Amelia
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My phone buzzes, and I press the intercom. “Yes.”
“Mr. Baldwin, line one.”
Fuck. “Tell him I’m busy.”
I swear I can hear Mary’s grin through the phone. “No can do. I already told him you’re free for lunch.”
“You’re fired.”
“Yeah, yeah, answer the man.”
I snatch my phone off the cradle. “Mr. Baldwin, what do you want?”
“Loaded question, sugar. For now we’ll start with lunch. I’m running behind today, I’ll meet you at Porters in twenty minutes.”
“I’m going to charge you for this lunch.”
“Hmm...interesting, role-playing a hooker. A very expensive one at fifteen hundred dollars, though. Be careful, when they charge that much usually everything is open for business.” I gasp. Bastard. The fucker laughs; I think I hate him. “Twenty minutes, Porters. Or I’ll bring it to you and you’ll pay with five to be doled out today.”
He’s doing it again, twisting me up, getting me all hot and achy without even being in front of me. I have never in my life imagined role-playing during sex, and here I am wondering about playing an escort bought for the night, owned by someone to do with as they wanted, and it’s making me wet. And I’m actually considering making him wait just so he’ll deliver on his threat of a spanking.
Damn him. The man is driving me crazy. I did it again last night, I dreamed of him. Only this time I dreamed of him with half a dozen little girls running around our home giggling, with adorable dimples and bright blue eyes. He could not have been serious about not caring about me getting pregnant, about wanting children. My phone beeps before Mary comes through.
“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late.”
With the Pentonie deal all but done, and the suit against him not going anywhere until Ethan gets back, I’ll no longer represent him. I pop up without saving my work. I’m doing this, really, seriously doing this. I’m the one who needs my head checked.
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I get to the restaurant to find Chris waiting for me. The hostess is flirting with him. The desire to smack the smile off her face is so strong I clench my hand. Chris’s hand goes to my back sliding down to the curve, and it soothes my anger even as it brings fire to my body. I move where I’m guided, once again to the back of the restaurant. It’s empty except for our table.
The moment Chris’s hand is gone I miss it. Annoyance has me snapping at him. “I can’t believe you’ve turned my secretary against me. Did you pay her or something?”
“She cares about you, no amount of cash would her turn against you. Don’t be a brat. I’m thinking you might need a spanking now instead of waiting two weeks.” He looks around. “It’s quiet enough back here.”
His seriousness has me going still. “Absolutely not, I never even agreed to let you do that. Do you get your rocks off on BDSM stuff, hurting women or something?”
“Amelia.” One word, yet it contains so much more. “I’m not usually into spanking as sex play, definitely not into it for discipline or BDSM. I threatened you with a spanking to get your attention and to see if I was right, and I was. You want to give in, to give up control in bed, which is good because it’s exactly how I like it. Pain doesn’t make my cock hard. However, small amounts of pain can add to pleasure. All pain is by hand only, no toys because I need to feel your body’s reaction for myself. Pleasure is the only thing that makes my cock hard. Hearing a woman moaning my name, gasping for air, the taste of her need on my tongue, the way a woman’s pussy clenches, ripples, and clutches me to keep my cock inside her because it feels so fucking good she doesn’t want to let me go. Those are the things that make my cock hard.”
Yes, please, all of it is what I want to whimper. Instead, I blush like an idiot until he smiles and winks at me, then looks down at his menu. Our waitress arrives, smiling, with a sparkling water with lime for me. “How are you doing today?”
“Good, thanks. I’ll have the porterhouse medium, the tater tots, and the asparagus.”
“Okay, and you, sir?”
“The same except I’ll have the roasted red potatoes. I’ll also have a sparkling water with lemon.”
“All right, coming right up.”
Trying to take control of situation spinning wildly out of control, I stiffen my back. “I’m still charging you for this. Ethan would expect it, you’re lucky my rate is a thousand, though, not Ethan’s fifteen hundred.”
“Interesting. I’ll need to make sure I get my money’s worth then. Damn, I love how responsive your body is. Your nipples just popped out for attention. So the hooker thing turned you on. I like the sound of it. I’ve never paid for it before, there’s a first time for everything.”
I refuse to look down because I can feel very miserably the truth of his words. “I’m shocked, I would have thought paying for it would solve many of your problems. No hooker wants to get knocked up; at the end of the night they leave when the job is done.”
He nods. “Very true, you pay a prostitute not so she’ll come, it’s so she’ll leave. I never had to, but there’s a first time for everything. If I’m going to be a first for you, then it seems about right that you’ll be a first for me.”
“Am I supposed to be honored or something? I’m not. I’m sure there are plenty of strippers waiting for you in the clubs who would be. You’re free to go find them at any time.”
Chris goes very still with the glass up to his lips. He doesn’t drink though; he sets it down carefully, then raises his eyes to meet mine. It’s as if I stepped outside naked, they’re so cold. I shiver. “Behave, you’re trying my patience.”
The waitress brings us our plates with a smile, asking if we need anything else, and we both decline. I’m not in the mood to eat though, still uneasy from the warning in Chris’s eyes. I hate him for doing this to me, turning me inside out, causing my emotions to run riot with a look or a few words. It feels like he’s playing with me. “I’m really not hungry. I want to go to work. I’m tired of being used as something for you to amuse yourself with.”
His bark of laughter is loud in the large, empty room. “Me use you? If anyone is using anyone, it’s you using me. Don’t worry, I’ll let you use me.”
I’m blinking fast. “Me, use you?”
“Yes, sugar, you’re using me. Usually, it wouldn’t matter to me why a woman wanted to fuck me as long as she did. I guess today is a day for revelations for the both of us. You didn’t know your pussy gets wet at the idea of being owned, and I didn’t know my cock goes limp at the idea of being used by you.”
I am not hurt by his annoyance, but I do know he’s nuts. “You are seriously not in your right mind. I’m not using you. You’re the one talking dirty, who keeps coming after me. I told you the first time I met you that us hooking up doesn’t make sense and it’s not what I want. How the hell is this on me?”
He sighs, and I fight the urge to kick him for it. “You eat me up with your eyes; I can smell your pussy wet for me. Your tits swell and sway, and you thrust them out the minute you catch me looking. Fine, I get it, you don’t even realize you’re doing it, but you are doing it. I’m really supposed to just walk away from you?
“Sugar, since you are so completely clueless, I’ll tell you right now the way you want me—so bad you ache, so bad you can’t think straight, so bad you’re willing to take a chance you never thought you’d take—that kind of want and need doesn’t happen very often, and you aren’t the only one feeling it.
“What pisses me off is you’re willing to take all I want to give you without giving it back. You’re trying to figure out how to get the cheese out of the trap without setting it off. I’m the bad boy who fucks at will, used to any chick riding my cock and giving orgasms until a woman can’t move from it. So you figure if he’s giving it out to anyone, why not you? That, that’s what pisses me off.
His jaw is tight, his eyes are the color of the arctic in winter, freezing me to the empty, hollow of my chest. “You aren’t willing to be bad, to get dirty. You want to stay the good girl, sweet, kind, never causes a fuss. Shit, woodland creatures probably clean your place while you sit on your perfectly plump ass sipping on your coffee, while you read the day away. Books where there’s nothing more than a proper, close-mouthed kiss before it fades to black, where the men are noble, dickless prisses who ask for kisses instead of taking them. I’m going to be the villain in the story who sneaks in and takes you. You’ll give in without ever giving anything up, not your good girl image, not yourself, just your body.”
I hate him. I fucking hate him. I blink, and tears fall. I hate him even more for sighing at the sight of them. Pushing away from the table, my legs are trembling so badly I feel like I’m fighting to stay standing during an earthquake. I want to make my escape from him, from all of this, but not until it’s clear this is all his damn fault. “So it’s my fault for buying into the image you sold of yourself? I’m to blame because I’m willing to take what you keep telling me you’re willing to give? I told you I’m not on your level, the very first day. You’re major league, and I wouldn’t even make it into the little league.
“I’ve fucked three men, okay? Three, and each of them miserable experiences that left me questioning if it was over, if it was safe to just crawl away and hide. I don’t know what you want from me to know if I can even give it to you or not. You say a few weeks, then you joke about kids. You fuck with my head until I don’t know—”
I was so wrapped up in my rant I never saw him move, his hands go down to my hips before bringing me up against him. Oh god, he’s hard, so very hard and pressing into my stomach. Immediately, my knees go weak as I sag against him. His mouth grazes against my ear. “Shh...sugar, take a deep breath. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you even though damn it, Amelia, you started it. Walking in the door spitting fire, cranky as all hell, looking for a fight. Congratulations, you got your wish. I’m never going to be able to deny you what you want—I knew it the minute I laid my eyes on you.
“Amelia,” This time my name is throbbing with all his frustration. “I need you to be honest with me, and the real hard part here, with yourself. I get that it’s hard for you, for reasons only you know. It doesn’t matter, you need to figure out how. The crappy history with men, that I guessed at, but I never would have thought it was so bad. You make more sense than ever now.
“I’ll slow down, let you catch up. Normally, I’m more patient. You have a way of setting me off faster than anyone I’ve ever met. Take a breath, there you go, another one.” A large warm hand cups my cheek, his thumb wiping tears away. I find the courage to meet his eyes, and the awe in them stuns me. There is no teasing, no anger, nothing but pure awe. “Even crying you’re beautiful.”
“Oops, sorry.” The waitress is blushing as she backs out of the room.
God, how embarrassing. It gives me the strength to take a step back. I’m still mad at him, confused, hurt; this is too much for me to handle. Shaking my head, “I keep telling you not to touch me, then you do things like this. What if she talks to the press? If I get suspended, I will never forgive you. I’m out of here before you do any more damage to my reputation.”
His face hardens, his eyes cold. “If you walk away now, I won’t follow you. You’ll get what you say you’re wanting. I’ll find someone else to fuck tonight. I’ll stay deep in her pussy until I forget all about yours. Go to the restroom, clean up, and while you’re in there, grow up. If you come back to the table we continue, if not then have a nice boring life.”
The threat chills me because it isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. I run before I go down on my knees and beg him to forgive me. I’m relieved the restroom is empty. Ugh, the mirror calls Chris a liar, yet I can’t get the awe out of my head. He believed what he was saying; it was his truth. Chris thinks I’m beautiful, me, fat, broken Amelia Bishop. I’m stunned by the thought.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I lean my head against the cool tile. I can’t do this. I just can’t. Chris was right—I was willing to use him, willing to give in but not give back, to allow him to take me without ever admitting I wasn’t just an active participant, I wanted him. Hearing it out loud, his anger is completely understandable. It’s a shitty way to act, to think. It’s no wonder he’s lost patience with me; he’s been a hell of a lot more patient than I deserve. Only, it doesn’t change the fact I am boring. No matter how hard I try I’m not for him. By the time he rolls off me he’ll have forgotten me, and I’m not strong enough to deal with that.
Once out of the stall, I don’t bother to clean up my makeup. Instead, I wash my face clean. This is over; I’m done.
When I open the door to the restroom Chris is waiting for me. Does he see it? He stiffens before I even open my mouth. “I have to go back to work, now.”
Slowly, he nods. Without a word, only five minutes later we’re out on the sidewalk with Chris hailing a cab. A tall, thin man is taking our picture, damn it, fucking shit. This combined with the waitress catching us in the back is so not what I need. Karen is going to be pissed. “Hey, Chris, taking a break from strippers?”
Chris doesn’t answer the question before he gets in beside me. “Amelia.” One word; how does he put so much into one word? I shake my head. I can’t do this now, not in the back of a cab.
My phone rings, and I see it’s Mary. “Yes?”
“Oliver Morgan is in the office—something big went down. He’s three shades of white. Get in here now.”
Shit, Morgan is my biggest client. “I’m on my way back, ten minutes.”
The sidewalk is on my side, and I open the door. “Have a nice, boring life.” There’s no soft drawl, the words are hard as rocks tossed at my soft skin.
He’s not even looking at me, his face turned to the window on his side. I tell myself it’s what I want even as I blink away tears.
***
Amelia
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Mary lets me know she’s going home for the night. I thank her for staying late while I talked Oliver off his cliff. His daughter was refusing to have her fiancé sign a prenuptial agreement. A few hours buried in trust paperwork has the woman safe if the guy is after her money.
I nod, then go back to staring blankly at my computer. Only I can’t keep my eyes on the screen, they go back to the gorgeous vase and flowers on the edge of my desk. I know the vase is Lalique my mother collects it, I’m trying to tell myself it can’t be as expensive as I know it is. The vase filled with flowers arrived only an hour after he left; did he arrange for them before lunch or after? Would he really have sent them after he told me to have a nice boring life? There’s no note, not even his name on a card. What did they mean if he did?
I long to touch the vase, to trace the etching of the flowers, dahlias that match the blood-red dahlias in the vase. The bouquet is beautiful, fitting the vase perfectly. Deep red dahlias in various stages of bloom take center stage, while sweet pea in soft pink softens the edges of the bold, dark dahlias and give off a light perfume that teases my senses the same way Chris does. I’m not sure why the flowers surprise me, considering the way the man hasn’t stopped surprising me since the moment I met him.
The way he goes between casual jeans and sweaters to elegantly cut-to-fit suits with ease, comfortable in both, isn’t something most men can carry off. He threw me off again when he told me he trusted me to handle the negotiation—he believed in my skill as a lawyer, not because he wanted me. Then the accusations he hurled at me today. Every single one of them true and edged with a bitterness he couldn’t hide.
I’m ashamed as I think about the way I acted, the way I tried to excuse my actions. I would have laid there, eyes closed, telling myself the whole time I was giving up to his wants while never admitting it was my desire. With all my protesting on the record, I could give plausible deniability—I was saying no when I meant yes.
I was begging for him while I was pushing him away. All because I’m afraid to own up to wanting Chris Baldwin, the baddest boy in baseball. I’m afraid I’ll fail miserably at what he wants from me. I’m afraid once he has me, he’ll realize he doesn’t want me. Why would he want me when he could have so many others?
Tears come, then fall. I can’t. I’m not equipped to handle this, to handle him. Being with Chris will swallow me whole and I’ll be lost. I spot the paperwork Chris already signed and sent back. Closing my eyes tight, I’m ready to admit the plan was never to settle at three five. Walking into the room, I was going to ask for three million and would have been happy to settle anywhere above two million. Yet the moment they tossed the insulting offer I knew was coming, the growing feelings I have for Chris took over. I got emotional; it was personal, not business. Which is exactly why attorneys should never get involved with their clients.
I haven’t filed a response to the lawsuit against Chris yet—he has a month to do so. It will take time for the suit filed against him to work its way before a judge; in all likelihood it won’t happen before Ethan gets back. For all intents and purposes I’m no longer his attorney. Too bad it wasn’t before the pictures of us went out.
When I looked for the one from today, I found another from yesterday. I went red at the way we were looking at each other in the first picture; no way would anyone believe there wasn’t something going on between us. The captions weren’t rude.
I’d only ever been in the paper for awards, usually for work I did on a pro-bono basis, twice for major wins. Between my reputation and Ethan’s willingness to draw blood if he felt slighted and any slight on his family was a slight on him I’m not surprised the papers were kind. Still, it doesn’t matter if they were nice about wondering what a fat ass like me was doing with the gorgeous Christopher Baldwin; it matters our pictures were in the paper.
It doesn’t matter that it isn’t sexual, yet—looks count, and from the picture there was definite eye fucking going on. Karen hasn’t called me on it. I don’t know if it’s because she hasn’t seen it, or she isn’t interested in hearing me lie again. I’m leaving this firm, but I don’t know yet if I want to leave law entirely. I do know getting my ass reamed before the ABA is not a good way to find another job as a lawyer. I pick up the phone for the courier company we use. They promise they’ll be here within a half hour.