Chapter Eleven

Isabella

With the exception of my gown being delivered after a much needed trip to the cleaners, the rest of my weekend is uneventful.

If I’m being honest, it’s downright depressing.

I’m not sure why. I know I did the right thing. Walking away from my boss after one night is the best thing for both of us, especially after my horrible breakup and all the media attention his arrival at the company had garnered. He’s a private person. He doesn’t want a life in the spotlight and frankly, neither do I. This is the right thing to do. It has to be, but for some reason, I just can’t get him out of my head.

This is stupid.

Regardless of the fact that I was having real feelings for him before I’d ever been in his bed, at no point in my time with Adam did I ever expect a relationship to form. It’s ridiculous for me to be upset that he’s yet to pull up to my window like Richard Gere in ‘Pretty Woman,’ professing his love through the top of a limo.

He’d said it himself. He’s no prince and while we’re on the subject, I’m neither Julia Roberts nor am I a hooker.

With a huff, I stab my ice cream with my spoon and settle back in against the couch, shaking my head at myself. I try my best to distract myself with what has become my norm, doing anything and everything to not think about Friday night. It’s useless, though.

Even if I couldn’t taste him every time I close my eyes, there’s only so much housework and Netflix a woman can endure before going crazy.

I consider calling Christie, but with my uncertainty about everything, I think better of it. Besides, there’s still this nagging feeling of not wanting to disappoint Adam. After promising to keep my mouth shut, doing anything else, even confiding in my best friend, feels like a betrayal.

When I get to work on Monday, I’m surprised to find his office empty. Some low-key eavesdropping tells me he’s in meetings all week which should soothe my anxiety, but for some reason has the opposite effect entirely.

It only makes me more desperate to see him.

I’m hoping the feelings I’m having will fade, but by Friday morning, a week has passed and I can think of nothing but him. The memory of his taste, the way my body still ached after having him inside me, the way he rasped my name as he claimed me like no other man ever had before… every detail of him and our night together replays on a reel inside my head. Since the moment I got out of his car, I’ve been looking for hidden meaning where I know there is none. I’ve spent days torturing myself, wondering how many other women he’s done this with since he arrived to take over the company. A part of me hopes I was different, the exception, but the miserable part of me can only pray I haven’t been the only fool to fall for his charm and ridiculously good looks. I know logically there is no one else, there can’t be. Even if there had been, it doesn’t matter. He gave the decision to me and I’m the one who chose to walk away from him and cut my ties. I keep telling myself I’m over it, but that doesn’t matter, either. No matter which way I spin the words, the ache remains the same.

By Friday afternoon, I’m going absolutely batshit crazy.

I’m completing my final report of the day, eager to put this hellacious week behind me, when something internal pulls at me and distracts me from my screen. I try to brush it off, but the sound of a familiar voice distracts me, forcing my eyes up.

It’s Adam.

He walks toward his office and disappears inside with who I have to assume is a business associate, shaking hands with him as they emerge an hour later. He says his goodbyes and his eyes flutter to mine, making me look away childishly. I can feel his gaze on mine for a moment before I hear him address Margaret the temp still working outside his office.

“Yes, sir,” she answers a question I didn’t hear clearly.

Despite how desperate I’ve been to see him all week, now that he’s here I’m hoping he’ll go back into his office and leave me to wallow in privacy. Instead, he approaches my desk, his mere closeness sending a wave through me.

“Mr. Avery,” I nod, praying my voice is steady.

“Miss Baxter,” he replies politely, his gaze smoldering with our secret as his lips quirk up. “Have a nice weekend.”

“You, too,” I manage, swallowing hard as his scent fills my lungs.

I leave shortly after, somehow managing to make it back to my apartment without screaming and am quick to lock myself inside.

“You can do this, Isabella,” I say as I pace the apartment. “You did the right thing. You don’t want him.”

I chant the lies on a never-ending loop, but even as they leave my lips, I know it’s useless.

By Sunday night, I’m climbing the walls.

 

Adam

I thought I could walk away from her unscathed. One night, amazing as it was, was exactly that. One night.

It doesn’t mean anything. At least it shouldn’t, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

I can’t stop thinking about her.

I’ve never met a woman with this kind of hold on me. I’m desperate to get her off my mind, but all I can think about is getting her back in my bed. Her moans, her taste, the way her pussy stroked my thick shaft as I threw her down on my bed and fucked her into submission… it’s all I can think about. She’s invaded my thoughts at every turn no matter how hard I try to deny it.

I’ve tried everything I can think of and nothing has worked.

I’m not in the habit of bringing women back to my place, so that’s out. Trips to the club normally did the trick, but both times I try end with me back in my car, cursing both Isabella and the way she’s wreaking havoc on my life.

I’ve never been refused before, damn sure not by someone I crave like this. She’s beautiful, intelligent, makes me laugh and is easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever encountered. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone and the fact that I can’t demand her obedience only makes matters even more frustrating.

By the time I pull into my parking space on Monday morning, the desire to bend her over my desk and fuck her until she’s bucking beneath me once more is so intense that I know I need an excuse to stay away from the office or I’ll be the one to let our secret spill.

I throw myself back into my work, grateful for the first time for the list of out of town business meetings I’ve been avoiding since my arrival. I hate them, but it gives me the out I need to keep my mind busy. I’m sure by the time I make my way back to the office at the end of the week, I’ll have purged her from my system one way or another. In fact, I feel like a new man until I swing the door open on Friday and see her blue eyes staring back at me from across the office.

Her full lower lip is nestled snugly between her teeth as a strand of her hair brushes over her collarbone. That’s all it takes to have the memory of her heavy pants overtaking my mind. She glances away almost as quickly as the thought barrages me, but the damage is already done.

My cock swells at the memory of being buried in her cunt, my jaw tensing with the craving.

My week away had done nothing to ease my cravings. If anything, I want her even more desperately than I had the morning I took her home.

I know I can’t stay here.

“Margaret, please cancel the rest of my appointments for the day,” I say politely, keeping my voice low. “Something has come up and I need to leave.”

“Yes, sir,” she nods, moving to do as I’ve asked.

If only one of my other employees was so compliant, I think to myself, shaking my head clear in annoyance.

I make my way toward the exit, the temptation to stare blatantly at the way her tits press against the fitted blouse she’s wearing taking more strength to resist than I’d like to admit.

I want to rip it from her skin like I ripped that pretty little thong of hers.

As I approach her desk, her eyes return to mine and she gives me a small smile.

“Mr. Avery,” she rasps out unsteadily, making my cock jolt once more.

Fuck, I want her.

“Miss Baxter,” I reply politely, my lips quirking up at the memory of her screaming my name as I claimed her. “Have a nice weekend.”

“You, too,” she offers, her soft, floral scent engulfing me, taking me prisoner in all the ways I wish I could take her.

Her gaze is anxious and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear by the way she peered up at me, she’s squirming in her seat.

That can’t be right, though. She’s made it clear she isn’t interested.

I have to let her go, but fuck if I know how to do that.

By the time Sunday night rolls around, I’m ravenous for her, my thoughts consumed with every detail I’d been trying so desperately to push away.

The sound of rain beating against the windows somehow soothes me, lending itself to the storm that seems to be going on inside my head. I lean back against the leather cushions of my couch, sipping on my drink in another feeble attempt to drown her from my thoughts.

The rain is so loud and I’ve had just enough to drink that I’m sure I’ve imagined it at first, but as I lift myself and move toward the bar, I hear the tapping on my door once more.

Aside from my uncle who’s on bedrest, no one knows where I live. I’m convinced it’s the doorman until I pull the door open and am engulfed by her familiar, floral scent.

“Isabella?” I start, taking her in. “What are you doing…?”

“Oh, my God,” she closes her eyes, raking her palms over her face before turning away from me. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Wait,” I call out to her as she hits the button on the elevator.

“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head, although her feet come to a stop immediately. “This was a mistake.”

“What was?” I ask, stepping between her and the doors, forcing her eyes to mine as I gently pull her hands away from her face. She’s soaked from the rain, her cheeks streaked with the rain still dripping from her hair. The emotion in her eyes stabs at me, the thought that something could have happened to her making my chest seize in ways I’ve never experienced. The emotional realization only further cements the thoughts I’ve had all week. “Isabella, what’s wrong? Are you al-”

“I’m sorry. I tried to do the right thing,” she blurts, staring back at me. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” I ask, still searching her for any signs of harm before my eyes return to her. That’s when I see it, the same desperate need in her eyes that’s been staring back at me all week. “Isabella,” I husk as my adrenaline pumps wildly in my chest and I take a step closer to her. “I need you to say it.”

“Tell me what I have to do,” she pants. “If your offer is still on the table, I’m in.”