13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Aaron
All morning, I feel like shit, and I know it’s not entirely from the alcohol. What happened last night was…
Amazing. What I can remember of it, anyway. Part of me feels bad I don’t remember everything, because someone like Jacob deserves more than a hazy, champagne-infused roll in the sheets.
But the things I do remember… I can’t stop thinking about. Like his hands on my chest, and his big blue eyes gazing up at me. His taunting tone as he told me he prefers to ask forgiveness instead of permission. I swear I’d never heard more beautiful words in my life.
The memory of his body tensing beneath me as he tried to fight how bad he wanted to come pushes forth along with the feel of his euphoria dancing against my tongue as I swallowed his moans. My cock throbs instinctively at the memory of his cum mixing with my own on my cock.
And of course, his perfect, warm mouth bringing me to release in a way I’ve never felt before.
I wanted to give him whatever it was he desired. Because the way I felt with him… was addicting. I wanted more.
I still do, but I know that isn’t going to happen. For starters, Jacob made it clear this morning how he felt about what happened. He thinks it was a mistake, and that hurts.
I asked him to come to my room, and he said yes. Without hesitation. He kissed me, and said yes, and I didn’t think twice about calling us a car. I’ll need to pick up my BMW from the marina today, I remind myself, but already I’m not looking forward to it.
I won’t be able to forget the sight of Prince Charming sitting in my passenger seat, nor do I think I will be able to forget the memory of him, period. Jacob Riley’s poisoned my brain.
Five thousand dollars isn’t enough. But it’s also too much.
I’ve never felt bad about spending my money before, and I’ve spent it on lots of fucking stupid shit over the years. Not for me, but for the men I spoiled.
Cars, villas, art. I never blinked an eye at dropping thousands on what I felt my boys deserved, but signing that check for Jacob felt wrong. Because I wanted to give him more than a check. Clearly, I’m more fucked up than I give myself credit for.
No one actually falls in love with the stripper or the escort.
That’s Hollywood romance shit, not real life.
Not that Jacob is a stripper, but his dance moves last night on the floor, the way he ground his ass against my hard cock, leaned his head back—fuck, I would sign my life away for a lap dance from Jacob.
A private one. Maybe on a boat or on a balcony in Greece or—
No. Not happening, Aaron.
My phone rings, pulling me from my stupor. It’s Chris.
“Hey,” I say, trying to brush off my morning blues.
“Hows it going?” Chris asks with excitement.
“Good.” I collapse on the couch. “Well, aside from the champagne hangover, I mean.”
Among other depressing things. Like catching feelings for a man I hired to pretend to love me.
And pretend he did, too fucking well, because I thought for a moment, maybe…
Maybe he actually could.
God, I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Date go well? Jacob treat you okay?”
I purse my lips. Oh, Jake treated me just peachy.
“Yeah, no complaints,” I say as naturally as I can. I swear I can still smell the hint of vanilla and musk in the air, and it’s depressing because it shoves the fact it wasn’t real and that he’s not here in my face.
“You busy this afternoon?” Chris presses.
I hear the sounds of the city around him.
“Not particularly, why? You want to grab lunch?” I ask.
Chris chortles out a huff. “Yea, well… me and the fam.”
I sit up straighter. “Your mom and dad, too?”
“And Lola. And your parents, of course.”
I tense at his words. I knew this would happen eventually, since the Everett Family Luncheon is always important on the agenda when we’re all in town.
Well, mostly me. It’s another reason I’ve avoided coming home so much, because my mother and father guilt me into going, but I stomach it because I get to see Chris, and it’s nice to see Uncle Travis and Aunt Shannon, and Lola too.
She’s getting so big, it’s ridiculous. I swear she’s going to be tall like her dad, considering she’s only thirteen and already five-seven.
“Yeah, I guess. Where and when?”
Chris’s voice is muffled as he talks to someone.
He must be out on his morning errands. Chris, the lucky bastard.
He’s a tech guy, so he gets to work from home and set his own schedule.
While I technically work on my own time, I don’t get to sit at home in front of a computer.
I own six rental properties in the heart of LA, and we’re constantly booked, especially now that it’s spring.
Wedding season is upon us and in just a few short weeks, I’ll be up to my eyeballs in bachelor and bachelorette weekends.
Kill me now.
“Callahan’s. One-thirty.”
Callahan’s. Of course, what are the fucking odd they want to dine at the scene of my proverbial crime?
It’s just a restaurant, you can handle it. Don’t be so dramatic, Aaron.
I look at my watch, noting that it's in four hours at this point. Which is just enough time for me to shower, get some breakfast, and get out for some fresh air myself. I feel like I could use it after the day—and night—I’ve had.
When lunch rolls around, I’m feeling slightly better, if only for the fact the caffeine seems to have kicked my headache. I barely get two feet in the door before I’m nearly knocked over by a hurricane that smells like cucumber melon.
“Uncle Aaron!!!” Lola squalls, hugging me with her long arms. I wrap mine around her and let out a contended sigh.
There might be damn near thirty years between us, but I’ve tried to make a point to be in Lola’s life when I am around, so she knows who I am.
I don’t have any siblings, like Ethan and Lola.
I’m an only child. So I’ve always kind of felt like Ethan and Lola were my pseudo siblings, not my cousins.
And I’ve always sort of treated them that way, too.
I hold her out and take a look at her.
“Damn girl, you grew like a beanpole,” I say ,and she giggles. Ethan comes up, and I smile as he pulls me into a hug.
“So good to see you,” he says, and I ease a fraction.
“Same.”
He nods for me to follow him, and I do, Lola sticking to my side like glue as we saunter to the back room. The table is full of people. Aunt Shannon and Uncle Travis, my parents, and…
My blood chills at the sight of familiar dark eyes, chocolate brown hair, and a rough smattering of facial hair that could definitely use a shave.
He sits there, bright and warm—which is a facade because there’s not a warm bone in Garrett’s body.
But it’s not just him, I notice, but the man next to him.
A very attractive, older man with salt and pepper hair and kind eyes, with a little bit of a belly.
His silver ring glints in the light as Garrett picks up his glass of water, his gaze catching mine.
His matching silver ring nearly blinds me.
When the fuck did that happen?
I try to recall the other night, when he came to my room.
Was he wearing a ring? I don’t remember.
My stomach flips, because Garrett knows how I feel about cheating.
It’s one of my boundaries, and even though he’s a fucking asshole most of the time, he’s always been good about at least respecting my rules when it comes to hooking up, but…
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s pulled a stunt like that.
A few years ago, he told me about some escort he hired purely for the fact he wanted his fiance to catch him.
He’d tried to get me to do it a few times over the years, but I never felt right about that sort of thing.
I love exploring and trying new dynamics and scenes, but I won’t do something unless all parties are on board and consenting.
But Garrett likes to push the boundaries, and he’s got a thing for CNC. Telling him no isn’t enough.
He wants you to tell him no. Then he wants to shove your face in his defiance. He wants to hurt. That’s what he likes. That’s the difference between Garrett and I, and why we’d never work, even if I wanted us to.
Because I don’t want to hurt people. Not like he does.
“Aaron, so nice to see you,” Garrett says smoothly, as if he didn’t have his fucking mouth on my cock just mere days ago.
I shiver, but focus my gaze on him.
“Garrett.” I move my focus to his parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Tempest.”
Rob smiles at me. “Always a pleasure, Aaron.” His smile is genuine and his mother, Rebecca, grins.
“Have you met our newest member of the family yet?”
I hold Garrett’s steady gaze before glancing to the man beside him.
“No, can’t say I have.”
Garett smoothly sets his water down, his amber eyes burning with smugness.
“My apologies. I should have told you the other night, when we met up for… drinks.” He smiles surreptitiously.
Drinks my ass.
“This is George. My husband.”
Fuck.
It takes everything in me to walk over to the table and extend my hand to George.
“Nice to meet you, George. I’m Aaron.”
Run as far from this asshole as you can, George.
George smiles and the motion makes his dimples move. His hand is clammy and warm and he shakes mine softly.
“Pleasure to meet ya’ Aarron,” he says, his voice thick with southern drawl. I avoid Garrett’s gaze as I take my seat across from Robert, next to Chris.
“No offence, Bob, but uh… what are you guys doing here? I thought this was a family thing.”
Garret chuckles, and I do my best to ignore him.
My father catches my gaze.
“It is. But it is also a matter of business.”
“Of course it is,” I say, unable to hide my disdain. This is just like my dad. I swear he never knows when to quit or where to draw the line.
“Your father thought it would be a good idea to have all the candidates he’s considering for his position in one place so we could discuss things.”
Her words chill my blood. All the candidates he’s considering.