Chapter 19 #2
But I’d woken up to his hard cock pressed against my bare ass, and the next thing I knew, I was holding on to his bed frame while he fucked me from behind. After, when I lay spent in an exhausted heap, my stomach growled from too much calorie expenditure.
He laughed and told me he had just the thing.
So he slipped into a pair of thin, loose cotton lounge pants, and I slipped into one of his white button-downs. We came downstairs, where he put me in his cozy library and wandered off to the kitchen.
I study the contents that line the shelves while sitting in the leather club chair.
There’s a smattering of best sellers and literary novels, but he seems to prefer nonfiction.
The topics are broad and sweeping in scope.
He’s got his fair share of guy stuff like history and the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, but he also has science and philosophy, as well as books on justice reform and the full spectrum of societal issues.
He walks through the double glass doors, carrying an oversized bowl.
I experience a burst of pleasure at the sight of him. “You’re an intellectual.”
“I think that’s generous.” He puts the bowl on the small game table before moving to the matching chair across from me.
I gesture to the bookshelf. “You’ve actually read The Second Sex?”
He chuckles. “I have.”
I look down to find a hot fudge sundae in the center of the table.
To my horror, my eyes well up. I blink rapidly, resisting the urge to turn into a complete emotional wreck.
I glance up to find him watching me, but when I go to speak, nothing comes out. All my words are stalled behind the lump in my throat.
He holds out a spoon. “I seem to remember sometime around three in the morning you describing in elaborate and pornographic detail the illegal acts you’d commit for a sundae, so I also came prepared.”
I stare down at the sweet treat, unable to comprehend he’d remembered. It’s huge, piled high with hot fudge, vanilla ice cream, peanuts, whipped cream, and extra cherries. I clear the tightness from my voice. “Did you use my hot fudge delivery system?”
His lips tilt. “You were adamant about the proper technique.”
This unnerves me. It’s so thoughtful and attentive. It makes me feel impossibly soft toward him. Taking the spoon, I swallow down the emotions clogging my throat. “I…” I trail off and start again. “I can’t believe you did this.”
He leans back in his chair. “I paid attention.”
“I revealed more than I thought.”
His dark eyes are intent on me. “Maybe we didn’t share the details of our lives, but I still learned a lot about you.”
I dip my spoon into the creamy concoction, making sure to gather all the elements. “True. Although I’m irritated I didn’t make you as a cop.”
“Since your typical cop is an asshole, I am going to take that as a compliment.”
“It is.” I glance at the bookshelves. “Is that why you’re so well-read?”
“I’m well-read because I like to read. I like challenging my thinking. I deal with a lot of different types of people. I want to come from a place of understanding, not as an adversary.”
“I see why you and Ryder have so much in common.”
“It’s why I hired him.”
I slide the spoon into my mouth, and when the cool sweetness hits my tongue, I close my eyes and moan, savoring the taste. My lashes flutter open to find him watching me like he’s trying to peer into my very soul.
It makes my belly heat. I tap the bowl. “You’re going to be very sorry you made this for me.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I’m going to want this all the time.”
He shifts, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. “I can live with that.”
My heart leaps in my chest, and I try to distance myself from how emotional I feel. “Even though I’ll gain twenty pounds.”
His eyes darken, growing even more intent. “I don’t give a fuck what you weigh.”
“Oh.” I distract myself by fiddling with my spoon.
He chuckles. “I see this is making you nervous.”
I decide to be honest. “Usually, when guys get too nice about things, I lose interest.”
He sits back again, studying me. “Are you losing interest?”
I shake my head, then feel my cheeks heat.
“Tell me about the last guy you were with.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You don’t want to talk about that.”
“If I didn’t want to talk about it, I wouldn’t have asked.”
I eat another bite of my dessert and contemplate before answering. “Okay, but in exchange, you have to tell me about the last woman you were with.”
“That’s fair.”
I sigh, prepared to tell him about my last relationship and how it ended in my public humiliation. “Even though I didn’t want a relationship, I’d gotten tired of dating around, so I started a casual, friends thing with a litigator named Travis. He was…fine. He served my purposes.”
He gives a small curve of his lips. “And what purposes were those?”
I blow out a breath. “We knew the same people and got invited to the same events. He was uncomplicated, and other than his annoying tendency to mansplain, he didn’t demand anything from me.”
“What happened?”
I drop my utensil. It bounces off the bowl and lands on the table with a clang. “He asked me to marry him.”
Charlie blinks, then laughs. “What do you mean, he asked you to marry him?”
“We’d been together for about six months.
I was bored and ready to be done, but I hadn’t gotten around to breaking things off.
There was this work event at the minor league baseball stadium, and everyone in the whole town was there.
I was going to break up with him that night, but he proposed to me on the jumbotron, and there was a video, and it—um—went semi-viral. ”
“You’re kidding.”
“No! And everyone thought I was a monster for breaking his heart.” I flop back in my chair. “You know, because he’s the nice one.”
Charlie picks up his phone sitting on the windowsill and swipes to unlock it before pushing it over to me. “Show me.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No way.”
“Yes. You know I’ll find it anyway.”
“But if you find it, I won’t have to watch you watch it.”
“Come on, be a good girl and show me.”
“Fine.” I take his phone, open YouTube, and find the video. I hand it back to him and cover my face with my hands. A few seconds later, the first chords of “Cannibal” fill the room.
He laughs.
“Shut up!” I screech. “Stop laughing.”
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but his voice is rife with amusement. A few moments later, he says, “The popcorn is a nice touch.”
“No commentary.” After what feels like an eternity, the song stops and the room goes silent. I peek out from behind my palms. “I know, I know. It’s horrible.”
He puts the phone back in its spot. “Your look of horror is priceless.”
“I went into a fugue state. I don’t even remember deciding how to act—it was a blur.”