Ten

Devlin

“For the last time, Elias, I am not taking the damned meeting.” I end the call and toss the cellphone onto the desk. He’s still pushing for the meeting with the Serrato’s, and I’m not playing ball. The entire idea is absurd.

I roll my neck and shoulders, trying to ease the tension from a full day of meetings. Tonight, I need to make time for a workout in the weight room. All this tension needs to go somewhere, and I’m not in the mood to screw a random woman.

Big green eyes and long blonde hair fills my vision, and my jaw clenches. I can’t seem to get her out of my head, and it pisses me off. Yet, once again, I find myself picking up the phone and rereading our last text conversation. The little hellion had responded with such insolence over my concern for her welfare that I’d told her to basically go to hell. It’s been two weeks since that abrupt text conversation, but fortunately, Keagan has been keeping me updated.

I sit back in my chair, rubbing my face with frustration. When I’d sent her that cutting text, I’d been in the mindset that I didn’t want, nor need her, in my life. Then, as the days wore on, I’d found myself wanting to reach out to her. She’s on my mind often, and now I’m conflicted. Whether I like it or not, I am fascinated and want to know more about her.

I’m coming to the realization that I’ve made a huge mistake with Charli. I’m treating her like one of my employees, and that she clearly is not. Nor is she an object that needs to be taken care of. She’s someone that I genuinely want to get to know, but I haven’t treated her in the way that I should’ve been. Though in defense of my blundering, I hadn’t known just how much I’d come to like her.

So, here I am with a dilemma on my hands. I don’t do idle chit-chat. That kind of stuff has always been useless to me, but now I’m regretting my reluctance to deal with unnecessary conversational approaches. I’ve always taken what I wanted without much effort, especially when it pertains to women. They typically read the expression on my face when I’m looking to fuck, and they eagerly give me what I want.

Problem is, I don’t know what I want from Charli.

When she’s in my presence, I have this overwhelming need to invade her personal space. It’s as if my body has a mind of its own and it aches to be near hers. Sexual tension is building between us, and I’d almost kissed her the night she was here to return my gifts. When her lips had formed the word ‘stop,’ I’d been more than just a little disappointed. I’d also been furious that she’s stirring something within me, something unsettling. These emotions, I don’t like them. They’re unwelcoming. They’re also not fading even after I’d deliberately distanced myself from her.

I need to figure out what the hell I want to do and get it sorted, because this isn’t working. I’m stuck in this damned limbo of sorts, and it’s messing with my mind.

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my jaw. Charli’s eighteen. So damn young and yet a full-grown adult. I’m twenty-six, eight years her senior. Not too old, but certainly old enough to know better. That doesn’t stop me from wanting her, though. It doesn’t prevent me from wondering what she looks like naked, whether she’s a virgin—heat immediately shoots straight to my dick. The idea of her innocence turns me on liking nothing else has lately.

Yes, I could definitely fuck Charli. It’d be damned good, too. But Charli isn’t someone you randomly screw when the need hits. No, she deserves better.

For the first time in my life, I’m left wondering if perhaps someone is too good for the likes of me. I’ve never, ever put anyone above myself, but Charli’s different. She’s beautiful, innocent, and genuine. And so honest that her frankness pisses me off, and yet at the same time, I crave it.

I need to figure out what I want and why I’ve taken over her life under the guise of wanting to keep her safe.