined persona among strangers, which has left the door open to just be myself. It costs money to stay in a place like this one, though. A good chunk. Teresa knows I’m well off, but she hasn’t seen proof of it yet and I’m not exactly anxious to make the transition from before to after. Falling back on my pile of resources takes me a little further away from my own before…and the quest to find out if that part of me still exists.
My hands flex and tighten on the steering wheel. Up ahead, the trees are clearing to reveal a sweeping ranch-style hotel, an opulent fountain bubbling in the covered, circular driveway. An army of bellhops stand at attention, prepared to retrieve our luggage and speed us through the check-in process, knowing there’ll be a fat tip on the other end.
Based on the way Teresa has been sitting forward in the passenger seat since we checked in at the front security gate, it’s not what she was expecting. “Oh no. I can’t afford this.”
“You’re my guest.”
There’s a slice of panic in the look she cuts me. “Aren’t you taking this whole call girl fantasy a little too far now?”
Acid boils in my stomach. Is that what she thinks? “That’s not what this is, Teresa. Jesus.”
Some of the tension leaks from her shoulders, but a lot of it remains. “What is it then?”
We stop in front of the bell hop podium and I pop the trunk, ignoring the flurry of activity taking place around the car to focus on Teresa. “I want you to be safe. You were already staying at the motel when I showed up. But if I take you somewhere, everyone better damn well call you ma’am. And not that I don’t enjoy putting assholes in their place for commenting on your appearance, but I’m still pissed from the last time. Having it happening again so soon wouldn’t be pretty. All right, baby? We’re going to a place with fountains.”
She shakes her head slowly. “I would call you arrogant, but you’ve probably been called worse.”
“It’s part of my charm.” Maybe it’s the way she looks at me like I’m see-through, but once again I’m compelled to reveal more to this woman. “I want us to be on equal terms like we were in that shit-bag motel, but I don’t know how to do that. Not without denying you the things you deserve.”
“Damn,” she murmurs, rolling her soft-looking lips together. “Stop switching lanes, Will. I can’t keep up.”
Christ, I want to be inside her so bad. Want to test out this live wire connection between us while I’m so deep she can’t hide a single thing. She thinks she can’t keep up with me? I’ve never been so fascinated by a woman in my life and ready to do what it takes to earn her secrets. “I think we’re about even right now.”
I don’t want another man opening the door for her, so I climb out and circle the car, passing along instructions to the bell hop to bring our luggage to the check-in counter. Teresa is already exiting the car when I reach her side, earning her a growl of disapproval. She only gives me a pinky wave in response, before turning to move the passenger seat forward to let out Southpaw. He sniffs Teresa’s hand and nudges her thigh, then bounds over to me, tunneling between my legs.
“Someone is excited,” Teresa says, passing me on her way to the lobby. When we draw even, she slides a glance down to my lap. “I suppose the dog is, too.”
“Cruel woman,” I return on a low laugh, adjusting my cock, which has been hard for so long today, I forgot to hide it. “Technically I was supposed to call a doctor two hours ago.”
“Poor baby.”
She continues on her way toward the entrance, swishing her tight little ass around, my dog at her heels like a faithful soldier. The image gives me no choice but to catch up, wrap an arm around her waist and draw her back against my lap. “Just so we’re clear, I love being hard for you. Feels like an honor.”
“Feels more like an eggplant,” she breathes, wiggling her butt. “Did you book one room or two?”
“Both. I booked a suite with two bedrooms.”
“Cheeky.”
I press tighter against her bottom. “Interesting choice of words.” Her husky laughter turns every head in the lobby when I lead her inside. “Right this way, ma’am.”
“Unbelievably, I think I prefer you calling me woman.”
“You’ll be hearing that plenty.”
She hums in her throat. “You know what happens when you assume.”
“Enough with the butt talk. You’re obsessed.”
She claps a hand over her mouth, but not before she laugh-snorts, drawing even more attention. Pretty sure my smile is the definition of shit-eating, as I throw an arm around her shoulder and stroll toward the check-in desk.
The way Teresa leans into me is almost enough to make me forget about the missed call on my phone.
Almost.
*
My apartment in Manhattan has an unobstructed view of New York Harbor, heated floors, a twenty-four-hour concierge and a rooftop swimming pool. I purchased the place without a viewing and didn’t set foot inside until a week after I bought it, because I was working around the clock. I can still remember pressing a hand to the living room window, ships passing through my fingers, and wondering how the hell I got there. None of the furniture or artwork was familiar. It was a stranger’s home. Sometimes I worked longer hours so I didn’t have to go home, which is one of the reasons I didn’t spend enough time with Southpaw.
Other times, I would stand on the roof deck and command myself to appreciate what I’d earned. To stop behaving like some poor little rich boy, when there were so many people out there who would kill for what I had. Sometimes, I could manage to feel satisfied for a few hours, before I started to feel anxious and left. Some days it only took a few minutes. Bottom line, though, I haven’t felt right in a long time. Like I wasn’t some imposter who didn’t belong. My unique brand of high-risk, high-return investing put my fund on the map, right? Made it viable? So why did taking credit feel wrong?
Everything I built was for someone else.
My heart was never in it. Only my head.
Having lived as an imposter so long, I kind of understand Teresa’s reaction when we enter the room. Because even by my standards, the suite I booked is fucking impressive. Teresa stops on the threshold and backs up, like she’s getting ready to bolt, so I pick her up and carry her inside, choosing to ignore the bell hop’s choked laugh as he follows with our luggage cart.
There’s a panoramic window overlooking the golf course and the wide body of the lake beyond. To the right is a sliding glass door leading to an opulent outdoor space, complete with a bubbling hot tub and lounge area, flickering lanterns sitting on every available surface. White curtains flutter in the summer breeze blowing in through the open slider. Straight ahead is a sunken living room with a suspended television and enough cattle-patterned throw pillows to drown in. Off to the left is a hallway with a series of doors I assume to be bedrooms. They’re right across the hall from one another.
“Can I get you anything else, sir? Ma’am?”
The bellman’s interruption makes me realize I’m still holding a limp Teresa in one arm. Setting her down, I slide a bill out of my pocket and hand it to the bellman. “That’s all. Thank you.”
“Sure. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Great.”
A second later, the door bumps shut. When time continues to tick by and Teresa doesn’t turn around or say anything, I start to consider that I’ve made a mistake. I would have kept her safe in a run-down motel, same as I will here. Yeah, more vigilance would have been required, but at least she wouldn’t feel like a fish out of water. I know what that’s like, dammit.
“I need to make a phone call,” she says finally, rubbing her bare arms as she turns around. “Just want to check in with my brother.”
“Sure.”
She starts toward the hallway but stops short. “Um. Which one…”
“Your pick.”
There’s no logical explanation for why I follow her—clearly she needs to be alone—only that it’s a natural, undeniable response to her withdrawing from me. It’s a power surge in my blood, shooting me into step behind her. There’s a slight tensing of her neck, but she doesn’t turn around, doesn’t break stride as she pushes into the right bedroom at the hallway’s end.
With one foot inside the bedroom, she’s already scoffing. Probably because it’s a pink, over-the-top cowgirl theme. Without stopping to acknowledge the room beyond a sweeping glance, she continues to the bathroom, tossing me a fired-up look over her shoulder. If my dick was hard before, it’s a heat-seeking missile now.
“You want me to come after you.”
She keeps walking, her ass swishing left to right beneath her red dress in an absolute testament to God’s creative talents. “How’d you come up with that?”
I follow her into the dark bathroom, where she’s all ready to face off, chin up, hands fisted at her sides. “When a woman like you wants a man to fuck off, she tells him.” When I step into her personal space, she doesn’t back away. A shudder goes through her when our bodies brush. That telling reaction tempts me to tangle my hand in the hair at her nape and tilt her head back. To turn her until she’s pressed to the marble vanity, her mouth breathing in quick puffs up at mine. “Tell me to fuck off. Or tell me to fuck you. Dealer’s choice.”
Her lashes flutter down, but not before I catch a hint of conflict in her eyes. “And if I’m not ready for either?”
I’ve never pressured a woman for sex in my life. I’ve also never wanted to be inside one so goddamn bad I felt my sanity slipping. The fact that she asked the question at all keeps me in check, though. Sex between us is going to be right. Filthy, with a lot of swearing, but right. In the meantime, I’m not going to forfeit the chance for a preview. Not when I sense she needs something from me and I’m turning into a madman with the need to touch her. “You want me to show you how it would be between us?”
“I don’t want the fantasy right now. It’s too real after—”
“Seeing the room. This place. I get it.” Regret collides with my lust and now? Now I’m not just horny, I’ve got an undeniable urge to correct my misstep. “Just you and me right now, Teresa. No games.”
After a moment of studying my face, she nods.