Chapter 6 Birdie
Chapter six
Birdie
“Mortimer can stay. Obviously. I’ll have the housekeeper order a special tray of doggie delights for him, and the two of you are of course welcome to any room in the house. Make yourselves at home. Birdie, now please listen to me.”
But I didn’t even acknowledge him as I headed upstairs to the spare room where I’d moved all my things, hoping he was choking on the sight of my plump ass wiggling in his face.
“Birdie, please move back into my room.”
I continued to ignore him, heading to my closet to select the skimpiest outfit I owned, a little strapless white eyelet dress.
“Birdie,” he growled low, following me right into the closet. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I don’t want to break up.”
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the suppressed passion I could feel pulsing off him.
“So leaving me at the altar and going off with your psychotic ex was just a mistake?”
“I did not leave you at the altar. I just wanted to talk to Phee.”
“At our wedding? Fuck you. You knew exactly what you were doing. You humiliated me in front of hundreds of people and left. And then you expected me to be here waiting, ready to jump into your arms when you got back.”
He said nothing, then.
“I want to make this up to you, Birdie.”
I peeled off my wet bikini top and dropped it over his priceless Moroccan chair.
The heat of his gaze burned at me, scorching a line down my body as I wriggled out of the bikini bottoms, then dropped them on the floor and turned around with unconcern.
He sucked in a breath of air when he saw my swollen pussy.
“I’m gonna cut to the goddamn point. What do you want to forgive me?”
I reached for the dress.
“You’re used to getting everything you want, everyone doing what you want when you snap your fingers. Well, fuck you. You humiliated me. What was between us is over.”
His hand was above my head on the fine wood of the closet, leaning over me so close I could smell his cologne, a mix of cedar and leather.
“No, it isn’t. You’re a damn liar.”
I flung my hair so it flicked in his face and stepped into the dress, jumping up and down so it would go over my generous backside.
Forrest put two hands on my waist and spun me around. His blue eyes were gleaming.
“This dress is too goddamn short to wear anywhere without me. Everyone is going to lust for you.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m in the market for some casual lusting. What you saw on the lawn plus a lot more.”
His eyebrows drew together angrily.
“You know you can’t get anything like what we have anywhere else!”
“You mean I can’t find another selfish bastard? Actually that’s very easy.”
“I mean, you can’t find our connection anywhere else,” he growled, a muscle throbbing in his cheek.
“I suppose you mean sex,” I sighed. “Guess what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make up for what happened. You saw me as a backup option for Phee.”
“I did not.”
His eyes were luminescent, and I felt his power curl under my skin, that overpowering charisma he had. But this time, fuck him.
“OK, but you didn’t think you were done with her. You were going to marry me, but in the back of your head, you wanted to know what Phee had to say. You wanted to hear her out.”
He hesitated just a shade too long.
“No.”
“Don’t bother lying to me.”
“I did not at any point think of choosing her. I did want the ego boost of her getting jealous. I’m sorry.”
“And of course you thought I’d be here waiting for you.”
“Yes. I did.”
I only felt a strange, simmering sensation, only of the sick satisfaction of being right.
“I fucked up, badly. But I want you.”
I laughed scornfully.
“Well, that’s too damn bad. You might as well go tell Phee you take it back. Because you and I are through.”
I slid my feet into some high-ass heels that I knew would make my butt look great and examined myself in the mirror.
“Baby girl, I love you so much.”
“Don’t baby girl me, old man. That shit is over.”
I moved to the vanity, the big mirror set in beautifully polished wood, Forrest right behind me, his fingers trailing along my cheek.
“Sweetheart, no one can pleasure you like I do.”
Forrest tightened his powerful fingers on my chin as he licked up my throat, his tongue flicking lasciviously at the hollow behind my ear.
“Let me take you into the bedroom and show you how sorry I am,” he growled in my ear.
“These sorry-ass old moves aren’t going to cut it now,” I advised him. “Now stop slobbering over me so I don’t mess up my eyeliner.”
After a moment he dropped his fingers from my chin and I wiped my neck with a Kleenex before applying my eyeliner.
“Birdie, you know I never beg. But please, just give me five damn minutes to explain myself.”
“Why don’t you go give your speeches to your ex-wife? She seems easy to please.”
I admired the perfect swoop of my eyeliner in the mirror as he stared at me.
Forrest was looking slightly unsure, like he didn’t know what to do next.
“I do not want Phee,” he gritted out. “I didn't touch her one damn time on that boat. It was just a momentary lapse in judgment. I want to work things out with you. I love you.”
“Have you ever even been rejected in your life?” I asked dryly.
“No.”
“Well, isn’t it great to have new experiences even at 65?”
His mouth was a forbidding slash across his face and he crossed tanned, muscular arms across his chest.
“All right. I get that you’re mad at me now. Just tell me what I can do to get you to forgive me. What can I buy you?”
I shrugged as I carefully applied lipstick.
“Can’t think of a thing I want from you.”
“Please,” he murmured, putting one hand on the back of my chair and bending over so that I could smell that obscenely rich slightly sweet tobacco and leather scent. “Look, pretty girl. I bought you some pretty jewelry. Very expensive and very very pretty.”
I heard the quiet click of one little velvety black box. Then another, as placed them around me on the vanity table.
Glancing over, I shrugged at them.
“Kind of tacky if you ask me.”
The hand on my back of my chair curled in, one big finger after another.
“Want a bigger diamond ring?” he gritted out.
“That one’s already a $2.5 million dollar stone.”
“I don’t fucking care. Do you want a bigger ring? Birdie, I’m fucking desperate for whatever will change your mind.”
“That sounds like a personal problem. I’m going out to get pizza so you can deal with that yourself.”
“Don’t move out, please, Birdie.”
“Move out?” I said. “Oh, yes, Mr. Davies-Jones, I’ll only stay here long enough to find a new sugar daddy. Ought to be easy enough if I’m such a gold-digger.”
“I have never said or thought that you were a gold-digger.”
“No, but you sure didn’t stop anyone who said it to you, did you? Because you don’t care. You liked that you could get anyone with your money.”
He raked his hands through his hair.
“What is it going to take to get you to believe me?”
“Nothing. So get used to seeing me going out on dates and fucking random hot men outside on the porch.”