Текст книги "Fight You"
Автор книги: Cynthia Dane
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Chapter 23
KATHRYN
Sometimes a girl has to wrap herself up in bed for a day and hope the world doesn’t bother her. I’m not even answering my door, and I think I’ve missed a package or two. Who cares? I’ve got better things to do, like watch TV from my bed and feel sorry for myself.
Stupid. I was so stupid to entertain the idea that Ian cares more about me than what he could get from my cunt. I bet he enjoyed taking someone like me and turning her into a sub for a round or two. Not many men get to say they tamed a Domme and got to come on her face.
Blah. Kill me.
The only person to see me in this state today is Anita, who has a key and comes and goes with food. What else is she supposed to do? I had errands to run and it’s not a scheduled day off for her. Might as well keep her busy while I waste away like a mob of heartbroken…
Ah, fuck no! I refuse to label myself as heartbroken!
“The doorman signed for these and asked that I bring them up to you.” Anita shuffles into my room and leaves two small packages on my dresser. I see cat food in her hand… almost forgot about the kitten sleeping in the other room. Would be nice if Sinéad joined me in my bed, but I doubt that’s going to happen. “Is there anything else you need from me? It’s almost dinner. I could get you take-out.”
I wave a lazy hand at her. “I’ve got leftovers. Pizza. Half a carton of Chinese food. I haven’t been in the mood to cook lately.”
Anita nods, but does not hurry to leave. It’s not only curiosity on her face. It’s genuine concern. That would be sweet, except I’m not in the mood to deal with someone’s concern.
“Well, if that’s all you need…”
“Go home, Anita. If I suddenly decide I need something that badly, I have your number.” I won’t need something that badly.
She takes her leave with barely a goodbye. Suits me fine. I like Anita. She’s a good assistant, but I’ve never seen her as a friend. Our relationship is strictly professional.
Unlike my relationship with Ian.
Groaning, I hide beneath my covers and try not to think of the bastard. I still can’t believe he said those awful things in front of our parents! Then he had the balls to follow me out and ask why I was upset? Most of all, I can’t believe I basically told him that I’m falling in love – with him. Of all people.
He’s so fucking clueless. I was so fed up with him yesterday that I got a ride home with my dad. That was one silent, awkward drive back into the city, let me tell you.
Sometimes I wish my mother were better at being a mother. That she was here, or at least nearby, and available to help me through these issues. Sure, I could call her. Then we run into the problem of her being terrible at the advice and comfort thing. I got used to it long ago. Yet when shit like this happens I could really use an experienced heart that is full of unconditional love.
I’m a billionaire, and I can’t even buy that.
Speaking of, don’t get me started on the presence of Hollywood starlet Stephanie. The only thing my father and I could talk about on the drive into town was Dominic Mathers waltzing in with not only a very young woman, but a woman his son had dated. I was hesitant to say that Ian and Stephanie had sex – so I heard through the grapevine, of course – but Dad eventually got it out of me. Once that tidbit hit his ears, he made a sour face that said Dominic thought more with his dick than his head.
“Man is a terrific businessman. Terrible boyfriend and husband. Father, too, apparently.”
I could tell you how much I wanted to laugh but couldn’t, but you probably have a good idea as it is.
“Kathryn.”
Here, beneath my covers, I’m convinced that I don’t hear a thing. I especially do not hear a man’s voice. I don’t hear a man’s voice that has no business being in my apartment that is locked to the outside world. And it’s definitely not Ian, the man I want to see less than I want to get an infection.
Nevertheless, I lower my covers and see Ian standing in my bedroom doorway.
“How the hell did you get in here?”
“I caught your assistant on her way out. I, er, convinced her to let me in without announcement.”
“She’s fired.”
“Katie.”
I toss back the cover and thrash to the other side of my bed. I look like hell, wearing nothing more than a pair of cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt. My hair is a fucking mess. I haven’t brushed it since yesterday.
If I’m too grotesque for this world, Ian doesn’t let on.
“Don’t call me that,” I finally say. “The woman you call Katie isn’t here.”
He approaches my bed, dressed in his usual work clothes of crisp pants, a red tucked-in shirt, black and red striped tie, and heavy charcoal jacket that looks too warm for this summery weather. There’s a five-o-clock shadow covering his jaw, giving him a hint of a disheveled bad boy look in his otherwise pristine outfit.
I hate that I want him in my arms.
“Are you sure?” Ian puts down his briefcase. “I’m looking at her right now.”
Our eyes meet, mine bloodshot and covered in goop. The hazel of his eyes is particularly sharp today. It’s like everything I find physically attractive about him has come out in full force. The only way this could be worse is if he takes off his clothes and shows me the physique he works hard in the gym to achieve.
I wonder how fucking sexy he is bench pressing and jogging on a treadmill while reading a book or watching the news, sweat seeping through his clothes.
“You can’t flatter me,” I say. “You need to leave. I’ll call security downstairs.”
“I can’t leave until we talk through this.”
“What the fuck, Ian? I said everything I already have to say. You’re the one creepily breaking into people’s houses and acting like you’re entitled to something.”
“I don’t think I’m entitled to anything. I would, however, like to talk.” He gestures to the foot of my bed. “Can I sit?”
“Oh, you’re asking me for permission? It must be my birthday.”
Like the entitled bastard he is, Ian sits on my bed, his hand dangerously close to the crease where my feet are.
“I’m sorry, Kathryn.”
I let the silence simmer around us. All you can hear in my bedroom is the ticking of a wiry clock and the slight hum of the air conditioner. My soundproofed windows keep out the street noises, but I imagine there are cop cars, kids laughing, and adults yelling at one another. Birds chirping. Dogs barking.
Life.
In here, it’s two people awkwardly interacting.
“Sorry about what?” This should be good.
Ian rearranges himself so he’s facing me, his tie slapping against the bed and his shirt wrinkling to meet his poor posture. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday at my house. That was rude of me to say, and not even how I really feel.”
Not how he really feels? Then why the hell did he say them? For fun? I wouldn’t put it past him. “You embarrassed me in front of our families.” Granted, I hadn’t improved the situation with my further comments, but I’m conveniently leaving that out. I was pushed to say them, after all.
“I want you to know something.”
He waits for me to reply. “What? Make it good. I have no patience and you’re about five seconds away from getting the official boot.”
You’d never guess I said those words to him just now. He’s too complacent. “When you walked away from me yesterday, I worried that I wouldn’t see you again. Funny, isn’t it? I know I’ll have to see you for work, even if we’re too pissed to work closely together. Yet I had it in my head that you were going to become some enigma from my past. The kind of woman who haunts me when I’m trying to sleep.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. Where did he learn this speech? Some how-to site? “Also the woman whose name you call during sex. Even if you’re not fucking her at the time.”
“That too.”
I settle into my pillow, staring at him through clouding eyes. If you walked into this room, you’d think I was the type of Sleeping Beauty who slept with her eyes open. Open and without any makeup. Shit, does that make Ian the Prince Charming come to wake me up from my slumber? Anything but, please.
I’d rather be awake for that.
“This is hard for me to say, let alone articulate…” Ian’s hand creeps dangerously close to my feet beneath the bed. “I like you. Very much.”
He’s kidding, right? “Like me. You like me.”
“Very much.”
“Boy, you weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t articulate it well.”
“I’m serious, Katie. Don’t ask me to put better words to my feelings right now. Yet I definitely feel something for you. You’re more than a woman I casually hookup with. You’re even more than a friend. I’m not sure what you are. That’s the problem. I’ve never felt for someone what I feel for you, and that’s new for me. I need some time sorting it out.”
I sit up, the covers falling away from me. My back is hunched, my greasy hair falling into my lap, and my makeup-less face sending rockets into this man’s skull.
“You need time. You. Need. Time.”
“Have I misinterpreted something? I was under no impression that we were on some specific timeline when it comes to our relationship. Besides training you, anyway.”
He’s already bringing that up. Either this man is a terrible liar, or he’s terrible at understanding me. Probably both. “No, we weren’t on any timeline. We were doing whatever felt fun. Yeah, I had a lot of fun with you.” I have to look away before his charisma breaks me. “Maybe too much fun. Like I told you, I’m getting in over my head. You’re an easy man to fall in love with, Ian Mathers, and I don’t want to fight you anymore.”
No surprise that he takes my hand, eyes staying locked on mine. “Then don’t fight me.”
“Don’t you get it? You’re one of the last men I should fall in love with. Where would a real relationship with you go? I don’t want to be your full-time sub.”
“I don’t want a full-time sub. Not from you or anyone else. That’s sex, not a lifestyle.”
“Even so, I can’t do that even half the time. It takes a lot out of me and asks me to look at who I really am. Meanwhile, you keep doing your own thing like whatever.”
“Katie… if this is about you Topping, I… really don’t care if you take out your urges on other men. Just casual, of course. Maybe if I’m there.”
All these stipulations. I could die from dizziness. “That’s not going to work for me. I’m a Domme. I don’t want some man looking over my shoulder and seeing what I do. For fuck’s sake, Ian, we would be miserable after a year. It wouldn’t work. We’d be forced to break up like your parents before we could even talk about marriage.”
My God, I just said the M word.
Ian doesn’t flinch. “I think you’ve misunderstood me,” he says, steadily. “We don’t have to go from what we had to an engagement party. There are places in-between. Like… agreeing to be exclusive while we test the waters out some more.”
“Why would you even want to bother with that? Do you want to waste your time when you could be looking for someone more suitable to your needs?”
“Did you not hear what I said?” Ian leans forward, face coming closer to mine. I resist flinging myself into his embrace now that I can smell his cologne so strongly. His comfortable cologne that makes me think of gentle nights in his bed, his body wrapped around mine and his lips teasing every inch of my skin. “I just told you that you make me feel things that no other woman has in my thirty years. Why wouldn’t I want to follow that and see where it goes?”
“Because,” I take his hand in mine, “I won’t be the last woman making you feel that way.”
His gaze is unwavering. Intensifying, but he’s not going to look away anytime soon. “Why do you think so little of yourself?”
“Excuse me?”
The mood has changed. We’ve gone from Ian groveling for my attention to him looking as if he’d rather spit on my floor. I’ve never seen such disgust on his face. Disgust for me? No, Kathryn, don’t let him see how uncomfortable you are. It was one thing when he walked in here unannounced, it’s another for him throw you off guard in this way.
“You put up this façade that tells the world you’re a hard bitch who doesn’t take shit from anyone, personally or professionally. I get it. You need that façade because so many people have told you that you’re still nothing, even born into your father’s family. When that façade comes away, though? You’re so insecure that I almost pity you. Almost. I know you have the strength to overcome whatever is holding you back.”
“What am I trying to achieve, huh?” I snatch my hand away from his.
“You need to let go. You can’t live the rest of your life trying to live up to some standard day-in and day-out. You’re going to burn in flames before you hit forty. Maybe sooner. I don’t want to see that happen. I want to give you at least one escape in your life where you can let go of all control in a safe environment with someone who fucking loves you.”
Tears threaten to burst from my eyes, but I hold them in…. because this arrogant bastard is not going to see me cry over this. He’s not going to see me remember every time I wished I could run to my father and have him fix all my problems in my stead. He’s not going to witness me come undone because a man tried to make me get his coffee even though I’m a project leader or even in charge of a whole company one day. I refuse to let Ian Mathers, the bane of my existence and quite possibly the love of my life, see me at my weakest like that.
He’s seen me vulnerable.
He doesn’t need to see me weak.
Yet only those last words stay in my head. “You love me?”
“I told you earlier, darling, I’m probably heading that way. Fast.”
My hand searches for his again. When our fingers meet, it’s like being welcomed back to a place you left but have already forgotten. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if all this time has been wasted?” I bite my lip, fighting that solitary tear. “What if you break my heart?”
Somehow I’m lured into the grip of one arm. Ian’s arm. The one that’s so soft and strong that I can’t help but melt in it. My nose nuzzles against the place he rubbed his cologne as he strokes my tangled, greasy hair and whispers into my ear.
“If it doesn’t work out in the long run, then it doesn’t work out. But it wouldn’t have been a waste of time, and I would never break your heart. Not like that. The idea of you being heartbroken breaks my heart.”
My other hand strokes his red shirt and plays with the edge of his tie. “I can’t imagine a man like you being heartbroken. You’re the type to shake one woman off and go find yourself a new one. Or many ones. You were like that back in high school, too. Don’t you think I know I was one of those girls, even though I came on to you?”
“Katie.” Every time he says my name like that, I die. My heart literally stops beating, if only for an instance. It’s like those sound waves dive right into my ear and stop the blood flowing toward my chest. I don’t trust a man who has so much power over me. What kind of power? Fuck, I don’t even know. “It was easy for me to go between those women because I didn’t feel anything more than lust and a passing fondness for them. You’re different. You’re completely different.” His lips tickle my ear, and here I go, falling deep into that well I’ve plummeted into so many times now. “You’re the closest thing to a soul mate I’ve ever found, and I still don’t believe in such a thing.”
“Neither do I.” My arms encircle him. God, I don’t want to let him go ever again. That’s how much he’s destroying me. “I do, however, believe you’re changing something within me. Or maybe you’re not changing it. Maybe it’s always been there, and I was too stupid to acknowledge it.”
“You’re not stupid, my love.” A kiss tugs at my throat. “You’re scared. I’ll help you.”
I think of the collar he bought me. Until now, I thought those days were already behind me. No more wearing a collar for a man like Ian Mathers, the only man I would let do that to me. “I am scared. I’m scared you’re going to leave my bedroom without making love to me, even though I’m a mess.”
“What?”
“Look at me, dumbass. I look like I’ve had the flu for a week.”
Ian laughs, the mirthful kind that fills me with a flash of adoration. “I didn’t even notice. I mean, I noticed, but I wasn’t put off. You look like you’re not wearing any makeup.”
I don’t want to say something like, “That doesn’t bother you?” because I know a decent man wouldn’t be mortified by how I look. Like Ian said, though, I’m still insecure at the end of the day, and as a woman that can translate to insecurity over my looks. I can’t help but smile into his shoulder as he tells me one more time that I’m beautiful.
No chance to tell him that I think he’s handsome. He’s kissing me before I have that opportunity.
Have you ever thought you weren’t going to kiss someone wonderful again? Then had the chance to relieve your heart and start all over, with new understanding and hope? That’s me. If you’ve never had that chance before, let me tell you… there’s no fucking thing like a make-up kiss.
Or make-up sex.
All the urban legends regarding relationships are right. See, I’ve never had make-up sex before. So I don’t understand this flood of passion flowing through me as Ian gently lays me down against my pillow and gently kisses me over and over again.
I don’t care if he doesn’t love me yet. I don’t care if this ends in a sweeping blaze months, years from now. I don’t care. All I care about is how good it feels to make love to him and call him mine.
And now I’m his.
He shows no apprehension holding my body to his, even though he’s decked out in top-tier designers and I’m here in a T-shirt I got from the library I helped. He’s in cologne. I’m in body odor and sweat. He’s teasing my throat with his tongue, and I’m awkwardly reaching between us trying to find his zipper.
“Someone’s grabby,” he mutters against my lips.
I get the damn zipper down and stroke his cock through his boxers. “Can’t help it. I want to feel you.”
“Then feel me, darling. As long as you let me feel you too.”
As if he has to ask.
We undulate together, my hand wrapping around his cock, coaxing it to get hard. In turn, he cups my breasts through my shirt, tongue flicking against cotton and making my nipples peak beneath. My whimpers of desire are enough to convince him to reach into my cotton shorts and rub the folds surrounding my clit.
It’s so gentle. While not the first time we’ve gently made love, it is the first time it wasn’t preempted by the rough, passionate sex we’re more accustomed to. This is genuine. Not fueled by exhaustion and remaining desire. This is…
This is otherworldly.
Every time my name falls from his lips, I feel like I’m ascending a ladder toward a glimpse of Heaven. His hand caresses me between the legs, urging me to get wet for him, while I help him get hard enough to take me. Neither effort takes very long.
It also doesn’t take us long to jump right to that event.
Funny, isn’t it? Just a few minutes ago I was hoping he would leave me alone. Now I can’t get enough of him. I can’t stop kissing his cheek and neck as he sits up and begins to undress. The tie lands on the bed. The jacket falls over the side. His shirt unbuttons until I can touch the skin of his chest.
My T-shirt comes up. Not over my head, but high enough for him to touch and lick my breasts. Teeth graze both nipples as he shakes off his pants and boxers. The man is half naked on top of me, and yet neither of us can bother to finish the chore by removing this shirt. It’s fine. I only want to be able to touch him.
Ian pulls down my shorts and the cotton underwear I have on beneath. “Have I told you that you’re beautiful yet?” he asks, slipping one finger into me. I gasp, delighted, happy to have him back in me so soon.
I missed him. I didn’t realize how much until now.
“Katie…” His fingers thrust into me, making me wetter, readier for the rest of him. Each fingertip curls and grazes my G-spot, but I’m not allowed to taste ecstasy yet. That’s okay. I can wait for him.
He wants the same thing I do. Namely, he wants to make love.
I thought we had made love before. Those slow, sensual times in his bed. Now I’m not so sure. I think this may be it, because this time we’re coming together because of a burning need to express our most hidden emotions for each other.
Slowly, his sleeves come down his arms, and I feel his biceps, his shoulder blades appearing beneath my touch. The red shirt joins Ian’s jacket on the floor. He parts my legs around his waist and kisses me so deeply that I gradually forget the rest of the world exists.
Isn’t that what lovemaking is about? Becoming so involved in one another that nothing else matters anymore? Believe it or not, I stop caring about everything but the beating of his heart and the breath I feel on my throat and in my mouth. I don’t even care about him entering me, my folds parting more and more to take him into me. Gradually. Gently.
Magnificently.
Ian stays still within me, kissing my lips again and again, my nails tracing the outline of his muscles along his shoulder and arms. “How does it feel?” he asks, shifting slightly. “I can tell you how it feels on this end. Amazing.”
Not very descriptive, Ian, but as I said, I don’t care about that. “It feels amazing on this end too.” I tell him how his cock is so embedded within me that it feels like we’re truly one body. Conjoined, unable to part. You hear those stories about a man who fits so perfectly within you that it’s like you’re fated to be together. We both said we don’t believe in soul mates. Maybe not, but I believe in moments like these.
“I think I love you, Katie.”
Those are the last words Ian says before wrapping his arms beneath me, lifting my hips up and taking me with a lurch of his body.
I think I love you.
I love you.
Rhythmic movements blissfully roll through me, but all I can think is that the man doing this – the man pushing my body to its limits and reaching for my heart – loves me.
Ian Mathers. The man I thought I disliked so much for so long. Over what? His arrogance? A grudge from years ago? A grudge so stupid and immature now? Shit, nothing like that is ever going to happen again with us. I feel like a fool for not going to him sooner.
Perhaps it was best we waited this long. Perhaps it’s a good thing I had my independent experiences, shaping me into the woman I am now in this moment. I’m still growing. I’m still changing. I’m still fighting the urge to meet my boundaries head-on and see how far I can push them toward the cliff of ultimate enlightenment.
Damn, this is pretty close.
“I love you too, Ian.” My voice is lost to the creak of my bed and the gasps in my throat. I’m opening up more, taking him deep within me and begging him to love me, love me some more. I want to feel every bit of his need for me. I want to capture his essence and hold onto it for the rest of my life. Even if we break up later… even if this really can’t be because of who we fundamentally are… that’s fine. That’s more than fine. I’ll always have this moment to comfort me on the nights I miss him the most.
My affirmation inspires Ian to thrust harder, faster, his cock tearing me apart in the most intoxicating way. If I thought it physically possible, I would want him to keep doing this, forever. I want this, forever.
I want him forever.
His last kiss of the moment sends me over the edge. Between that, my legs spread in the air to take him into me, and his grunt of unfathomed love surrounding me, I break.
“Ian!” I claw his skin, my nails leaving their marks, in case some other woman has the immense privilege of seeing him without his shirt on someday. I want that woman to know that once upon a time, Ian Mathers made love to me. “I want you.”
He know what that means.
Ian’s grunts turn into groans of yearning. My inner walls clench down on him, urging him to come as I sit on the precipice of orgasm.
Just as I think there’s no hope of us coming together, he gasps into me, releasing his first shot of seed as immense pleasure hits my body and brain.
He buries himself so deep within me that I barely feel the rest of his orgasm. In there, anyway. I feel it everywhere else as I writhe against him, my brain flooding with every great endorphin it could possibly hold on to.
Every endorphin that says I want nothing else but this for the rest of my life.
We slow our movements until finally… finally I relax into my pillow, this man on top of me, in me, kissing me.
I don’t want to let him go.
Except we can’t stay like this forever. Eventually, Ian has to pull out of me and roll over enough to keep me in his arms. My head rests against his chest. My thigh lays on his leg, my still spread limbs letting his seed make its way down my skin.
It’s a wonderful combination of feeling marked and in love.
Ian isn’t my Dom right now. He’s… I don’t know what he is. My boyfriend. My lover.
“Have I told you that I’m sorry yet?” He kisses my forehead with the tenderness I crave.
I sigh against his skin. “I’d rather hear that other thing again.”
“What? That I think I love you?”
“Yeah. That one.”
He pushes against me, lips dancing on every part of who I am – physically, emotionally. “I want to fall in love with you, Katie, and I want you to fall in love with me.”
“But it’s so much more fun to fight you.”
“Only in games.”
I wrap my arms around him again, my T-shirt the only clothing still on either of our bodies. Maybe I should fix that.
“What happens now?”
His kiss is unexpected in this moment, but I don’t push him away. How can I, when this is the most natural feeling in the world?
“Let’s play it by ear.”
“What about our families?”
“Fuck our families. It’s none of their business.”
I chastise him for saying that, but I can’t help but agree. It’s absolutely none of their business. Not until we decide to take a more serious step beyond exclusivity. I don’t know when that will happen, if ever. Right now I only care about feeling his warmth around me, within me, and consuming every part of my consciousness.
“I love you,” I whisper, testing how he feels now that we’re no longer having sex.
To my surprise, he knocks me over onto the other side of my bed and looms over me. Am I scared? Enamored? I don’t know what this feeling is, only that I’m becoming addicted to it.
“Don’t say those words if you don’t mean them.”
“You said them first.”
“I didn’t say them without meaning them.”
“Neither am I.” I wrap my legs around his waist and feel his strong body pressed upon mine. Soon we’re back in that familiar embrace. “I love you. I just don’t know what to do.”
“For today, for this week, we’re not going to concern ourselves with it. We won’t address the future until we absolutely have to.”
As nice as that sentiment sounds, I can’t help but wonder if that future will come sooner rather than later. I also wonder if I will really care. Will I keep pushing back my identity in favor of a new one? Will I be happy?
Where will we be a year from now? Ten years from now?
Let me tell you. It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m taking things one day at a time.
