CHAPTER FIVE
Teresa
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Maybe my English wasn’t as good as I thought.
“Wh-what?” I gasped, as I stared at him. Mr. Sterling, I mean Matt, had never so much as even looked my way, I was an invisible housekeeper. And now he was asking me on a date?
The big man looked amused by my stunned reaction. His blue eyes were searing as they scanned my body, running up and down my curvaceous form. I felt a hot heat rise from my pussy to cover my breasts and chest, unable to stop my reaction, embarrassed at how I looked and yet clearly physically aroused by the bold rake of his gaze. What was wrong with me? Even more, what was wrong with him?
It was like he read my mind. “Teresa,” he said slowly. “I need someone whom I get along with, with a captivating back story, a real rags to riches type background. I can tell you’ve got it. You don’t have any pretenses, you’ll sell well to the media and be perfect on my arm.”
But I still didn’t buy it. “Seor,” I said. “I mean …” I shook my head in confusion. “There must be a million women out there who want to date you, there are plenty of people with disadvantaged backgrounds in San Francisco. Why me?” I asked again plaintively, still mystified.
“Because I need someone to fill a gap,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Think of it as a job. A job as my girlfriend,” he clarified. That shut me down a bit. It’s hard for any woman to hear the word “girlfriend” and “job” in the same sentence, but at the same time, he was the boss.
Matt went on. “Most women want a commitment from me, and that’s just not something I’m into,” he shrugged. “But with us, it’d be different, a business transaction if you will. You’d be my girlfriend in public, helping me stump during the election season and after it’s over, whether I win or lose, you’re free to go your way. Like a short-term contract position,” he said easily. “Of course,” he added, “I plan on making this financially lucrative for you.”
I was stunned. I was literally a Cinderella, a woman who came in to sweep the hearth of this gorgeous man, and Prince Charming had somehow noticed me. He was going to “make this financially lucrative,” whatever that meant. It sounded distasteful, but my mind automatically went to all the things that I could use … a little more food, a little more rent for my aunt, tuition for next semester, maybe even take Mami out for a nice dinner at that new taqueria.
But I was careful. Growing up in the Honduras makes you wary, and there are no free rides from gringos. “What do I need to do exactly?” I asked slowly. “Do I need to move in here? Do you need me to keep house still? To …” Suddenly I flushed, realizing the import of his words. “Do you mean to have a physical relationship?” I choked, my cheeks flaming.
The big man merely looked amused as he took me in. I loved the way his broad shoulders were so dominating, hugged tight in a blue denim button-down. He was an alpha male in every sense of the word, from that rakish black hair to the aura of power that surrounded him at all times.
“Teresa,” he said. “Yeah, I’d like to have a physical relationship. Would you be into that?” he drawled.
I bit my lip, my head spinning. Today had really been the day of days. Starting off with the unwanted come-on from Orlando, which had set off a host of bad memories, and now ending with a proposition from a man who was probably the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco … and who wanted to sleep with me.
I was floored, but I admit, tempted. Matt was just so gorgeous. He’d never noticed me, but I’d seen him behind his computer as he worked. The dark hair, the muscled build, these weren’t the traits of a paper pusher, he clearly worked out and it showed. Even today, casually dressed in expensive jeans, he exuded an aura of confidence. I shrank a bit inside, dying again at what I must have looked like in my shabby work clothes. What could Matt Sterling possibly see in Teresa Ramos of Krystal Kleaners?
But before I could give it more thought, Matt was pulling me close, into the heavenly circle of his arms, a feeling of safety permeating my bones even as he towered over me, his masculine form dominant and possessive.
“Let’s do a dry run, shall we?” he drawled before lowering his head.
And I was drawn in for a kiss. Not a kiss like you see in a romantic comedy, but a true telenovela, crazy swoon-in-love type kiss, where the hero pulls the beautiful heroine close and ravishes her. Matt was no exception. His lips descending over mine were gentle at first, probing my mouth, his mobile mouth expressive and soft as they moved softly over mine.
But the flames were immediate, my breasts growing hot as they pressed against his chest, the nipples hardening like bullets. Matt savagely took more, parting my lips insistently, running his tongue into my wet cavern, tasting me, sampling me, making me shiver with desire. I’m ashamed to say but my cunny started to run almost immediately, the moistness in my panties practically a gush as I mewled into his mouth, disturbed that this man, my employer, was able to elicit such a response in seconds.
And Matt seemed to sense my weakness, pulling me closer, grabbing me by the back of the head, thrusting his hands deep in my hair, overwhelming in his masculinity. “That’s it chica,” he growled roughly against my neck as one thick thigh angled mine apart. “I knew we’d be perfect,” he said, his mouth tracing closer and closer to the vee at my sweater.
But it was the rock-hard pole pressed against my thigh that caused the shutdown. Suddenly, my vision blackened and I could hear his voice again. That wheezing, guttural laugh, the dry rasping cough, the parched, dessicated skin that scraped like sandpaper. I screamed into Matt’s mouth, my pupils dilated and began to fight like a woman possessed, flailing against him with my fists, kicking his shins with my sneakered feet.
“Aii! Aii!” I screamed, the terror overwhelming, losing any grasp of reality and instead returning to the terrors of my childhood. “Alejarse de mí! Alejarse de mí!” I cried, sobbing, a mass of writhing limbs as I tried to fight him off.
Matt was stunned and at first tried to pull me in close. “Shhh, shhh,” he hushed, smoothing my hair, stroking my body to and even touching my breasts, skimming a finger over a hard nipple. But my flailing limbs and desperate struggling were uncontrollable, even violent, and he finally pulled away with a confused, “What the fuck?”
It was then I knew that this would never work. I couldn’t take a job as Matt’s girlfriend. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was broken and damaged.