Chapter 17
Adrian
Iwanted to fuck her.
That was what I was going to say the first time she asked the question. My cock was threatening to burst through my pants, and I was so fucking aroused that I could barely speak, let alone think.
But…
The more Delilah forced me to think about her question, the more something strange, something weirdly… almost uncomfortable became apparent.
There was a yearning for Delilah that was more than just physical.
Oh, make no mistake about it. She was fucking gorgeous. She was one of the hottest women I’d ever seen in my life. And if I had gotten her pants off, I would’ve fucked her senseless. I would have left her to melt on the bed, my most precious diamond yet.
And it wasn’t even like I would have left her and never called her again.
I enjoyed our games of wits far too much for her to have ever been just a one-night stand—or a one-afternoon stand, as it was.
Put the question of a relationship or marriage to me, and yeah, I probably would have laughed at first. I had entered this dynamic with no interest in repeating what Cassius did, and I was serious about that.
But…
Fuck!
I didn’t like being forced to think like this. I didn’t like having to peel back the layers of my psyche. Fuck. Then again, that’s why Delilah Reyes was the journalist and I was the subject.
Granted, I had never done an interview after coming so close to fingering the journalist to orgasm while she was topless.
“What do I want?” I said slowly, repeating the question, as if that might somehow make sense to me. “Do you want the truth, Delilah?”
She nodded. She looked so nervous, I almost wondered if she might cry. Well, at least it seemed pretty clear she wasn’t going to go write an article about this. If nothing else, it would make her look just as bad as me.
What I didn’t say—would never say—was that a strange part of me also felt off.
Not nervous, I didn’t get nervous. I certainly wasn’t fucking scared.
But there was something unusual about this whole situation, something inexplicable about everything, that I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
It was something that I couldn’t grasp, couldn’t control, and that was irksome.
“The truth is, I have no fucking clue,” I said. “I know I want you. But what you’re asking is not just if I want you, but for how long I want you. And that’s not something I’ve given much thought to. It doesn’t mean you’re a quickie. But I don’t know.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said that out loud to anyone, much less a woman. I exuded certainty and control. It’s how I had gotten to where I was. So to admit that was really saying something.
“You’d be surprised to hear that I appreciate your honesty,” Delilah said. “I’ve been asking you for honesty this whole time. I understand why you didn’t give it at first. It was a game to you.”
“But now we’re not playing games, now we’re doing something much more meaningful,” I said, nodding in sync with Delilah. “I take it that you want something more meaningful?”
I was surprised at how the uncertainty I felt increased tenfold upon asking that question. Why the fuck would I have cared that badly? Because what you want isn’t something you’ll even admit to yourself yet, let alone to her.
I shook my head. I was sure Delilah noticed. If she were smart, for once, she’d stop asking questions and just let me explain everything.
“I guess we’ll just have to fucking see,” I said with a shrug. “I guess time will tell, won’t it?”
I added a small smirk, as if to say Delilah would surely get what she wanted.
But instead, Delilah shrunk back to the side of the bed, so much so she got off it and stood up. Damn if she wasn’t fucking gorgeous topless, but the loss of that hit home harder than anything I was looking at.
“That’s not good enough, Adrian, and you know it,” Delilah said. “Be honest with yourself. Be really honest with yourself. You already know which way you’re leaning. I can see it in your eyes. I want you to say it.”
“You may want it, but I only speak when I want to,” I said. I hated myself for saying that. It sounded so fucking petulant. It was driven in part by how right she was. “If you want a direction I’m leaning in? I will still spend time with you, Delilah, after all this, even if we don’t fuck.”
“But to what end, Adrian?”
I bit my lip. Fuck. Yes, there was something beyond the fucking if I could admit it. She wasn’t looking for an “I love you,” I didn’t think. Not yet, at least. She didn’t even seem to be looking for an “I like you and want to commit to you.”
What if you are?
I again shook my head.
“I truly do not know,” I said.
And that was the most honest answer I could give, and even Delilah seemed to grasp I would—could—say no more.
No one had ever had such an effect on me.
If anyone else, and I mean truly anyone else, had pulled this “wait what are we before we fuck” card, I would have said “nothing,” kicked her out, and found someone else.
The King of Diamonds did not lower himself for a mere ten or nine.
But with Delilah, maybe it was the dynamic we had. Maybe it was the billionaire-journalist struggle for power. Maybe it was just me being fucking stupid after witnessing Cassius rope off. Seriously? Being like him? Not a fucking chance. Not a fucking chance!
“I believe you,” Delilah said. “But I want to be very clear about something. You want to fuck me? That’s the easy way out.
Fucking is ten minutes of ecstasy, and then you can run off, brag to your brothers, and never see me again.
I’m not going to give that up that easily, Adrian.
It has nothing to do with my job and everything to do with me as a person.
You have to show me you really care about me, Adrian. ”
“I do care about you. I brought you out this far—”
Delilah cut me off with a raised hand. With anyone else, I wouldn’t have laughed, I would have just ignored it and kept going. The nerve of her to shut me up…
The ridiculousness that I actually went quiet.
“You brought me out here knowing there was a good chance we would wind up here,” she said. “Do something for me to really show you want more than just my body. Show me that you value me over games of power and bragging rights. Do that?”
She left the question unanswered, but a deaf man could have heard the unspoken words she left hanging. “Do that, and you’ll get to fuck my beautiful body.” Oh, but what a paradox—the more I sought to fuck her, the less likely I’d be able to; the less I tried, the more likely I’d be able to.
I wasn’t breaking any new fucking ground with that “revelation.” It was half the reason my brothers and I practically drowned in pussy on our way to the top. We cared about work, not women, and we got laid so much that we occasionally had to force ourselves to stay at the office to work.
But then again, no one captured my mind—not my heart, but yes, my mind—like Delilah.
She wants to capture your heart.
Don’t be fucking ridiculous. This was never a romantic thing. It was always a chance to bang a hot journalist.
And yet…
“You’re thinking.”
“I told you, I truly don’t know,” I said. That was apparently the wrong answer, because Delilah went to put her clothes back on. OK, I wasn’t getting laid. That fucking sucked.
But if I wanted to get laid later?
“I… take it you’ll need a ride back to your car,” I said. “I’m going to guess as a journalist, you are too poor to afford an Uber.”
“Harsh,” Delilah said with a hint of a smirk. “And we are not too poor to afford an Uber. But we are not too wealthy to decline an offer like that. So yes, if you are offering to drive me back to my car, I will take you up on it.”
“It won’t be offered often. It’s because you’re on the way back to Ruby.”
Delilah just nodded with a small smile. It was like she knew something that I wasn’t saying or maybe even lying to myself about. Fuck, that girl was good.
It was almost painful for me to watch her get dressed. I just sat there on the bed, erection bursting at the zipper of my pants, begging for a chance to pop free into Delilah’s hand or Delilah herself. I wasn’t going to get that today, by now I had accepted that.
But fuck, that primal lust wasn’t going anywhere. If we hadn’t made out and if I hadn’t slid my hand over her clit yet, I might have just yanked her back on the bed. But I didn’t.
And you’re sure that has nothing to do with already trying and failing. That has nothing to do with possibly wanting more than a one-day stand.
That has nothing to do with the possibility that you want something serious with Delilah.
We took a very quiet elevator ride down, a very quiet walk back to the car, and a relatively quiet car ride back to Bean Exchange. Only a couple of pleasantries were exchanged during the car ride about some amusing things we saw on the Vegas roads.
When I pulled up next to her car, Delilah turned to me, her eyes intensely holding me, and asked a question I knew she would not let go until she had an answer for.
“What’s next?”
I shrugged.
“I suppose you’ll want an interview with me at some point, so—”
“No, Adrian, stop being obtuse,” she said. “You want this? Stop speaking in circles and riddles. Start speaking honestly.”
Start speaking honestly? Fucking hell, I prided myself on speaking honestly.
“I will call you when I want you,” I said. “Of that, you can be certain.”
Delilah opened her mouth, but no words came out.
I could practically see her brain ticking along, churning through several possibilities, before she finally just nodded and got out.
She didn’t say goodbye, didn’t say thank you for the morning and afternoon, didn’t say anything other than her final words of “start speaking honestly.”
It felt…
Cold, really. Like that was it?
Well, no, it wasn’t it. It was up to me to regain the upper hand. It was up to me to show Delilah that I really cared about her.
By the time she was in her own car and reversing, I was all smiles.
OK, this was how Delilah wanted to play the game? I could still win on her terms.
And who knew?
Maybe I’d get something even better than I had bargained for.