Ainsley #2
“If it stopped at our deals and what happens during business, sure, but what about all the after-hours stuff? Gossip sites have hounded my brothers and their wives from the beginning of their relationships. Pictures of their kids are splashed across the internet all the time. Pregnancies were announced and baby names were shared online before our extended family or friends were even told about them. They can’t even go out to dinner without the outing becoming a story. That’s not business, that’s invasive.”
“I’m sure the gossip sites just see it as y’all being people of interest.” My heart pounds as a wave of fear passes through me.
This feels like a black mark against my profession, something he holds against me as a journalist. I’m in damage control mode.
“You can’t really blame them for seeing your family and wanting to write about everything that happens to you because you’re Southern gods.
All of you are insanely good-looking, ridiculously wealthy, and blessed beyond belief when it comes to every business deal that comes your way, with lives that seem like fairy tales or far more interesting than average.
Even the bad stuff is worthy of reporting on because of who you are.
You make for epic entertainment, fair or not. ”
He pulls me off the path toward a secluded stand of ancient oaks ringed by fat-headed, pink hydrangea bushes and pushes my back against a huge oak tree dripping with Spanish moss.
He leans an arm on the trunk over my head as he looks down at me with a troubled expression.
“Now I’m using the same gossip machine against my own family for personal gain, and I’ve forced you to be a part of it. It’s fucked up.”
I reach up with one hand to smooth the tension from his forehead and he leans into my touch, closing his eyes.
I slide my hands behind his neck and pull his head toward me as I press up on my toes, molding our bodies together, which brings our lips a breath apart, hoping to provide what little comfort I’m able to, given my job is part of the problem causing his distress.
“You’re doing what you have to.”
I hate seeing him troubled, and it’s a peek inside the head of a mastermind. I know he carefully crafts every move and calculates his plans, but this is the first time he’s shown that he feels the weight of each one far more than he lets on.
“I’m always doing what I have to, not what I want to. I put Olympus, my family, and everyone else, first. It’s the only way to keep what we’ve built intact and moving forward.”
“You’re a good man, but you shouldn’t have to sacrifice everything you want to make all that happen.”
He seems vulnerable for the first time and it makes me want to cut my skin open and pull him inside with me so we can be raw together while I keep us safe with my prickly exterior.
It increases my growing feelings of attachment.
Sirens for the warning system I put in place after Archer devastated me are wailing now.
Still, I can’t help my natural inclination to want to be close to someone who opens up and shares themself with me, who turns the spotlight of their attention on me, who holds me and shows me affection and gets the good feelings flowing that turn me into a red-flag-waving, clingy koala bear that won’t let go even when I know it’s no good for me.
I pull my face away the slightest, hoping to give myself space to remember why I don’t do attachments now, but can’t bring myself to fully disengage, wanting this closeness even more than self-preservation. He’s not Archer. This isn’t the same.
“My life is about sacrifice. That’s my role. It’s not about what I want.” His eyes finally meet mine. He keeps his face close like he needs the contact to be this open.
“What do you want?” I ask, threading my fingers into his hair and looking for some way to comfort him now that he seems to be opening up and dropping the enthusiastic and overly smiley thing he’s had going since I met him.
Maybe that’s his own armor, like I use my attitude and prickly persona.
It wouldn’t surprise me. It must be exhausting to be that on all the time.
He’s genuinely nice and happy, but he’s allowed to feel something other than enthusiasm and excitement.
He can experience the full range of human emotions, rather than simply the good ones that people expect of him.
“I want you to let go of your control with me, give in to what you actually need, and let me show you what unguarded pleasure looks like as I take care of you completely. I want you.”
My breath stutters as I process his request and my warring thoughts.
Fuck it. I want him. It’s more than just wanting his dominant side that spanks me, or wanting to introduce sex into our fake relationship.
He’s shown me this other side, one that’s not masked by his easy smiles and carefree attitude.
He’s given me so much with this admission and openness that I want to do the same.
I let my thoughts and intentions spill into my face, finally letting down my guard, not wearing my anger and hostility to keep him away.
I need him close and I want him to know.
I brush my nose against his gently as I lick my lips, wondering if I'm going to have to initiate this first kiss, or if he will. I nod my acceptance slowly.
“I want that, too.”
“That’s it, Princess,” he breathes as his hands circle my waist, pulling me up his body.
I hold on to his shoulders and wrap my legs around his hips while he closes that tiny distance, crashing his mouth down on mine.
The soft petals of the hydrangeas tickle the skin of my legs.
A quiet moan escapes when his tongue teases my lips apart and I let him in, eager to taste and feel more of him.
His hand tangles in my hair, pulling tight and angling my head as I gasp into his mouth.
He rumbles a pleased groan as he kisses the hell out of me, but he does it slowly and thoroughly.
The scent of green foliage, damp earth, the sea salt and amber smell of him surround me, and I’m lost in the feeling of Payton against me.
I bury my fingers in his soft, dark hair, keeping him just as close.
My tongue tangles with his, tasting mint and man, realizing he’s my new obsession.
He kisses me slowly like he’s learning every bit of my mouth without hurry, teasing out a desire that has my body burning with need.
I grind my hips against him and he rolls his slowly in answer, matching the cadence of this kiss, staying slow, hungry, deep, like he’s fucking my mouth and my pussy against the tree.