CHAPTER 8 #3
He stopped at a traffic light and pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling to favorites in his photo file. It took a second to find the one he wanted: Jannie, at the cocktail party, stunning in her blue dress. He’d snapped the pic without her knowledge.
It had been over two months.
And he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.
His gaze roamed over her perfect face and statuesque body.
She was one of the few women he had met tall enough to look him in the eye with ease.
And those eyes … intelligent sapphire eyes capable of piercing your soul.
He’d felt naked, incapable of hiding anything under her gaze, as if she could see his deepest secrets and darkest desires.
Speaking of desires … she’d kissed the living daylights out of him.
Not a day went by that he didn’t recall the heat of that kiss.
She’d captured his imagination back in high school, and seeing her again confirmed that his feelings for her hadn’t changed.
Whatever had attracted him had only grown stronger.
She was the one that got away.
Twice.
A long honk yanked him out of his thoughts. Nick tossed the phone, gunned the engine, and the Tahoe charged satisfyingly ahead.
It wasn’t long before he pulled into the garage at The Platinum.
He grimaced. Another evening returning alone to an empty condo.
His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. That happened all too often these days, and he knew it wasn’t good.
Reverting to being skinny was the last thing he wanted; he’d worked too hard for this physique.
A vision of Jannie’s face when she saw him in the lobby of the Lark flashed through his mind.
She liked what she saw, and he …
Shit.
He had to get her out of his head. This was ridiculous. He needed to move on and stop wishing for the unattainable.
·
Nick shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, quickly towel-drying and pulling on comfortable clothes.
It was good to be home after a weeklong trip to Toronto, where he had frozen his ass off.
God, how he hated snow. But the visit to the local maple farm was enjoyable, and the family-run restaurant next door, serving the syrup they produced over the best pancakes he’d ever tasted, made it worth the trip.
The doorbell rang.
“Be right there!” Nick tossed the damp towel into the hamper and strode to the door, adjusting his sweatpants as he went. Swiping his wallet from the side table, he yanked open the door, ready to tip the delivery person.
Oh.
Olivia stood there, the bag from Lemongrass in her hand, an unreadable expression on her face. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
Well, this was a surprise. He hadn’t heard from her after last week’s demo fiasco.
She ran her gaze over him, pausing at the crotch of his gray sweats. “I hijacked the DoorDash girl. May I come in?”
Nick hesitated for a second before stepping aside. His stomach clenched, and it had little to do with the smell of ribeye steak with tamarind sauce from his favorite Thai place.
Spiked heels clicking on the tile floor, Olivia breezed past him, leaving behind a whiff of sweat and sex.
His mouth twisted. Unbelievable. Why hadn’t she showered in the locker room?
Olivia took the few steps to the kitchen and set the bag on the countertop. She opened it to peek inside and pouted. “No mango sticky rice?”
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
Nick watched her extract the single food container and rip open the paper chopsticks sheath.
He could count on his right hand the times she’d come here, and when she had, she hadn’t spent the night, claiming she only slept well in her own bed.
He knew better: she didn’t like his small apartment.
She’d hated it the moment she followed the Realtor inside, criticizing everything from the small kitchen to the builder-grade features.
Why was she here?
“Does Quinton know you’re here?” he asked.
“No.”
Hmm. Interesting.
He eyed the cabinet where he kept the dishes. “I’ll get some plates.”
“I already ate at the club.”
I’ll bet you did.
He pictured her dark red lips around Quinton’s fat dick. The horny bastard was probably making her gag, too. Repeatedly. It was his thing, something Nick had never enjoyed doing to a woman. Nick wondered if she liked it. He also wondered why he didn’t give a single shit.
He opened the container, not bothering with a plate. Sliding open a drawer, he found a second set of chopsticks and placed them on the black granite countertop in front of Olivia, just in case.
He pinched a piece of beef and slid it into his mouth.
Arms crossed, she watched him for a beat, shifting on her sky-high heels. “We need to talk.”
He paused, narrowed his eyes, then resumed chewing.
“We need to talk,” she repeated.
He swallowed the beef and scooped some rice with his chopsticks. “So, talk.”
“What the hell was that back at the club?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t in the mood.”
She tipped her head. “You haven’t been in the mood for a while now. I didn’t appreciate being safe-worded onstage like that.”
“But you appreciated Quinton taking over the aftercare.”
She froze.
Well, then. Suspicions confirmed.
Nick smirked. “You think I didn’t know?”
Olivia said nothing. She picked up the chopsticks and rolled them between her palms. When she spoke, she avoided eye contact, staring at the countertop.
“It wasn’t in person,” she muttered. “It was over FaceTime.”
He choked out a laugh. “Oh, OK, then that makes it acceptable. What happened to the exclusivity you agreed to?”
She grasped the sticks tightly. “It was one time. I needed … I needed it. It had been too long, and you were unavailable that night.”
Yeah, I was forty thousand feet up, halfway to Mexico.
“I feel invisible, Nick. Like you don’t see me. And I’ve been feeling that way for a while.”
He picked up another sliver of beef, saying nothing.
Her words didn’t surprise him. On the contrary, he felt genuine relief.
He’d never been able to forge a true bond with Olivia, and every scene with her left him unsatisfied.
At first, he ignored it, thinking things would improve as they grew closer, but they never did, and lately, he’d started to suspect they never would.
“I’d like to … expand my horizons,” she said.
“Meaning?”
“What do you think it means?”
He set down his chopsticks. This was turning into the conversation he’d felt they needed for a while, and it was too serious to continue while he ate.
He nodded slowly. “I think we’ve been heading toward this for some time.”
She visibly perked up, excitement flaring in her eyes. “I’m so glad you agree. I already spoke with Quinton.”
Wait, what?
“You spoke with Quinton,” he repeated flatly.
“Yes.” She licked her dark red lips. “I also spoke to—”
“Whoa, whoa.” He held up a hand, stopping her. “Are you saying you invited other players?”
She blinked once. Twice. “Yes.”
“You didn’t think to ask me first?”
She looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You’ve watched group scenes.”
He clenched his jaw so tight he heard his teeth grind. “Watched, Olivia! I wasn’t participating!” He couldn’t help raising his voice.
Was she for real?
“Yes, I was there, remember?” Her expression clearly told him she didn’t understand. “As I recall, you were hard as a rock.”
He didn’t let his jaw actually drop. This confirmed what he’d sensed from the beginning: she was in it solely for the physical and lacked understanding of a dom-sub relationship.
At least, his interpretation of what it should be.
They were approaching this from opposite directions, and now he realized they could never intersect.
“I also recall taking you to a private room after,” he said.
Wanting to give myself only to you.
Not once had he considered stepping out of bounds, and she should have known that since they’d discussed everything in minute detail when they’d embarked on this exploration. He’d made it clear that sharing was a no. But now …
He caught her gaze. “You say you want to expand your horizons.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think we’re headed in the same direction.”
“We can be.”
“No, we can’t.”
“Please, Nick, just try it a few times. For me.” She smirked. “They can be women.”
Not happening.
“I told you when we started this that I don’t share.”
He watched her expression gradually turn cold. “I thought you would evolve from that.”
Nick’s mouth twisted. To him, having multiple partners simultaneously wasn’t evolution.
She looked down at the counter. For a supremely uncomfortable few moments, he stood there watching her slowly shake her head.
“I want you, Nick,” she finally said, a tremor in her voice.
I hear a but.
When she looked up again, her eyes were intense. And, to his surprise, dry and blatantly hostile. “But you aren’t enough.”
·
Nick
“We’re sorry, Mr. Kent, but we weren’t able to deliver them.”
Nick frowned. “Again?”
“We’re sorry.”
“Has she refused them?”
“No, sir. The driver said no one was home. At least, they didn’t come to the door. We couldn’t leave the flowers outside in this heat.”
Had Jannie gone somewhere? If she had, her brothers didn’t know about it because they’d assured him she was home.
“I understand. Thank you.”
“Of course. Anything else we can do for you today?”
“No. Thank you for all your help.”
Nick tapped end and stared at the phone screen. He’d set Jannie’s photo as wallpaper after looking at it so many times and getting tired of having to hunt for it in favorites. Over the past weeks, he tried to lose himself in work and in different women at the club.
But the more partners he tried, the more dissatisfied he became, until he finally had to accept that he was miserable.
The remedy he’d tried for his malaise—playing with many women and sampling every flavor—had proved anything but effective.
On the contrary, he felt … well, rudderless, drifting from one partner to another, never finding what he pretended not to seek.
He hadn’t fucked a single one. Didn’t want to, with no connection.