“I'd like to show you my place this weekend.”
I read the text message twice, lingering on the name of the sender to make sure I'm not imagining it. He hasn't responded to any of my text messages. He hasn't even given me any indication that he was still alive for the past few days. And now he sends me this. What the fuck?
I don't know how to respond. For a while, I think about not responding at all. He deserves as much for his latency. What am I supposed to think when he pulls this shit on me?
Despite my better judgment though, I do respond. Nothing is solid between Jeremy and I yet, and I do kind of want to see where Anders lives. I've never been inside a billionaire's house before. All I can imagine is this huge expansive mansion, sparkling swimming pools with waterfalls, and a ten car garage where he houses all of his luxury sports cars.
When he picks me up and drives me to his place though, I have to admit I'm a bit disappointed. He lives in a loft downtown overlooking the city. It's nice, but nothing at all like I was expecting.
“This is how you rich guys live it up these days?” I comment as I stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking downtown that reminds me of the one at The Billionaires Club. The view from the suites in The Billionaires Club is much more impressive. The Billionaires Club faces a forest. Anders' loft faces the city, an expanse of buildings and businesses and people. It's not very romantic.
“This isn't quite the reaction I expected,” he admits, stepping up behind me to put his arms around me. He leans in to kiss my neck, but I shy away.
“Were you on another business trip?” I ask casually.
“No. Why?” He slides one of his hands up the front of my blouse. It feels wrong allowing him to touch me after I had such an intense coffee date with Jeremy. It's like I'm cheating on him, but I'm not. I was seeing Anders before he came back into town.
“Because you didn't answer any of my texts.” I don't hide the disapproval from my tone.
“I was busy.”
“Did you even read them?” I quirk an eyebrow at his reflection in the window. He's looking down at my shoulder seductively, his lips trailing close to my ear.
“Mhm,” he mumbles against the sleeve of my blouse before pulling it over my shoulder, so he has better access to my skin.
“And what did they say?” I decide to quiz him to see if he's lying.
“You asked if I wanted to sext.”
I'm honestly surprised he did read them. “So you're telling me that you're just an asshole then,” I huff, pulling out of his grasp.
“What's wrong with you?”
“Are you really asking me that?” I gawk at him in disbelief. Could God have ever put together a more careless man?
“Yeah. I thought bringing you here would make you happy.”
“Doing things that make me happy doesn't erase all the douchy things you do. It's like you use these things to make up for it. For as hot as you are, you sure are dense.” I push past him, heading towards the door, my actions fueled by anger.
“Tessa.” He grabs my hand, turning me around to face him. “I'm doing the best I can. You have to understand that this is difficult for me.”
Why is this so difficult for him? Having courtesy for another human being isn't difficult. Spending thirty seconds answering a text message isn't difficult. He just doesn't care. He does enough to keep me around, and that's it.
My mind flashes back to Jeremy, to the things he said to me in the coffee shop. Then it goes further back to the way things were before we broke up. He was romantic and sweet and perfect. I could have that again. We could have that again. Why am I wasting my time here?
“Your best isn't good enough.” I pull out of Anders' grasp and head towards the door, dialing Evelyn's number as I walk to tell her to come pick me up.
***
“This is a nice building,” she says as I climb into the car.
“Drive,” I tell her, not interested in describing the place to her.
“Trouble in paradise again?” She rolls her eyes.
“There is no paradise here.”
He's like the forbidden fruit. Tempting but tainted. I can't keep coming back for another bite. Everything goes wrong when I taste him.
“So what now?” she asks me gently.
“Let's go home.” I stare straight out the window.
“That's not what I mean. Tell me you won't go back to him.”
“I won't, because I'm going back to Jeremy.”
A smirk curls the side of her lips. “I figured it wouldn't take long for him to sweep you off your feet again.”
“I appreciate you for planning it.”
“What?” she sounds completely shocked, but it's a fake sentiment. I can't help but laugh.
“I know you planned the whole thing, Evelyn. That's just something you'd do.”
“Well, I never.”
“Well, you did,” I giggle. “And it worked. I'm glad it worked. Thanks. I need a good guy in my life. Not . . . him.”
***
The next day, my phone is bombarded with a flurry of text messages. All of them are from Anders, responding to the ones I sent him days and even weeks ago. Everything from telling me how his day is to trying to start a sexting session. I can't tell if he's being genuine or trying to mock me, so I don't respond. Why should I? I don't want him in my life anymore.
He shows up at the house after work, and Evelyn has the good grace not to come get me. I can hear her telling him from the living room that I'm dating someone else. He begs her to let him in, but she just slams the door in his face. Go Evelyn! Then he sits outside of the house like a creeper for several hours, perhaps waiting for me to come outside. I really don't know what to make of it. Who does something like that?
At work the following day, I receive a bouquet of roses only an hour after I get there. Initially, I think they're from Jeremy, and it puts a smile on my face. Then I read the card. It says, “Please forgive me. Anders.”
For as much as I want to scowl, I can't force it. Anders doesn't seem like the type of guy who would send a girl flowers. And though I want to hate him, he has gone above and beyond to make up for all the dick things he's done. It's even kind of romantic how hard he's trying to win me back.
An hour later, I receive another bouquet. This time it's lilies. The card reads. “I don't know what kind of flowers you like, so I'm going to keep trying until I get it right. Anders.” Thirty minutes later, I receive tulips.
It's awkward getting so many flowers when you have nowhere to put them. By the end of the day, I have eight different bouquets with eight different messages from Anders. I line the bouquets up on the sides of my cashier podium, making a colorful display. All I can think about is how I'm going to get the flowers to my car when my shift is over. His affection for me, though sweet, is more of an inconvenience than anything else. He's the kind of guy that either does too little or too much. There's no in between.
When he shows up at the end of my shift, I can't say I'm not relieved. He's wearing a glowing smile, but I don't return it, letting him know he's not out of the water yet.
“Do you like them?” he asks as he approaches me.
“Why did you send so many?” I furrow my brow at him.
His expression takes on an air of confusion. “I thought women liked flowers.”
“Women like one bouquet of flowers, preferably when they work in an office where they have somewhere to put them.” I gesture to the bouquets on the floor in their vases.
He sighs, looking deflated, “I guess I just keep messing up with you.”
“Help me carry these out to my car. That will be a good start to fixing things.”
Even with the two of us carrying vases, it takes two trips to get all the flowers out to my car.
“So do you forgive me?” he asks when we finish organizing the bouquets so that they don't get crushed.
“Even if I do forgive you, it doesn't change things,” I tell him, though I can't look him in the eyes when I say it.
“It's true then,” his voice goes somber. “You're seeing someone else. Fucking someone else.”
“I'm not fucking anyone,” I insist with a sigh. Is that seriously all he cares about?
“Then it's not to late.” His face lights up with hope.
“It is too late.”
“You're dating him. What happened to us being exclusive together?”
“You don't care. You don't treat us like a relationship. That's what happened to us.”
“Come home with me. Come home with me and we'll talk about this.”
“That's not why you really want me to come home with you.” I cross my arms over my chest, eying him suspiciously. He wants to fuck. That's all he ever wants to do with me.
“It is. I need you, Tessa. You're all I ever think about. When Evelyn told me yesterday . . .” his voice trails off and he looks away from me. Behind his blue eyes I see pain. Real genuine pain.
“We can talk,” I tell him softly.
***
I'm in his loft again, and I feel just as uncomfortable and distant as I did the last time I was here. I'm staring out the window while he's making us drinks. It's like I'm at The Billionaires Club all over again, except this is an uglier version. This is the real-life version. The streets below are a strange reminder of that. There's no beauty here.
He steps up behind me and pushes a glass of bourbon into my hand. “On the rocks,” he says. “You like it that way, if I recall correctly.”
The fact that he remembers surprises me, but it's not enough to win me over. I take a long sip as he massages my shoulders from behind. More romantic sentiment. I'm not falling for it.
“I've missed you so much,” he whispers against my neck, leaning in to kiss me.
“Stop.” I pull away from him. “I told you I'm not here to do this.”
“What do you want from me, Tessa? What would it take to make things right again?” his voice is calm but serious.
“It's too late for that. You can't be the man I need you to be.”
“You're probably right,” he relents. “I'm set in my ways, and I'm not the most romantic person. I'm selfish and sometimes self-absorbed, and I love sex a lot.”
I laugh, “That's an understatement.”
“I'm good at it though,” he quips.
“You're very good at it,” I admit, taking a long sip of the bourbon. I don't know if it's the alcohol or what, but just the mention of sex is making my body warm.
Perhaps he knows his charm is working on me. He chances stepping up behind me again. This time, he hooks his arms around my waist, making sure I can't escape him.
“I need you, Tessa. I can't live without you,” he purrs into my ear. “I need to be inside you.” His hands slide up under my blouse, and I can feel the bulge of his manhood against my backside. His body needs me. His heart doesn't. I know I should pull away, but my own desire keeps me firmly rooted in place.
“I don't want this,” I whisper helplessly, though my body betrays my words.
“We both want this.” He carefully takes my glass of bourbon and sets it down on the coffee table. It's the perfect chance for me to escape, but I don't even try. My body is casting my emotional needs to the wind. Right now, I just need him inside of me. He's so devastatingly beautiful. If I get back with Jeremy, I'll never have this again. I need one more taste of him. Just one more taste.
By the time he returns to me, I'm putty in his hands. I moan softly when he kisses my neck, savoring the feel of his touch as he moves to undress me. It doesn't matter if there are people below staring up at us. All that matters is that I'm with him like this, that we're about to be together again.
He pulls me back against him, cupping my naked breasts. My nipples harden from his touch, and I groan shamelessly as he pinches and twists them, shooting tendrils of need down to my sex. I push my ass into him, feeling his cock swell beneath his slacks.
“You're so fucking hot,” he tells me. “I have to have you.”
“Then have me,” I say, turning around to undress him. Our eyes meet, and a strange stirring rolls through my body. Usually he's the predatory one. But tonight, there's mutual want. We burn into each other with a desire strong enough to ignite the world. I need him just as much as he needs me.
He leads me into the bedroom, and that's where the gentleness ends. Our bodies crash together like waves breaking against rock. If I've ever held someone closer to me, I can't remember. Our mouths taste and savor and explore. His hands seek out every pleasure zone I have. When the pad of his thumb touches my clit, I almost immediately fire off. Just knowing that he's about to be inside of me is enough to throw me over the edge.
He backs me up to the bed, mercilessly spreading my legs to lick between my folds from asshole to clit. That's just to lubricate me though. He can't be bothered with foreplay. He has to be inside.
I watch him put a condom on, and then he guides his glans to my waiting heat. When he starts to push into me, I grind up to meet him, swallowing him whole.
“You're so fucking greedy,” he growls against my lips before he starts thrusting.
“So greedy,” I agree, wanting to feel him ravage me. My engorged clit is throbbing from want for him, from the excitement of having him like this. “It's so good. Always so good.”
“Only with you. Fuck, I thought I would die without this.” His body is unrelenting. He grabs onto one of my legs, pulling it up over his shoulder and pounds into me. All I can do is cry out and moan and brace myself for the climax to come. No one fucks like he does. No one. I'm practically crying from the intensity of it.
“I can't take it. It's too much,” I whimper.
“This is what you wanted. This is what you came here for.” He kisses my calf, never missing a beat.
“Yes! Yes!” Whether it's a lie or not, I don't know. Right now, it feels like the truth though.
“You can't live without my cock.”
“Can't live without it.”
He slips a hand between my legs, mercilessly massaging out my pleasure. His thumb moves so deftly over my clit. It's like his hand is programmed to know exactly what my body needs. My back arches off the bed, pushing him deeper into me as another earth-shattering orgasm wrecks me.
“That's it. Come for me, love. You're so fucking beautiful when you come.” He fills me completely, feeling the contractions squeeze his cock and pulse beneath his thumb.
When my orgasm subsides, he grips onto my leg again and picks up the pace, aiming for his own release. I watch him, mesmerized by how amazing his body is, wondering if I will ever be able to give him up. I hate myself for being unable to resist him.
“Oh yeah,” he groans as he nears the home stretch.
“Come inside me. Fill my pussy,” I spur him on. If only he wasn't wearing a condom. I need to get on birth control. But why? I swore I'd give this up. Give him up. How can I when it feels so good though?
Jeremy never made me feel like this. Never made me come like this. His lovemaking is sweet and slow. Anders fucks. And as strange as it sounds coming from someone who is a proclaimed hopeless romantic, I love being fucked.
“Shit. I'm going to come,” Anders warns before releasing inside of me. I love the way he drives deeply into me for that final blow. I feel his cock swell, and I know his body is spent. It's so good. So ridiculously good.
He collapses on top of me, and I hold him against me, kissing his neck and shoulder and raking my fingers through his hair. This is one of my favorite parts of having sex with him. This closeness. Of course, it never lasts long.
He rolls off of me and crawls up onto the bed, gesturing for me to join him. I wiggle up on the bed beside him, resting against him with my head on his chest. His heart is beating fiercely from the intense sex we just had. He strokes my hair affectionately, then kisses me on top of the head.
“God I've missed you,” he says.
“You've missed having sex with me.” I smirk, hiding the pain behind those words.
“No. I've missed you. I was worried I'd never have this with you again.”
“You won't ever have it with me again,” the happiness leaves my voice, though I don't pull away from him. I need to savor this just as much as he does.
“Please don't see him again. Whoever you were seeing. Don't see him again. Stay with me,” he's almost pleading, and he pulls me even tighter against him.
“It's my ex-boyfriend. We broke up because he went into the military, but now he's stationed here. We probably never would have broken up had we known he was going to end up back here.” There's no point in hiding the truth. Even though Anders has done a lot of shitty things to me, I feel like he deserves to know at least this much.
“I never would have let you go. Not for any reason. Not ever.”
His words are so romantic, not characteristic of him at all. I don't know what to make of it.
“Well, he's back now. And he wants me back. And he's emotionally stable, and I think we'll do well together.”
“I don't want you to get back with him.”
“That's not your choice.” The conversation is quickly getting awkward. For the first time ever, I wish we were at the part where he gets dressed and kicks me out. He doesn't seem interested in that though. He doesn't seem to want to let me go. Any other time, I would have dreamed of this. Now though, it's too little too late.
“Let's go out on a date together.”
“A date?” It's such a sudden change of subject.
“Yes, a date. Right now. You're not with him yet, right?”
“No,” I hesitate. “We haven't gotten back together yet.”
“Then it won't kill you to go on a date with me.” He rolls out of bed and heads to his closet. I expect him to pull out another business suit. He never wears anything but business suits around me. To my surprise though, he tosses a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on the bed.
I sit up, completely confused. “What's this all of a sudden?”
“I want to take you out on a date. Is there something wrong with that?” he asks as he pulls a pair of boxer briefs from his chest of drawers and steps into them. I catch myself licking my lips as the tight material slips over his firm ass.
“I already told you, it's too late.” I shake my head, feeling like I'm in some strange fantasy.
“It's never too late to go out on a date. We can do whatever you want. Dinner. A movie. Dancing.”
“Dancing.” I make an unpleasant face. I can't dance to save my life. The thought of going to a movie with him is intriguing. But if we're going to spend one last night together, I'd like it to be in a setting where I can press him to talk. If we go to dinner together, he'll be forced to talk to me. “I'm hungry,” I say finally.
“What are you hungry for?”
More of your cock, I think deviously as I stare at his crotch while he slides on his jeans. Definitely the body of an underwear model.
“Tessa. Eyes up here.” He takes two fingers and points to his eyes. I burst out laughing, completely embarrassed. A giddy feeling takes over me because he's actually joking with me for once, being lighthearted. This is a side of him that I've never seen before.
I crawl off the bed and start dressing as well, thinking about the best place for us to go. I want somewhere normal, no expensive fancy restaurants. I want to see how he acts in the general public.
“Let's get Taco Bell,” I say finally.
“Taco Bell?” He grimaces.
“What? Are you too good for Taco Bell?” I saunter up to him and poke his chest.
“No. I'm just scared of what it will do to me later.”
I like this side of him. It's so adorable. So human.
“You want me. I want Taco Bell.”
“Well, I'm glad we fucked before we ate, then.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Shut up, you. Let's go before I change my mind.”
***
We get to the restaurant, and of course, he orders the healthiest thing on the menu. And a water. A fucking water.
I feel like a fat ass by comparison with my Taco Supreme, Beefy 5-Layer Burrito, and a large Coke. If he had ordered first, I wouldn't have made such a tool out of myself.
“Can you not be health conscious for one day?” I glare at his dainty little Fresco Chicken Soft Taco. Just one. Heaven forbid he gets two.
“I am a representative of the fitness industry. I have an image to maintain.” He smirks at me. To add insult to injury, he dissects the taco, only eating the meat and vegetables out of it. I hate him.
In response, I take a giant bite of my burrito, chewing noisily. “Mmm Fat. You can keep your twenty-pack abs. I'm going to enjoy my food.”
“You do that,” he laughs, and it's music to my ears.
“You know, I like you better when you're not so stuffy.”
“Is that so?” He seems amused.
Dare I say it, I'm actually enjoying this date.
“So, Mister Fitness Guru. Tell me something about yourself. Something I don't know already,” I say before taking another bite of my burrito.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why you're so damned insistent on me being exclusive to you. When we started out, this was just sex, yes?”
He bites his bottom lip as he looks down at the contents of his mangled taco. Just seeing that shy expression on his face turns me on. I silently chastise myself for being horny. We just had sex less than an hour ago. What's wrong with me?
“I'm not sure it ever was just the sex,” he confesses, and my heart almost stops.
“What do you mean?”
“That first time I saw you in The Billionaires Club. Hell, the first time I even saw your picture, I knew I wanted you. Did you know that someone else almost got you instead of me?”
“Is that so?” I look away in thought, wondering what it would have been like if I had been paired with a different billionaire. Would I have had a better time? Would I have ever left The Billionaires Club? Would my life be so complicated right now?
“I rock, paper, scissored for you.”
“You what?” My gaze shoots up to meet his.
“I played rock, paper, scissors to have you. I got lucky enough to win. I'm glad I did.” He takes a bite of chicken.
“That's kind of funny. Who was the other guy?”
“A lawyer.”
“Sounds boring.” I have no idea what the guy looks like, but I try to picture him anyways. Probably older than Anders, with black hair and a firm jaw. I imagine him having steely gray eyes. Hard eyes. He would have been strictly business and known better than to take things outside of The Billionaires Club. “You're diverting from the question,” I say.
“No, I'm not.” He shrugs. “After I met you, I knew I wanted you. It's not anymore complicated than that.”
“You knew you wanted to keep having sex with me.” I'm trying hard to understand. I really am.
“Yes. But I also knew I didn't want you to have sex with anyone else.”
“That's kind of selfish.” I finish off the burrito and crumple up the wrapper before setting in on my taco.
“Maybe. I want what I want.”
“And you're used to getting what you want, I assume.”
“Usually,” he admits nonchalantly.
“But not this time,” I remind him.
He places both of his elbows on the table, giving me a serious look. “I don't know why you're so resistant towards me. You know I care about you. You know I want to be with you.”
“Well you have a funny way of showing it.” I roll my eyes. “Never responding to my text messages. Only showing up when it's convenient for you. Just wanting sex. Maybe that's why your wife left you.” I don't care if my words sting. I need to get it across to him that he's a shitty boyfriend and was probably a shitty husband too.
“I divorced Angela,” he says coldly, “because she was cheating on me.”
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, and I suddenly feel like complete shit.
“That's why I have issues with being possessive,” he continues. “That's also why I was afraid to invest in the relationship.”
“Oh my God, Anders. I had no idea. I'm so sorry.” I genuinely feel remorse for what I've said. That explains everything. If he had just told me sooner, I wouldn't have been so hard on him.
He stares into my eyes from across the table. “Believe me when I say I want to be with you. I'm just not very good at this, not after what happened. I'll try to be better though. For you.”