CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Owen
I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to fuck her in the back of the limo. She was just there, and she looked amazing even though she was just wearing a pair of jeans, a filmy button-down and sneakers, and I hadn’t been able to stop myself. She was inhuman. This Midwestern girl had the ability to turn me into a wild animal, and all I had been intending to do was accompany her to the Ritz and get her settled.
At least she’d signed the NDA. I still hadn’t delved fully into my “interests” with her, but our impromptu foray had brought me closer than ever to doing so. And, in the name of all that was holy, it was the most beautiful thing I had experienced in my life.
My bedroom didn’t feel right. I stood in the center and looked around at the massive bed and the matching furniture set and the obligatory artwork by high profile artists from around the world hanging on the walls, and I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be here. After Tabby had returned to Chicago, I’d paced this room for hours on end trying to sort out why I wasn’t able to shake her from my mind, but even then it still felt like my bedroom. At this moment, it felt uncomfortable. I might as well have been standing in the bedroom of a stranger.
I knew what the problem was. When she was in Chicago, she was out of reach. I could’ve gone to her, of course, or done exactly what I did and bring her to me, but the sheer distance brought with it a sense of dispossession. She wasn’t in Chicago anymore. She was in New Orleans, and the only thing that separated us was a few miles and a hotel room door. I could go to her and take her on her Egyptian cotton sheets almost as easily as I could hunker down under my own. Restraint had come into play. I didn’t want to play, and my restraint was waning.
The limo had dropped her off well over two hours ago, but my dick was still twitching and maintained a semi-erect state. Who was this witch? What spell had she cast over me? I readjusted myself for the hundredth time and raked my fingers through my hair, groaning aloud in frustration. The clock, an exquisite piece from Germany, had to be wrong because it was claiming that I still had an hour before I was supposed to pick Tabby up to go to dinner and The Club, but my phone and my alarm clock told me the same lies so I had to believe it. When had time developed a sense of humor? I was being tortured. Every second took minutes, and every minute took hours.
She was a witch — she had to be.
I flopped onto the foot of the bed and threw my phone onto the comforter behind me. Obsessing was getting me nowhere. While I hadn’t planned on ravaging Tabby on the drive to the Ritz, I would’ve at least expected to feel a little satiated afterwards. I didn’t. My craving was as strong as ever. Stronger, maybe, because I’d never been on the verge of a fit in my desperation to see someone before. My rationality had abandoned me completely and left me pondering the logic behind tying my cock to my thigh just to keep it down.
A loud jingle erupted in the room, making me jump. I spun and seized my phone. Tabby didn’t have my number — though this was the first time I realized it and hoped I would remember to give it to her later in case she needed something while she was at the hotel. I couldn’t help thinking it was her anyway. I answered without looking at the caller ID. “Owen Driscoll.”
“Hey, handsome.” The voice was female and flirty, but it was definitely not Tabby’s. “What are you doing?”
I pulled the phone from my ear and glanced at the screen. Pippa. “Hello, Pippa.” I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment. I ignored her question and waited for her to speak again.
“I heard a little rumor through the grapevine that a certain someone is coming to The Club tonight. A certain investor someone. You might know him. He’s young and gorgeous and way too charming for his own good.” She giggled. “I hope it’s true.”
Pippa was a Club woman I’d met about two years before. She had been introduced to our secret society at the tender age of twenty-two by a longtime member, and she’d become a regular participant in the auction. While she had a college degree and a family of repute, along with a pert little ass, there was barely more than hot air between her ears and even less on her chest. I’d bid on her a handful of times and we’d had our dates, but that was it for me. Her lack of substance always had me bored before we were even finished.
“Yeah, it’s true,” I confirmed with disinterest.
“Perfect, because I’m going to be there tonight too!” she cooed.
Unfortunately, Pippa perceived our relationship from a totally different angle. While I thought our chemistry was purely physical, and sometimes minimally so, she seemed to operate under the impression that we had bonded in the way only girlfriends and boyfriends do. I’d never taken her out on a proper date, nor had she ever asked me to, but she tended to behave as though our coming together was a given. On the occasions I’d bid on someone else while she was in the auction, she had acted so hurt I might as well have married her then cheated on her with her own sister on her own bed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to offer me a heads-up she was going to be attending one of the auctions. With the development of whatever I had with Tabby, however, I’d forgotten Pippa even existed.
“That’s great.” Pointedly, I added, “I hope you get a good bidder.”
“If you’re there, I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.” My insinuated rejection had flown completely over her head. It wasn’t exactly surprising, but it was irritating.
“I hope not. I suppose it depends on who else turns out tonight,” I persisted.
There was a beat of silence this time, and I hoped my intention had landed where I’d aimed. I had the option of coming right out and telling her I wasn’t interested, that I was bringing a guest of my own and no thank you, but I had concerns about that route. Telling her I was taken for the evening allowed her time to plot an interference, and Pippa was absolutely the sort of woman to do such a thing. I didn’t want to subject Tabby to the wily ways of a needy and undeniably oblivious Club woman. Furthermore, the female associates of The Blackjack Club were the only real danger of exposure we had. No member would ever out us, but a spurned woman — well, that was a different story. It had never happened before, and of course, the NDAs were in place, but someone like Pippa was either too dense or too flighty to consider consequences and legalities when out for vengeance.
And Pippa knew. She knew all about me.
“I’ll be wearing those red panties you like,” she finally said. If sound was visible, her suggestive statement would’ve been coated in velvet and glitter. “Or I could forget about wearing any panties at all. But that’s just a secret between you and me.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Howie’s going tonight, and you know how he likes to touch your ass by pretending he was pushed into you. I’d recommend wearing underwear.”
My eyes were locked onto the wall clock in the hopes that the big hand would spin around like in a time machine scene from a science-fiction movie until it was time to leave. Not only would that mean I was about to see Tabby, but it would also mean I’d have an excuse to get off the phone with Pippa without being rude. Then again, I’d been known to make up excuses with her before, and this was the least interested in talking to her I’d ever felt.
“You know what, Pippa,” I said loudly, interrupting her drivel about thongs versus G-strings, “I have a last minute phone conference I’m about to be late for, so I’m going to have to let you go.”
“A phone conference? Are you going to make it to The Club in time?” she asked with palpable concern.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.” I tamped down my groan. “I’ll see you later, all right?”
She puffed out a breath, and I was sure she was pouting on the other end of the line. “Fine,” she whined playfully. “Just make sure you show up, or I’ll have to make a surprise stop at your house in the middle of the night tonight.”
The very idea of Pippa coming by my house at any time was obnoxious to me, but it was ever more so with my mind wrapped up in Tabby. I grimaced and repeated, “I’ll be there. Goodbye, Pippa.”
I ended the call before she could respond and threw the phone back down onto the bed. I didn’t hate Pippa by any means, but she was immature and mentally taxing to be around. She was also going to be irate that I was bringing Tabby. The evening looked like it was shaping up to be more interesting than I’d originally anticipated.