Chapter 7 #3
“Um, bacon and eggs please, and an orange juice.” I am embarrassed and put my head down to hide my blush.
“I’ll have the same.” He smirks a sexy smile at me.
Bloody hell. OK, my brain is fried. I can’t even speak as I visualize exactly what he has explained to me.
Orally, vaginally and anally, shit. To me that sounds like the exact thing I might like to do today.
Is he trying to drive me out of my frigging head? He’s not playing fair.
“So, precious.” My eyes snap up at the nickname he used to call me. “Do you know anyone that you could put up for an interview?” I scowl at him. He’s playing with me, the bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Yes, I do, actually,” I reply. Actually, no I don’t. Only me. I would rather cut off my left arm than put someone else up for that position. I scan my empty head for a witty comeback. Nope, nothing, another 2 a.m. regret coming up.
“Are you purposely trying to turn me on?” I whisper.
“Is that what I’m doing?” His gaze bores into me, burning holes with its heat.
“Yes,” I whisper. “You know you are.”
He inhales a deep breath through his nose as he leans back in his chair and rearranges his penis unashamedly in his pants.
My eyes drop down to between his legs and I swallow a golf ball again.
OK, if he gets away from me today without giving me what I need, I am going to need admitting myself tonight.
“Why are you hard?” I can’t help myself. I have to ask.
“I’m always hard when I talk about what I need in a wife.”
“You have this conversation often?” I’m offended.
“No, first time.” He smiles.
I narrow my eyes. “Bastard,” I whisper. “Stop playing with me.”
He smiles as he takes another sip of his latte. Breakfast arrives and we eat in silence. He’s seemingly relaxed, I’m practically panting at the visuals in my pea brain. Tied to a bed. Damn, yes please.
“So, have you had any serious girlfriends?” He shakes his head as he takes another bite. “Why not?”
“I can’t be monogamous so—” he shrugs, “—I guess it’s not fair.”
“Huh, what do you mean you can’t be monogamous?”
“I’ve never been with just one person.”
I frown. “What, never?” He shakes his head again. “How do you? I mean what, so these girls you…mess around with know they are one of many?”
“Pretty much.”
I stop eating and put my knife and fork down as I frown.
He smiles. “What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re a frigging pig.” I answer.
He shrugs. “I like to think I’m honest.”
“Seriously, so girls are happy to have you for half an hour and give you back?”
He puts his knife and fork down. “No, they get me for about four hours and when it’s over I have nothing in common with them and I don’t particularly want to spend time with them, so I leave.”
I shake my head in disgust. “You know the way you just spoke about women makes me think I have absolutely nothing in common with you anymore.”
He looks offended. “Are you kidding?”
“What?”
“You think what I do is any worse than what you do?” “What do I do?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Make men fall in love with you so much that they want to marry you and then you dump them when you get bored. No thanks, I would rather do it my way. Like I said, at least I don’t hurt anyone.” He raises an eyebrow.
“I’m sure these girls get hurt,” I snap. Who in the hell does he think he is, anyway, frigging Dirk Diggler?
“Trust me, the kind of girls I go out with don’t expect more.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Can we just drop the subject because your mouth is seriously pissing me off?”
He smirks. “I thought you liked my mouth.”
“No, actually, not anymore. It’s a turnoff to think how many women you’ve slept with.” He looks down and he butters his toast while he processes my words but doesn’t say anything.
He stays silent as I finish my breakfast. I know the last line I have just thrown him has hurt his feelings but I couldn’t give a rat’s ass.
There is no way in hell I’m going back there if that’s how much respect he has for girls he’s intimate with.
That’s right, he doesn’t even know what intimacy is. Yuk!
“Let’s go,” I say as I finish the last of my coffee. I stand and head to the cashier. He follows and puts his hand on my lower back. I squirm away. He pays and I head to the car.
“Where are you going?” he calls after me.
I turn to look at him. “You can take me home now, thanks.” I turn back toward the car. I lean on the side of his Audi, my rear up against the door.
He leans on the car next to me. “Why are you mad?” he asks as he stares straight ahead.
“You have to ask?” I frown.
“Natasha, I’m not monogamous because I haven’t found a girl I connected with.”
“Why not?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I never will.” He gives me a weak smile. That does sound a little better than what he told me ten minutes ago.
“Why didn’t you just say that instead of being so seedy?”
He bumps his shoulder into mine. “You don’t like seedy?” he smirks.
“I hate seedy.” I bite my bottom lip to stifle my smile.
“Anyway, I thought I was taking you pajama shopping.”
“What’s wrong with my pajamas?” I gasp.
“You have to ask?” he smiles as he throws my line back at me.
I narrow my eyes. “OK, but I’m picking, I want another flannel pair.”
He feigns a disgusted face. “Flannel,” he repeats. “I hate flannel.”
“Well nobody sees my pajamas and I like them.” I smile.
His face drops. “Why does nobody see your pajamas?”
I shrug and peek up at him, hating myself for revealing so much information.
“It seems I have the opposite problem to you, Josh.” I quickly start to walk up the road.
I am not having this conversation with him—how embarrassing.
He doesn’t follow. He stands still, and I know I’ve shocked him. I turn. “Are you coming?” I yell out.
He nods and starts toward me. He reaches me and links his arm with mine as we turn the corner. “How long?” he blurts out.
“What?” I ask.
“How long?” he asks again.
I shake my head. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Josh, forget it.”
“Natasha, I need to know.” He stops still.
“Why?” I frown.
“I just do,” he repeats.
“Years, Josh, it’s been years.”
“Years,” he repeats. “Why has, I mean that’s not possible, I mean.” He stops again still. He looks at me and all traces of amusement have left his face.
I can’t help it, I giggle. “What?”
He looks shocked. “What’s funny?”
“You are,” I answer.
“How am I funny?”
“Why are you so shocked I haven’t been with anyone for a long time?”
“You had a boyfriend for years. Do you expect me to believe you didn’t sleep with him?”
“Believe what you want, you asked me.”
“Why?” he whispers. I shrug. “Tell me,” he demands. I stay silent, my eyes searching his. I want him to work this out for himself. He must know how I feel about him. Surely, he can’t be that stupid.
“Listen, are you taking me shopping or not?” He nods. “Just drop the twenty questions, OK.”
He seems to regain his composure. “OK.” He nods. “Where to?”
“I have to buy a dress for a wedding in three weeks.”
“Whose wedding?”
“A girl I went to uni with. Actually, will you come with me?”
“What, to the wedding?” He frowns. I smile. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he answers.
“Why not?”
“Because you know it’s not like that between us anymore, Tash.”
Did he just really say that? I fake a smile and rearrange my shirt to hide my hurt. “I know but we are friends, aren’t we?”
He nods. “Yes, but that’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant. If you don’t want to come, I can ask Simon.”
His face drops. “You want to ask Syral?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s Simon. I’m sure he would love to pick up the slack,” I whisper. I’m wicked. I’m so playing him right now. Come on, baby. Take the bait. “Well, if you won’t come with me as a friend then I’m sure he would come as a friend. You know what I mean.” I smile sweetly at him.
His voice drops several degrees. “Are you threatening me?”
“What do you mean?” I quickly duck into a boutique to change the subject.
OK, I’ve planted the seed. Let’s watch it grow.
He follows me and stands just to my left as I start to flick through the clothes on the rack.
I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
I inhale deeply, he sure does smell good.
The idiotic shopgirl’s jaw is on the ground as she stares, yes, stares at my shopping companion.
I turn back to see what she is looking at.
Joshua is leaning up against a pole with his hands behind his posterior and his eyes closed.
He’s obviously tired. I smile. Yes, if I saw a god like him in a store I would stare too.
He looks perfect, and a disturbing thought enters my brain.
I am totally punching above my weight here with him.
Utterly gorgeous, crazy rich and so intense in the bedroom that he’d bring any woman with a pulse to her knees.
Basically, he could pick out any woman he wants.
And here I am thinking I can make him jealous with Simon, frigging Simon, the motormouth.
What am I thinking? He opens his eyes on a start and quickly looks around.
I give him a broad smile. He shuffles his feet and returns his own beaming smile and mouths the words, “Sorry, tired.”
I nod. “Me too,” I mouth back. “Come on.” I grab his hand and lead him to the change rooms. The familiar heat rises from where we touch.
He’s on fire. I am armed with ten dresses, surely something will fit.
I sit him on the large velvet chair just outside the change room. He doesn’t seem to know the drill.
“You want me to sit here?” he asks.
I nod and smile. “Yes, haven’t you been shopping for girl’s clothes before?”
He does wide eyes at me. “No, why would I?”
“What about other girlfriends?” I look puzzled.
He smiles a broad smile as he runs his hand through his hair. “So, you’re my other girlfriend now?”
I smirk, embarrassed at my slip-up. “You know what I mean.”