Chapter 9: Bethany
I woke up next morning and rolled over. I could feel a warm presence next to me. I opened my eyes. I smiled, feeling a tingle of wonder in my belly.
He was asleep, that stark, handsome profile relaxed and looking much younger than his years. I didn’t, I realized, even know how old he was. Now, with his eyes closed and those surprisingly long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, he could have been no older than eighteen. I marveled at his beauty.
Stretching, I took a moment to look round the apartment, loving the clean lines of the place.
I heard a slow sigh and looked back at Kyle, my tummy aching with the memory of his filling me. I watched his breathing and remembered what it had felt like to be with him. How he had taken me so powerfully and so passionately.
I shivered, smiling as I recalled how it felt to have him inside me. His face as he took me, teeth gritted with sweet passion. I grinned, cheeks flushed with sweet arousal.
He rolled over and let out a long sigh. His eyes opened. I saw the moment when he remembered I was there. I smiled into his eyes.
“Hello,” I whispered.
He smiled back. “Hi,” he said.
I turned toward him, and he looked into my eyes. I was amazed by the depth of feeling I read there. I let out a long sigh and reached out to him. His hand took mine. I felt that same melting feeling in my heart and swallowed hard.
Don’t cry.
It was ridiculous, but every time I looked into his eyes and saw that hesitant sweetness, my heart felt as if someone had smashed it with a hammer, breaking the walls I’d built around it. I realized I had never felt so cared for. No man had ever looked at me like that, with that melting softness that said I really meant something to him.
Then he reached out and ran a hand down my side, his fingertips lightly tracing the curve of my waist. I shivered and my body started to throb. He reached down lower and his hand went between my thighs. I gasped.
He smiled. I rolled toward him and realized with some surprise that he was ready for me. That big manhood was hard and stiff. I felt myself flush with pleasure.
“Kyle?” I whispered.
“Yes?” His smile teased me. I rolled closer and rubbed my body against his.
“Mm,” he moaned. “Oh, babe. I want you more and more.”
I felt my cheeks get hot and I pressed against him, just teasing him a little. He growled in his throat and rolled over, pushing me onto my back.
“I want you,” he whispered again. His mouth moved over mine and he rolled over so that he lay on top of me. I moved so that he could enter.
He pushed in and I gasped. Then he moved out and thrust in again. I closed my eyes as my body responded instantly, starting to shiver as he pressed on all the sweet places inside me. Oh, wow. What is it about him that makes me want him so much? I want him so much it hurts.
It was almost painful, the pleasure he called up in me. Painful and wonderful. He was thrusting into me now, slow and regular, again and again and again. I was shivering as my clit throbbed and my whole body melted and I clung to him and called his name.
This time when I came, I sobbed, and an instant later he did, too, crying out in the sweet almost agony of his own orgasm. We collapsed together and lay there.
I was crying, happy tears rolling down my face. It wasn’t conscious—it just happened. I wrapped my arms around him and held him and he lay there with his fullness buried in me.
He rolled off a minute or two later and looked into my eyes.
“How late is it?” he whispered.
I looked around, looking for the time. There was a clock on the wall across from us.
“Eight A.M.,” I whispered, “or a few minutes past.”
“Dammit,” he whispered. I smiled. It made me feel wanted.
“We should go,” I agreed.
He rolled onto his side and smiled at me. His handsome, firm-jawed face looked sad.
“I suppose,” he said. “Shower?” He raised a brow. “Or should I?”
“You go first,” I offered. He smiled.
“Thanks.”
I lay there while he showered, listening to the sound of water running with half an ear, while the rest of my senses were lost in the sweet recollections of the night. I stared up at the ceiling and knew I had never felt so good. My body was revitalized and remade. I rolled over on the crisp, cool sheets and wished I could have this moment forever.
He opened the bathroom door and came out wrapped in a towel around his waist. He brought a flood of musky shower gel steam with him, his dark hair wet and glistening. I smiled at him. He scratched his head and smiled back.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded. “I should shower too.”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
I got into the stylish, modern shower and washed myself, my mind still floating in bliss. When I got out, he was dressed already, combing his almost-dried hair. I made a rueful face.
“Dressed?”
The grin that spread across his face was lovely. He laughed. “You’re not, though,” he commented, walking over in his smart trousers and crisp slate-colored shirt. He drew me against him, and I laughed.
“Kyle! I’m all wet. I’ll mess your clothes.”
“You’re wet, are you?” He teased.
I blushed. “Not in that way.”
“Oh?” he frowned playfully.
I pushed him playfully, amazed by the closeness that existed between us. “You know I want you,” I said firmly. “But you’ve got work.”
“I know,” he said, turning away and reaching for a jacket. “Don’t remind me.”
“Sorry,” I said, pulling on my clothes from the night before. I had thought we’d thrown them off with some haste, but I found them now, neatly piled on the bed. Someone had tidied up, I thought with some surprise. I looked around absently, noting how minimal the room was. A modest-sized wardrobe, a table with almost nothing on it, a crisp white bed.
I am a designer, and the room was like Mies van der Rohe meets Ned Stark. It was so simpled down and bare that there was almost no character in it at all. Monastic and cold. It surprised me.
“Coffee?” he said from somewhere behind my shoulder.
I looked up from fastening my shirt. “Yes. That would be awesome.”
He grinned. “I’ll get that going, then. If you need a toothbrush or something…”
I blushed. “Thanks. I’d love that.”
“In the second drawer down,” he said, indicating a small cabinet in the bathroom. “I’ve got a new one.”
“Oh! Thanks,” I said. “that’s thoughtful.”
I walked into the kitchen a few minutes later and found myself enveloped by the scent of coffee. I looked over at him. He was calmly stirring it, with toast cooking in the toaster behind him.
It felt so weird. It was almost like he and I had known each other forever, and yet we’d never done this before.
“Here we are,” he said as the toast popped out. “All done.”
I smiled at him, feeling a small frown on my brow. “Thanks,” I said. “You’re really organized.”
“Thanks,” he said. His big gray eyes seemed surprised.
“And such great coffee. Service with a smile too,” I added teasing him.
“Well, service makes me smile,” he joked. “That sort, anyway.”
I guffawed. “Pleased to hear it,” I said.
As he drew out his chair and sat down, I realized that it was the first time I’d really seen him at ease before. In his kitchen, with an aroma of coffee and the sunlight sheening his hair, he was a playful, boyish man. So much nicer than the hard, cold, and brittle person I had met previously.
He crunched into his toast and smiled. “That’s much better.”
“Well, we did expend a lot of energy last night,” I said. His grin made me laugh.
“Yes,” he agreed. He was still smiling as he drank his coffee. My heart melted just a little at how shyly proud he looked.
We ate and drank in silence. He stood after a minute or two.
“Eight forty,” he said with a frown. “I should go.” He looked uncomfortable, almost reluctant. I felt surprised and touched. And also worried about making him late.
“Hell,” I nodded. “Yeah, you should.”
“I can at least get you back to the restaurant,” he said, his face taut with worry.
I shrugged. “I can get a taxi. Or the bus or something.” I didn’t want to make him late for work.
“No,” he said firmly. “I can’t let you do that. Or at least let me call someone.”
I smiled, touched by the depth of his care. “I’ll be okay.”
“You’re sure?” he frowned.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
He stood there in the kitchen, just looking at me. He was smiling, but there were a lot of complex messages in his gaze. I swallowed hard.
“We should go,” I said, not wanting to make him late. I looked at my hands. It was surprisingly hard to decide to walk away from him.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I guess.”
“Yes,” I nodded.
He grabbed his briefcase and keys and we walked into the hallway. He was quiet as we went to the lift and pressed the button, heading downstairs. When we reached the front door, he looked into my eyes.
“Thanks,” he said. His voice was gruff. “It was amazing. You’re sure you’re okay?”
I swallowed, feeling my eyes well up with tears from nowhere. I blinked harshly. What the hell was wrong with me?
“I’ll be fine,” I said tightly. “I don’t want to make you late.”
He reached out and gently touched my shoulder. I let out a long breath.
“Come on,” I said. “We should go.”
Nodding, he made a small discomforted face, his mouth making a thin line. “Yeah.”
We walked out into the fresh morning air.
He went to his car automatically, then turned and looked at me. He waved.
“Bye!” I called, making my voice sound lightly cheerful.
“Bye.”
I walked briskly down the path, back straight, mouth set. It was only when I reached the intersection that I figured out I had no idea where I was.
“Come on, Bethany. Think clearly.”
I had my phone and I looked around for landmarks. I was in a suburban area with trees and wide, elegant streets. I breathed in the scent of dew and the fainter scent of gasoline from the vehicles that had just passed on their way to work. I saw a road sign.
“Great. Now I just need a house number, and I can call a cab.”
I found a numbered building near a convenient bench and sat down, calling the taxi service. It was just as well the traffic had died down and so I could hear the operator and give directions without having to yell. I decided to go to the restaurant where I could fetch my car. Fortunately, it wasn’t like I was needed somewhere urgently. I organized that fairly quickly. Then I leaned back, waiting.
During the taxi ride back, I felt dazed and still a bit distant. Almost as if I wasn’t really awake. Like part of me was still drifting in the dream that was me, being with Kyle. Unbelievable.
I thanked the driver, paid him and drifted up to my car.
“You’re crazy,” I told myself as I looked in the rearview mirror. “Absolutely, completely crazy.”
I really was. I laughed, a sort of bittersweet laugh.
You had your wonderful night, I told myself harshly. Now you can get back to reality. Kyle is not going to want to keep up a connection. It was a moment of madness, that is all.
I drove back trying hard to be grounded and sensible. But the happy spark inside me simply refused to be put out. When I pulled up at mom’s house I was still smiling.
When I walked in, the house was quiet. I realized Mom had left for work and sent her a quick text to let her know I was back. Then I went upstairs to put on fresh clothes.
“Bethany,” I told myself sternly in the mirror, “don’t even think about it. You had your fun. Now it’s back to your ordinary, boring life.”
That was how it was meant to be. There wasn’t room in my life for handsome billionaires. Not even cute, boyish ones who seemed to be slowly coming out of their shell. No, that was for someone else. Not me.
“I’m Bethany Hayworth,” I told myself firmly. “An ordinary girl.”
Well, I thought, smiling at myself as I combed out my hair, something extraordinary had just happened to me. And whatever happened next, I told myself gently, I would always have the memories of this. They would keep me smiling no matter what.