CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DREW
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I’m a fucking asshole. This is not news to me. My friends have told me I’m honest to a fault, and I’ve never seen a problem with that. Then again, I have four best friends, a father, Damon, and Derek.
My life is absent of a lot of women, sexual interactions aside, and the need to navigate the difference between the sexes is not usually necessary.
Nor to be frank, do I usually care.
Tonight I do.
Not just tonight...Gemma.
Seeing her fighting to hold it together was like a dose of fucking kryptonite. Her falling face sent a laser to the steel around my heart, almost paralyzing me.
It did.
Enough that I sat there while she raced out of the restaurant. Finally, I came to my senses and tossed my napkin on the table and went after her.
The problem is, I can’t give her the answers she wants. Either way, she will be hurt, and I am not willing to hurt her.
I can’t fucking stand seeing her in pain.
Striding down the awful patterned carpeted hallway of the hotel, I call out her name.
“Gemma.”
She stops, card in hand, lowers her face, and I almost hear her sigh.
When I reach her, I wrap my body around hers, take the card and turn her to face me. Vulnerable wet eyes meet mine, and I feel it deep inside my heart. In a place that shouldn’t be reachable by...anyone.
“Drew—”
“I’m sorry,” I rasp.
“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” she whispers.
“Invite me in. Let’s order something to eat. A bottle of wine. I don’t want you on your own.” My voice is thick.
She lets out a sharp, emotion filled laugh. “I’ve been on my own for a year.”
I lift her chin. “Well, you aren’t alone now.”
What am I doing?
I have no idea, but it would take a natural disaster to separate me from her. I’m not leaving her. I want to protect her.
I want to fix all her problems and wrap her in my arms foreve—
Stop.
Just for tonight.
I have to rein in these overwhelming emotions.
I press the card against the reader and when it beeps and clicks open, Gemma walks under my arm inside the hotel room.
I follow.
The door closes behind us, and I slide my hands into my pockets, giving her space.
“I’ll be okay. I’m sorry—"
“Whiskey or a bottle of red?” I walk to the phone and lift a brow. “Red it is. I’ll order food, too.”
She’s in no state to make decisions; I can see that as she sits on the sofa.
“What about our meals at the restaurant?” She asks as I end the call and join her on the sofa.
“I think I can foot the bill.” I smirk. “After someone walked out.”
“God, I’m sorry.” Gemma shakes her head.
I lay my arm along the sofa and brush a hand over her hair. “I’m teasing you.”
“I’m a mess, Drew.” She sighs. “I am out of my league here. I feel like a fraud. The only thing I’m good at is being Zoe’s mom. I was never cut out to be a businesswoman. I think I only chose marketing because it seemed interesting.”
Wow.
That was a big download.
That she trusts me to share her thoughts and fears is something I’m not taking lightly.
“Moms are important.” I lay my hand on her shoulder. “I lost mine after I graduated and would do anything to have her back.”
Her sad eyes lift to mine. “I’m so sorry.”
“Tell me about Zoe.”
Suddenly a light appears in her pretty eyes, and the corners of her lips curl up. “She’s three and goes from zero to a hundred the moment she wakes up. Lately she’s started telling little lies, which is entertaining and hard not to laugh at, but I have to call her on it.”
When I frown, she explains.
“They’re harmless lies, but this is parenting. It’s stupid. She said there were robots at the zoo. There weren’t, but she thought it was funny to lie and trick us.”
I nod, listening.
“Does she look like you?”
“Now she does.” Gemma grins, pride glowing from her...no, it’s not just pride, it’s also love.
And it takes my breath away.
She turns, and it’s like a part of her has come back to life, like her heart is wide open. It takes my breath away. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, more feminine, and more worth protecting in my fucking life.
This is dangerous.
“Do you want kids?” she asks, kicking off her heels.
“I’m a workaholic. I’d be a terrible father.”
But you are making me think things I shouldn’t.
“You’d have a wife.” Gemma gives me a lopsided grin.
I fake a shiver.
“Stop,” she nudges me, and I grab her hand, tugging her closer. Our faces are inches apart, our breaths speeding up. Seconds pass as my gaze roams over her beautiful face.
“I wanted to kiss you about thirty times today.”
“Only thirty?” she whispers.
“Did I say thirty? I meant thirty thousand.” I cup her face and tug her onto my lap. She palms my biceps, knowingly or otherwise, and nestles into the warmth of my chest. “I’m trying really hard to keep this professional, Gemma, but the truth is I want to fuck you again.”
“I wish you wouldn’t use that word.”
Hmmm.
“You liked it when I had my mouth on your pussy,” I growl, and her body shudders as she presses down onto my erection.
Christ.
My hand slides up over her thighs.
“That’s different,” she barely murmurs, and then groans as my hand reaches her panties.
I rub her clit.
“Drew...”
“Enough thinking. Let me make you feel good.” I tug down the lace, and untangling them from her feet, I toss them away.
“You’ve done that a few times.”
Her tone tells me she hates knowing that.
“I’m not a priest, Gemma.” I pull her skirt up, then lift her over my thighs and undo my pants.
“God, you have the nicest arms.” She undoes my shirt, hands gliding over my biceps. “Strong, hard, ugh, I can see why women desire you.”
Now I don’t like it.
I don’t want anyone else in this room with us, metaphorically or otherwise. Just me and Gemma.
“Stop. You’re the only woman I want to think about.” Her eyes flicker to me, and I give her a warning look. I don’t want to mislead her. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
“I’m used to being married, Drew. This is hard for me.”
Goddamn it.
I don’t do this kind of sex. Words, emotions, sharing. I fuck. I make sure a woman comes. We say goodbye. My world wobbles on its axis as things become so fucking confused in the moment, I can barely keep a handle on it all.
My dick is exposed between us, hard and weeping.
Gemma licks her lips.
Jesus fucking Christ, I swear if she were any other woman this would be in the too damn hard basket. I’m thinking and feeling things I don’t understand. That has no place in my head.
Lifting her chin, I look deeply into her eyes. “Gemma, I’m going to fuck you. You’re going to lift your hips, slide your pussy down over my cock and come. We aren’t married. I am never marrying anyone. But you will love it, just like you did on Friday.”
“Drew, I—”
“Or you can climb off, and I’ll leave so you can wait for the man who will love you and make love to you. Like you deserve.”
I’m not going to lie.
I’m not going to deceive her.
This isn’t lovemaking, and I know that’s what she wants. What she needs. She wants me to love her because it’s familiar. Safe. It fits into her life plan.
But she also wants me to fuck her and climax around my long thick cock.
We both know it.
“I’m not asking you to love me.” Gemma’s palms slide over my chest. “I just need a little more of you, so this doesn’t feel so soulless.”
Jesus.
Her words slap me around the face, and I don’t like it. She wants to know what’s in my heart. God, this is dangerous. I should buckle up and leave.
I don’t talk about feelings. My brothers don’t bother asking, they’re not that different. My friends know me, without having to ask, and if they see a problem, they either push my buttons until I snap or physically punch me in the face.
To be fair, the last time that happened was a decade ago. From memory.
Talking feelings with a woman?
No.
Fuck, no.
I study Gemma’s face, her blushed and aroused cheeks, the arousal in her gaze. I’m not leaving. I want her so fucking much in ways that confuse the hell out of me.
“You want to know that I think about you when I’m alone,” I offer.
“Do you?”
“Yes.” Taking her hips, I lift and guide her over my cock and glide it through her folds.
Gemma moans. “What do you think about?”
The head of my cock props itself at her entrance and nudges as I admit, “I wonder what you’re doing. Who you’re with.”
She presses down, and we both moan from the feeling of it slipping inside, tightly.
“What do you imagine?”
I tighten my grip on her hips, using an unimaginable amount of willpower not to thrust up.
“Friends. Your family. Your daughter. Sometimes a man.”
“More,” Gemma moans, and I press her down on my cock, going deeper.
“I see you getting ready for bed, wearing a sexy negligee.” My voice is husky.
“Climbing in bed with you?”
“Yes.” I regret my honesty, as I don’t want her to read anything into it. But I hated that she didn’t climb back into bed with me before leaving on Friday.
I have imagined her lying on my chest when I wake.
“Why?” Gemma asks, taking more of my cock inside her.
Gripping her face, my eyes lock on her mouth. “I can’t stop the vision. Purely because I want you there to fuck in the morning.”
We both know I’m lying.
“Purely. Oh, fuck!” she cries, as I bottom out and then slam my mouth down on hers.
Our conversation dies as I devour her.
Gemma rides my hard member with a vigor and speed that has my cock pulsing. I assist, pushing her down deep, knowing this is going to be fast.
Who knew talking about my feelings could be so fucking erotic.
“Drew, oh god.”
“Strangle my cock,” I growl. “Tighter, good girl.”
“Oh, oh, oh.” Gemma bounces, grinding and taking everything she needs. “Drew, oh, God. I’m going to come.”
Her words urge my orgasm closer. I rip her dress off, needing to see all of her. We fumble as she rips desperately at my shirt and tosses it away.
Rip.
I grin. “Baby.”
“Sorry,” Gemma blushes, on the edge of her orgasm.
I tug her ass down hard on my cock, and all humor fades. It’s replaced by a heightened arousal driving us to the edge as I cup her breast, pinching her nipple.
This woman.
She is unlike anyone I’ve been with.
I care.
I want her to feel the most pleasure she’s ever experienced. I want to take in every moan, every arch, every sparkle in her eyes.
“God,” she cries, and I can’t look away as her lashes flutter and her orgasm crashes around her.
Gemma clenches around my cock, and I grip her waist, letting myself go.
Pure white pleasure plows through me. My hips thrust up into her like a piston, and I take what I need, calling out her name.
“Drew!” Gemma screams, digging her nails into my shoulders.
My seed spills into her.
I remind myself to deal with that later, as I enjoy the best sensation I’ve ever felt in my life.
Utter sweet pleasure.
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GEMMA
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I FEEL DREW carry me into bed, clean between my legs and then climb in behind me. I should tell him to leave, but there’s no part of me that wants him to.
He’s been clear there is no love between us, and yet there is something. I am probably imagining it.
I wouldn’t be the first woman.
I read it's something about sex hormones, so I forgive myself for wanting this intimate moment with him.
I have no desire to be impregnated by a man who is not committed to me, so I make a mental note to deal with that in the morning.
God, my feelings for Drew are very confusing.
Perhaps I’m just one of those women who falls in love easily. I can’t fall in love with Drew. He’s the one man in the world I cannot be with.
Tomorrow we need to agree that this sexual relationship ends and agree to focus on business.
This week I have a meeting with my bank manager to discuss how I service my mortgage moving forward. After all, it’s not small.
Unfortunately, I’ve had no response from the resumes I’ve sent out.
Am I worried?
Terrified.
I suppose it’s why I’m seeking some confidence from Drew on his plans about Open Leaf. To know the dividends from my ten percent will contribute.
While he’s just enjoying fucking me.
I have to end this.