9. Aspen
Chapter 9
Aspen
T he walk back to my office is on shaky legs. I try to avoid Mr. Blake’s icy glare as I walk past him but it’s impossible. His green eyes feel like their piecing through my back as I walk into the building.
I let out a shaky breath, picking up my pace so that I can get back to my desk before he enters the building but I’m not fast enough.
“Come on.” I punch the button for the elevator, the doors not sliding open fast enough. I jump inside when he and the other man he was talking to come across the lobby.
“Hold the door, please!” he shouts and the man in the elevator next to me shoots out his arm just in time. My heart sinks when the doors reopen and Mr. Blake’s smiling face greets mine.
I slink to the back of the car but he follows me, positioning himself so that he’s standing right next to me.
“Nice lunch, Miss Wilder?” He stares forward, the other two men completely lost in their phone screens already.
“Y-yes.”
The car comes to a stop on a floor before mine and I hold my breath, praying that someone else will step on but I’m not that lucky. Instead, both of the men exit, leaving me and Mr. Blake alone.
“So that’s the boyfriend?”
I try to swallow but my throat is so thick with fear I can’t.
This was a mistake. This is going to backfire like I thought it would and make things so much worse for me.
I watch the numbers climb, my heart beating faster and louder with each passing second.
10. 11. 12. 13.
And just when the door is about to open, he jabs his finger out, punching the stop button. The car jerks and I almost lose my balance, a loud ringing sound piercing the air for a second.
“Let me make one thing very clear, Miss Wilder.” He finally turns to look at me, a fire in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you will not win.” He spits the last four words at me with venom before punching the button again and the elevator springs back to life.
When the door opens, I bolt out, slamming my office door behind me before the tears come.
“Hey, I’m so sorry. I don’t have a good excuse other than life got in the way.” The growing guilt of ignoring my friends has reached a pinnacle.
“It’s okay, I get it.” Blaire’s casual, carefree attitude would usually put me at ease but not tonight. “I’m so glad that you called though becaaaause…” She draws out the last syllable in a singsong way. “We’re having everyone over this weekend and there’s no getting out of it!” she adds before I can object.
“Of course I don’t want to get out of it. I can’t wait to see you guys.” My voice cracks.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I just miss you guys and I’m so happy that you and Jules are about to join Harper in motherhood.”
We make small talk about how things have been going, mostly how her pregnancy is going since I’d rather not share about my life lately. Although, I know she would die to hear that Harvey kissed me. A flutter of excitement stirs in my lower belly at the thought.
“Anyway.” She yawns into the phone. “I won’t keep you. Jameson is downstairs making me a frozen pizza with corn and tuna on it, and I am starving.”
“Ew, corn and tuna on pizza? Please tell me that’s a pregnancy craving.”
“It is and I’m aware how nasty it is. Jimmy can barely stomach being in the same room as me when I eat it. Just wait.” She laughs when I make a gagging sound. “I didn’t even tell you what really makes it—a few nice healthy dollops of mayonnaise to dip it in.”
“That should actually be illegal.” I’m lost in laughter with Blaire when I hear the three familiar knocks on my apartment door.
I wasn’t expecting to see Harvey again after earlier. Heat blooms in my face at the memory of earlier… the way he kissed me so possessively. In that moment I wanted to believe it wasn’t possible to fake that kind of electricity. I stare at my front door, the flutter in my belly ramping up.
“On that note, I’m going to go enjoy my pizza and then hopefully some sleep.” She groans loudly on the other end from pushing herself out of bed. “See you this weekend!”
I hang up the phone, quickly turning on the camera feature to double-check I didn’t smear my mascara or have some leftover cilantro stuck in my teeth from lunch before pulling open the door.
“Hi.” The smile on my face is downright comical, I’m sure. The energy of my excitement radiating off me like I’ve been patiently waiting for him to come home to me.
“Hi.” His arm stretches overhead, resting against the doorframe as he looks down on me. He has that smile on his face again, the crooked smirk. “Mind if I come in?”
“Oh, sorry.” I step back and open the door wider for him.
“How’d it go today? After I dropped you off—any issues?”
Tell him. You can trust him.
“It was fine. I just went back to work. Wine?” I hold up a bottle, hoping to distract him.
He contemplates the offer. “Sure, but bring it over to my place.” He nods toward the door with his head. I’ve never been to his apartment. “I’m hungry and I’m guessing you haven’t hit the grocery store since our last attempt to make dinner?”
I smile sheepishly. “You got me there. Should I grab glasses?” It’s a silly question; of course he has wineglasses.
“No, I have some.” He holds his hand out toward me and at first I think he’s asking for my hand but he looks at the bottle so I hand it to him before following him out of my apartment.
I’m holding my breath, not even realizing it until I’ve crossed over the threshold of his place. My eyes are immediately drawn to the soft glow of lamplight by the front door. It’s not at all what I expected and it must be written on my face because he laughs at my expression.
“Not what you expected?”
“Oh, no, no, it’s—yeah,” I agree, joining his laughter. “I think I expected the classic bachelor pad. A chair or two, maybe a couch but no rugs or soft touches.” I run my hand along the natural edge of the beautifully handmade wooden table. There’s no stacks of dusty magazines or piles of unopened mail with a stray empty bottle piled up. It’s clean and organized. My mind flashes back to the women I’ve seen leave this apartment and it clicks.
“You can say it.”
I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe adjacent to me, watching me take in his space.
“A woman’s touch?” My tone is casual and I hope it conveys curiosity rather than judgment.
“All me. I like my space to feel like home.” He tosses his keys into a bowl on the table and places the wine on the island.
“Wow.” There is a beautiful view of the skyline from his living room window. He appears next to me, his hand holding out a glass of wine toward me. We both stand there, sipping our wine as we look out over the city.
“How would you feel about tacos?”
My laugh is more of a snort into my glass. “Is that the only meal you know how to make? Your go-to for the ladies?” I don’t know why I say it; it sounds childish, and I instantly feel silly for bringing up other women again.
“No to both questions. No way I could top the ones from this afternoon anyway.”
“Those were great.”
The warmth from the front of his chest radiates against my back, my body brushing against his accidentally.
“Mmm, all this taco talk is making my mouth water.” The change in the tenor of his voice laces the silly little comment with heavy innuendo.
“What are you in the mood for?”
Instantly, the air between us changes. I tilt my head up and back slightly to gauge his expression. He’s already looking down at me. And his expression says it all.
He reaches around my body, gently taking my glass from my hand and placing them both on the coffee table behind him. My eyes stay on him, watching as he turns back to me. His hand is on my waist, pulling me toward him before he walks us back against the window. His other hand comes out to stop me from crashing against it.
“Your mouth.” He brings his hand to my face, his thumb pressing softly against my lower lip as he drags it down just slightly. He’s completely lost in his own movements. He presses his thumb past the entrance of my lips just enough that I relax my jaw so that my teeth graze his skin.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier.” He drags his thumb down my lip, to my chin, and then to the front of my throat slowly.
“Why?”
“Because all I can think about it is doing it again.” His lips hover over mine so close.
My mind is blank. I want to be the siren, the temptress who knows what to say to drive him wild. To know how to confidently run my fingers over his chest while I whisper the naughty things I wish he’d do to me, but I’ve got nothing.
“Okay,” I say timidly but he doesn’t stop.
“I want to taste you.” His fingers start to curl against my body and he closes his eyes, his jaw clenching. “To drown in you, but I know if I start—I won’t be able to stop.”
My body ignites. Everything in me is praying he doesn’t stop. My hands rest flat against the window behind me as his body trembles from holding himself back. His hand squeezes me tighter, the other still against my neck.
Yes! Yes, take me!
I want to scream but nothing comes out. I’m frozen. His eyes open and meet mine and I’m worried I’ve broken the spell so I lean forward, but he presses against my throat, not allowing me to go any farther.
His hand drops from my waist, down to my hand, and he grabs it to pull it above my head before repeating the process with the other. Both of my hands are now pinned above me in one of his.
“Look at me.” His voice is soft but commanding. “You’re not ready for a man like me.”
What kind of man? Not ready how?
A dozen other questions race through my mind but they don’t make it out of my mouth. Instead, he releases my hands and steps back from me. He reaches for our wineglasses and hands mine back to me. We stand there in silence, sipping our wine as we overlook the city.
“What was it about him?”
I turn to look at him, confused by the question at first, then I quickly turn back toward the window when I realize what he’s asking.
“I don’t think it was about him actually.” Both of my hands hold my glass as I stare down into it, admitting that to myself and aloud for the first time. My exhale is shaky. “I’m not a very confident person, outside of my abilities with work. I’ve always been a bit more quiet and reserved so when someone like that—powerful and good-looking—pursued me the way he did…” I shrug, embarrassed at how naive I must sound.
“Were you in love with him?”
“No!” I turn to look at him. “Not at all. It wasn’t like that. He would flirt with me, make it very obvious he was attracted to me, or at least he pretended to be anyway, and I fell for it. I knew it was wrong. He was my boss, but he told me it was okay, and since I was moving into a new position soon that wasn’t reporting directly to him, it wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Why do you think he was pretending?”
I’m about to tell him because I think it was all a ruse, one big setup to get me into a position where he could use me in his divorce, but I catch myself. He exhales slowly, placing his glass down before crossing his arms over his broad chest to look at me.
“What aren’t you telling me, Aspen?” His gaze is serious, his stance powerful as he studies my face, waiting for me to answer. “You can trust me.”
Connor said those same words to me as he stroked my cheek. But this—this feels different. This feels sincere but there’s still a part of me that is screaming in the back of my brain, reminding me how I thought the same thing about him.
“I— He’s blackmailing me,” I blurt out and it feels unreal.
“Blackmailing you?” His eyes grow wide and his arms fall to his sides. “With what? To do what?”
My breath hitches and I turn to sit in a chair beside me. I try to calm myself but the shame is back. “He-he recorded us.” It’s so quiet he doesn’t hear me.
“He what?”
“He recorded us,” I say louder this time. “He recorded us having s—being intimate.” I struggle to get the words out. “He told me that he’d put it on the internet if I don’t help him hide financial assets in his divorce. He said everyone will think I’m a home-wrecker, sleeping with a married man. It would ruin my reputation and career so I agreed to do it—to help him.”
I couldn’t stop the words now if I wanted to.
They pour out like water tumbling over falls.
Harvey doesn’t speak. He turns his back to me, walking away from the window. His head is down, one hand pressed against the glass as he leans forward. It’s only when I look down at his other hand that I see it’s clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles are growing white.
“Fucking piece of shit,” he mutters, looking up at the ceiling before turning back toward me. “I knew he was an arrogant dick but I didn’t know he was a monster.”
His anger is palpable but his exterior remains calm, a skill I’m sure he developed as a soldier.
“I’m sorry.” The apology is a whispered, trembling mess. “I should have told you.”
“Hey.” He does that thing again, reaching out to cup my face. “Look at me. You don’t owe anyone an apology for this. He does. He’s the one who broke your trust. But I am promising you right now that I will deal with him—thoroughly.”
I shake my head, stepping back. “You can’t. This is why I was scared to say anything. Please, I can’t lose my job.” Panicked tears threaten to fall. “I have so much medical debt from my mom.”
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay. I have a job to do with this man and as much as I want to drive over to his house and drag him out by his dick before beating him within an inch of his life, I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I won’t when this is over. In the meantime, I’m going to make damn sure you won’t be on the hook for any financial fraud.”
“I’m such an idiot.” I hate that I’m pouting but finally, I can confide in someone about the shame and fear that’s been consuming me. “He used me. I should have known.” The tears fall now without hesitation. “I thought he meant it—the compliments about my potential and how smart I was…” I wipe away the tears, angry that I’m even shedding any.
“He doesn’t deserve your tears,” he says, dropping his hands from my face.
“They’re not for him.” I shake my head. “I’m just angry. Angry I believed him, angry I was stupid enough to fall for it. It was all just to promote me so that I would be at his disposal.” I laugh in embarrassment. “It’s pretty obvious a man like that wouldn’t…”
“Wouldn’t what?”
“You know what I mean. It’s just that Natalie is the type of woman he looks like he belongs with.”
“And you don’t?” Two lines settle between his eyes. “You think that men don’t look at you the way they look at Natalie?”
“No.”
“I just told you that I do.”
I feel my face flush. “Based on my experience, no, they don’t. And based on the two men I have dated.” I clear my throat and start to fidget nervously with my now empty wineglass. Harvey’s gaze is burning through me. “They were attractive. I mean, I was attracted to them. I just?—”
“Aspen.” His voice drops low again but I don’t look up.
“I don’t know why you are attracted to me,” I continue on nervously, “based on the other women I’ve seen you with. Not that I’m judging or it’s any of my business for that matter, but they’re all tall and”—I hold my hands out in front of my chest, gesturing—“you know.”
Oh God. Shut up! Shut up! I can’t stop the now unhinged confession that’s tumbling out of my mouth.
“It’s just that, I’m more of the girl next door type, you know?” I see his feet move toward me, my eyes still cast down. “I mean, maybe more like the weird nerd next door but I really enjoy expressing myself through my clothes”—his hand takes my glass from my fingers—“and shoes.” My voice begins to trail off when his hands are on me again, his fingertips nearly touching when he wraps both hands around my waist. “And um, fun colors…”
“I like your clothes,” he says softly, tilting his head down to touch his lips softly against my neck. “And your shoes.” He does it again, this time against my jaw. “And these lips.”
His hands slide up my body, tangling into my hair as he tilts my head and slides his tongue into my mouth. All tension slips from my body. I wrap my own arms around his neck as he nips and sucks at my tongue. I’ve never experienced passion in the form of a kiss, slow and needy like he’s completely consumed by me, the way I am by him.
When he finally pulls back to look at me, it’s with a hunger in his eyes I’ve never seen before. There’s no mistaking what this man wants. This is desire. This is unbridled lust that he can’t control anymore or maybe he doesn’t want to control.
This is nothing like how Connor looked at me. I thought that when he saw me it was passion, but it was nothing but opportunity. A means to an end that he could manipulate.
“Aspen,” he says again, only this time it’s rough and deep, like a plea. “You need to get the fuck out of my apartment.”
I stand confused, my shirt askew, pulled off one shoulder slightly, my hair a tangled mess from where his hands were. I’m unsure what to do so I walk slowly to his door, about to grab the handle when I stop and turn back to face him.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“I don’t.” I place my hands behind me, leaning against the door.
His expression grows darker. “Are you telling me no, Aspen?” I nod my head slowly and he takes the few steps until he’s standing right in front of me. “Say it out loud.”
I tilt my chin upward, looking him in the eyes. “No.”
“You do know what’s going to happen to you then, don’t you?”
“Yes.” My voice shakes through my false bravado, his low throaty chuckle telling me he sees right through me. He places his hands against the door, one on either side of me.
“Tell me.”
My stomach drops.
I’m completely out of my depth here in this provocative game of cat and mouse. All of my insecurity about not being sexually confident like my friends, not knowing how to seduce a man come flooding back. I swallow it down, reminding myself that I am a grown-ass woman with needs and desires and I have a god of a man in front of me, ready to fight himself to keep his hands from me.
“Fuck me.” I say the words as confidently as I can for a person who only uses the F-word in extreme cases of frustration or anger and that’s usually only to myself or under my breath.
“Just hearing you say that word…” He leans in toward me with a low groan. “…sounds filthy in your delicate voice.”
His arousal presses against me, long and firm. He gives me a teasing kiss, one that has me leaning forward for more, but he presses his forearm across my chest, pinning me to the door. “Is that what you want me to do to you, fuck you?”
“I-I,” I stutter nervously, unsure what to say, suddenly worried that our vast difference in experience might get me into something I can’t handle, not to mention the size of his… “What do you want to do to me?” I ask, feeling like an idiot, like he’s going to laugh and tell me to go home, realizing that I’m not like the other women he’s been with.
But the expression on his face tells me the exact opposite. He picks me up, tossing me over his shoulder like I’m as light as a feather, and turns toward the hallway. When we reach his bedroom, he pulls me from his body, placing me back on my feet before reaching down to pull his shirt off, tossing it to the side.
His muscles flex and jump with his movements. The black ink that normally disappears beneath his sleeves now winding all the way to join the others on his neck. I physically hold myself back from reaching out to touch his warm skin. My body aches with a deep need I’ve never experienced, and I finally understand the way my friends described their now husbands back when they first met them.
“I want to strip you naked,” he says with eyes burning into mine as he reaches for the hem of my blouse. “And then want to lay you back on my bed and lick and eat your pussy until you come.” He pulls it off in one quick motion, leaving me in just my bra and skirt. A second later, he’s removed my skirt.
“By the time I’m done, I want you dripping from my beard.”