20. Cooper
TWENTY
Cooper
S unlight peeks through the gap in the curtains when I wake and I don’t need to open my eyes to know that she’s gone… again. Stretching my arm out, I feel around for any sign of warmth, just to be sure, but the other side of the bed is stone cold.
Letting out a sigh of frustration as I climb out of bed, I run over the rules we agreed to the other day. I only agreed to them because I want her. To me, they are unnecessary because she has all of me, even if she doesn’t realize it.
Thinking back over last night causes me to drop my head and a small smile to grace my lips.
Last night was different. At least it was for me.
Seeing her dancing with those guys made me jealous and I’m man enough to admit that.
So when I dragged her from the club, I had one thought on my mind…
to make her mine . At the time, I didn’t care that anyone could have seen us. I still don’t .
I want everyone to know who she belongs to .
Last night I fell asleep with ease for the first time in a very long time.
With my arms wrapped around Meghan, everything just felt…
right. When I ran out on her the other week, I had the exact same thought run through my mind, but this time, when I thought about how I could get used to falling asleep like that every night, it didn’t incite panic in me.
I was at peace .
Using the bathroom, I get ready for the day, showering and dressing in a white dress shirt, navy blue chinos, and matching navy blue blazer. I’ll pair it with a pair of brown Oxfords. My plans for the day include a lunch date with my mom at one and some work in the office.
My parents' marriage ended because, ultimately, my father loved his work more than he loved my mother. Catherine Jackson has embraced her newly found singledom and has been going on date after date, giving me unwanted updates. It should be illegal for a mom to share details of her escapades with her child . I love her, but that’s a step too far.
It’s a little after ten, so I head downstairs for a breakfast of coffee before setting up in my home office to go through my emails and review some files for court next week.
Leaning against the countertop, I wait for the coffee machine to brew my much needed caffeine fix, my gaze looking around the space with fresh perspective.
My kitchen is, for the most part, untouched as most of my meals are either takeout, reheated meals made by my housekeeper or dining out with clients.
Glistening cupboards that, annoyingly, show any fingerprint marks hold china and cutlery that has been largely unused in the five years I’ve lived here.
There are modern appliances, but other than the coffee machine, I couldn’t tell you if they’ve been switched on.
It's not a home.
It’s cold and lacks love and laughter.
Briefly, I wonder what I can do to make it more inviting for Meghan.
I want her to come over and not want to leave.
It’s as my eyes are bouncing around the room that I notice the slip of paper on the otherwise clear kitchen island.
Leaning across, I snatch up the handwritten note, barely resisting the urge to hold it to my nose and see if her scent lingers.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Get a grip, Cooper.
I skim my eyes over the note the first time before going back to read it again, word for word:
Good morning, sir.
I’m sorry I ran out, but rule number six— no sleepovers! Maybe you can punish me again...
See you on Monday. I know I’ll be thinking about choking on your perfect cock again all weekend.
Meghan
P.S. Even though I’m on the pill, I vote for condoms.
She’s crazy if she thinks I’m waiting two whole days to see her again. Pulling my phone out of my pants pocket, I bring up her contact information, opening a new message, I type out a reply to her.
Cooper
I got your note. Last night wasn’t your punishment, Meghan.
Be at my place tonight at nine sharp. I don’t care what you wear, but be warned, I may rip it off.
They will know to let you up and the door will be unlocked. I want you naked and on my bed when I find you.
As I watch the text bubbles appear as she types, I think about the fact that I haven’t ever texted her before and that we’ve always kept our correspondence professional.
It’s crazy to think how much everything has changed in such a short space of time.
I never would have thought I’d act on my desires for her, but I also wouldn’t take any of it back.
My eyes are glued to my cell as I watch the dots dance before disappearing and reappearing, unable to tear myself away as I wait to see what she has to say.
Meghan
Yes, sir.
More dancing bubbles, before another message comes through.
Meghan
My legs will be spread and my mouth open and ready for you.
Fuck.
My cock twitches at her words and I adjust myself, briefly considering if I should get her to come over now.
I need to have more self control when it comes to her, so I put my phone down and busy myself with making coffee.
Heading to my home office down the hallway, I hope I’ll be able to distract myself until tonight, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face at the prospect of seeing her again.
Of tasting her again.
Of making her mine again.
At five minutes to one, I walk into a restaurant called Amour. My mom likes to dine here for our bi-weekly lunches. I address the hostess as my gaze roams the room before landing on my mom. Pointing her out to the hostess, I make my way over to her table, a smile on my face.
“Mother,” I greet as I kiss her on both cheeks before taking the seat opposite.
She assesses me, her gaze intense before she says, “Cooper, you look good, my dear. Have you met someone?”
Jeez, already going in for the kill.
She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing things out.
“How are you, Mom?” I ask, avoiding the question.
I don’t know what Meghan and I are at the moment. I know what I want us to be, but I also know what Meghan wants to classify us as, and I refuse to label what we have as that .
Before I share anything with my mom, I need to sort through my confusing thoughts. I’m not about to tell her I’m fucking my assistant and that we have rules, but that I would rather scrap them and give a proper relationship a try.
“Okay, we’ll circle back to my question soon, my dear…” I knew it wouldn’t be that easy to get out of answering her. “I’m having fun, as always. I’ve been on three dates since we last saw each other. Harold is my favorite, because he knows what he’s doing,” she says with a wink .
“Okay, I don’t need to know about this,” I exclaim. “Why do we have to go over this every single time?” I jump in before she can go into any more detail, holding my hands up as if that will ward off her words.
Tsk ing at my question, she squints her eyes at me, assessing me before she speaks. I drop my eyes to the menu, if only to avoid her all knowing gaze.
“You know, you should get a nice girl like your assistant. Maybe even your assistant… Meghan, isn’t it?”
My eyes snap up from the menu I’ve been perusing, and I attempt to school my features into a mask of indifference. She’s looking at her own menu, her face completely blank, not giving me a hint as to why she would bring Meghan up.
“Why do you think that?” I ask cautiously, my eyes on her, looking for any clue that she knows.
She can’t know what we’re doing, surely?
I guess if she’s figured something out and brings it up, it’s technically not me that’s broken the rules by telling her.
“She seems like a nice girl. She has good manners. When I show up unexpectedly, she always takes care of me. Plus, I think she’s gorgeous and I think you’d make beautiful babies.” She laughs, like what she’s just said is an insignificant thing and not the equivalent of throwing a grenade in my lap.
I respond without thinking. “Yes, she’s a nice girl and beautiful, but that doesn’t mean she’d be interested in being with a guy like me. Let alone have children with me. I work too much for me to even consider starting a relationship with someone.”
Is that what I want though? A relationship with Meghan. Would Meghan even want more than what we currently have? Would she want me ?
I know I want more with her but, realistically, is that something I can give her or is it a pipedream that will always be just that, a pipedream?
I’m contemplating this when my mom reaches across the table and grasps my hand in hers, holding on tightly. On her face is a look of motherly love and I turn my hand over to squeeze hers in return, letting her know I’m okay.
“You would be a prize, my darling boy,” she whispers fiercely, squeezing my hand back.
“You need to realize that not every relationship ends like mine and your father’s.
My biggest regret is that we may have made you think that if you work hard, you can’t have a happy and fulfilling relationship.
You aren’t your father. Just because you went into the same field as him doesn’t mean that you won’t be able to find that balance.
You already have more balance than he did.
Look at you, you’re making time for your mother and I know you would make time for any woman you had a relationship with.
” She looks at me with sadness in her eyes and I wonder if it’s there from having lost her husband or from a fear that I might follow his same path.
I don’t respond to her because I’m not entirely sure what to say. I know I’m not my father, but one wrong decision could have me ending up the exact same man that he is. My eyes go back to the menu in my hand as I try to get my mind to focus on what to eat and not where my life is going.
My mom’s only looking out for me and I don’t want her to be upset, or have her thinking that I’m going to be single forever, but I also can’t tell her about Meghan and whatever the hell it is that we have going on.