Man in Charge

Chapter 23

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

TESS

“ S eriously?” I said out loud to the empty room when the knock came on my door. I’d been lying on the bed with a washcloth over my eyes, hoping to minimize any signs of crying, but I’d still been aware of the activity below.

Or rather, the lack of activity.

The front door had stopped opening and shutting. There hadn’t been the sound of voices from outside or engines starting for almost twenty minutes. The party was obviously over.

Which meant that Kendra was now free to ignore my plea to wait until tomorrow and was instead knocking on my door.

Typical.

At least she hadn’t just barged in, which would also have been typical.

With a sigh, I threw the washcloth aside and heaved myself off of the bed, straightening the slip dress that I hadn’t had the energy to change out of as I stood. Then I padded over to the door and forced a smile as I opened it.

“Kendra, I really don’t—” My smile dropped as soon as I saw that it wasn’t my boss standing there but rather my lover.

My fucking engaged lover.

“No, no, no, no.” I started to shut the door, but he wedged his shoulder and a shoe in before I could get it closed.

“Just hear me out,” he said softly. Pleading.

The me that had last spoken to him would have let him in right away, not because that me wanted to hear what he had to say, but because she desperately wanted him to understand why she had made that pitch when she hadn’t been authorized.

The last two hours of solitude, though, had given me time to reprioritize my emotions. Yes, I still cared first and foremost for the DRF—well, at least that’s what I was telling myself—but now I was less worried about the lie I’d told and more pissed about the lie Scott had told.

I was almost as pissed at him as I was at myself for having fallen for yet another player’s game.

And while it would certainly feel good to go off on him in the way that I so keenly desired to go off on him, I’d decided the better choice was to have nothing to do with him at all. For the DRF’s sake, but mine as well.

And after I confessed what I’d done to Kendra tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to have anything to do with him. She’d take over negotiations, or she’d kill the whole thing. Either way, I wouldn’t have to talk to Scott Sebastian ever again.

Except that here he was, insistently trying to wheedle his way into my room.

“There’s nothing for you to say, Scott. Go away. You’re making a scene.” He wasn’t, really, but I was astutely aware of Kendra’s bedroom just down the hall.

“I’m not leaving until you let me talk.” He was stronger than me and had already worked more of his leg in without even trying.

Goddammit.

If I didn’t let him in, this would turn into a scene.

I swung the door open, so abruptly that he tripped as he came in. I stifled a chuckle. Served him right. He still looked debonair despite his bobbling entrance and the loose tie around his neck.

Fuck, he was hot. Stupid hot. As always.

I took a step back—as if a handful of inches could diminish his effect on me—and crossed my arms protectively over my chest. “Speak.”

He started to move forward, and I took another step back, my hand flying out to stop him. “Nope. This is my space. Do not invade. You can say what you need to say from there.”

I probably should have established these kinds of boundaries with him from day one. Better late than never.

His mouth was a straight line, but the pinch of his forehead between his brows gave away his frustration. “Fine. I’ll stay here.”

It was a meager win, yet the victory made me drunk enough to push for another. “And when you’ve said your piece, you leave.”

“Sure,” he said flatly. “If you let me explain then I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

I was sure there was a catch, beyond the catch that just allowing him in my presence was dangerous, but it was the best bet I had at getting him to go away.

My arms back over my chest, I cocked my hip. “Well?”

Now that he had my attention, he seemed not to know what to do with it. He ran a hand over his face, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not what you think,” he said finally.

“Oh, no.” Fuck, no. “We’re not having a conversation where you deliver all the stereotypical bullshit that you think you should say when you’ve been caught playing a girl. That’s a waste of my time, and I’ve already given you more than you deserve.”

He frowned. “That...that hurts. But fair.”

“Fuck your hurt.” Especially fuck his hurt because his expression tugged at my chest and made me want to wrap my arms around him, which was definitely not something I should be doing ever again.

It’s a tactic , I reminded myself. He knows how to give good game . So good, I could never possibly win.

The only solution was to stop playing. I looked him square in the eye for the first time since he’d come to my room, pretending I was bolder than I felt. “Now do you have anything worth listening to, or are you ready to leave?”

“I…” His face changed. “Have you been crying?”

Goddammit.

“No.” More false bravado on my part.

His shoulders drooped. “Tessa, I’m sorry,” he said, starting a step toward me then rethinking it. “I hate that I’ve made you cry.”

And I hated that he knew I had.

But also I hated that he automatically assumed he was responsible, which of course he was, and mostly I hated that I’d even cried in the first place.

If I didn’t turn that hate into anger, I’d start crying again in front of him. “Fuck off. Who said I was even crying over you? I have more important things on the line here than a dumb boy.”

Mentally, I told myself to listen to my words.

“The foundation. Of course.” It was almost worth it to hear smallness in his voice. Like it probably wasn’t the first time he’d had to confront the idea that the world didn’t revolve around him, but it was a notion that was embarrassingly difficult for him to grasp.

Then he was back to his assured self. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“And my job.”

“I’ll take care of that too.”

“God, I don’t want your—” Pity/privilege/help. I wanted him to realize that even his mega last name couldn’t fix everything.

But I didn’t actually know that was true.

And I couldn’t turn his help away. Because of the foundation. If I had to accept that help at the moment, though, I definitely would cry.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now, please.” Please? Like he deserves manners. “And I’m guessing that isn’t what you came here to talk about either.”

“No, it’s not. I’m just having a hard time figuring out where to start with the rest.”

Watching him struggle wasn’t helping me either. “Let me help you—you’re engaged. You fucked around on your fiancée like the player that I knew you were from day one. I should have known better. And no, I won’t tell Kendra, but only because I want to be through with this whole fucked-up situation, not because I have any desire to protect your stupid ass. There. No speech needed, and you can go.”

I sounded exhausted and resigned because I was, and I needed him to leave so I could sleep it off and deal with this whole fiasco tomorrow.

“It’s not a real engagement,” he said bluntly. He let that sit for a second, seeming to realize it was a bomb that needed time to fully explode. “And you can tell Kendra anything you want because it’s not a real relationship.”

I quelled the hope leaping in my chest, reminding myself that he was as smooth as satin. “Well, that’s a line I haven’t heard before.”

“It’s not a line.” Shifting his weight, he let out a frustrated huff. “Listen, remember how I told you I wanted to get out of PR? I’ve been bugging my dad about it for years. I know the job. I’m good at the job. But I’m sick and tired of covering up all his scandals. It’s not fun. It makes me feel like shit.”

“Skip the emotional stuff. I don’t care about your feelings.” No way was I going to feel sympathy for him.

“Anyway, I was over it. So finally, I asked him what I had to do to get moved to another division. I’d even settle for consumer goods. Whatever to get out of PR. He said I had to get married. Suitably married. He’d give me a seat on the board, too, if I let my parents pick the bride.”

Uh... “And you agreed to that?”

“I. Well. Yes. I had no reason not to.”

That stung for some reason. Maybe simply because he looked as though he’d expected it to sting. Or maybe because it solidified what I already knew—that rich men cared about the world differently than not-rich women.

He rushed to expand. “I’m thirty-five years old, Tess. I’ve never had a relationship that I wanted to be more than casual. Or I hadn’t back then. I’d never expected to end up in a marriage based on love. It seemed like it was probably the right time.”

I ignored his effort to change the tense of what he’d wanted in a relationship. “So Kendra…”

“So my mother has known the Montgomerys for years and has had her eye on Kendra for a long time. She checked all her boxes—came from the right background, had the right kind of education and job, moved around in the right circles. We sat down with her, talked about it. Made sure she agreed that there was no expectation of monogamy.”

He emphasized the last line, obviously wanting the fact to be clear.

It meant little to me. Engaged was engaged. “And she said yes. I don’t know what your definition of real is because that sounds like a real engagement to me.”

“That’s just it—she didn’t say yes. She said she needed time to think about it. Then she ghosted. That was three fucking months ago. The next time I had any contact with her was tonight, when I showed up here, and she was wearing the stupid ring my mother had given her. No one told me she’d agreed. I was as blindsided as you.”

It was a hell of a story.

I let it sink in, examining the parts so I could appreciate the whole. Kendra ghosting for three months. Yeah, that sounded like her. Spontaneously showing up like she’d been there the whole time was on par as well. “That’s really fucked up.”

“Tell me about it.” He sounded more relieved than I liked.

He didn’t get to be relieved. Not when I was still tied up in knots. “Her showing up out of nowhere is fucked up—and no, I don’t agree you were as blindsided as I was, because I was the one completely in the dark—but also the whole thing is fucked up, Scott. An arranged marriage? That’s the stuff of fiction, not real life.”

“It’s my real life.”

Oh, no. There it was. The urge to feel sorry for him.

I threw my head back and covered my mouth with my hands, as if that could suffocate the feelings inside before they became anything.

But they were already there, alive and beating against my chest like the djembe drummers at the Times Square subway station.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” And what would have changed if he had? Would I have resisted the pull between us? Would I have said, hey, open relationship means open bed ?

The look Scott gave me said he also saw the futility. “What was I supposed to say? I’m really into you, and oh, by the way, I might be engaged to your boss except not really because if she ever shows up again, I’m going to tell her the deal’s off, and yeah, I must be fucking crazy because I’m throwing away my life’s ambitions for a girl I’ve only known for three weeks.”

My breath stuttered as tiny fireworks went off in my chest.

Nope, nope, nope. I wasn’t special. I couldn’t be special. “There’s really nothing between you and Kendra?”

“Nothing.”

“You told me you’d fucked her.”

“Two years ago when we were both tipsy at a party. I’ve hardly spoken to her since.”

Whoa. There was something in the world that belonged more to me than to Kendra Montgomery. And it was Scott Sebastian. Her fiancé.

I sank down on the floor and leaned my back against the bed.

It would have been easier if he were simply a cheater. It would be easier to hate him. I’d feel played, and that would be heartbreaking, but that was a wound I was used to. I knew the steps to recovery.

Feeling wanted, now that was something I had very little experience with.

I peered up at him. He was devastating with his blue eyes and beardy face and pouty lips. Beyond his ridiculously hot looks and his on-point charm, was there something there? My gut said so. As annoying as his interruptions had been in my pitch meetings, he’d always had the most thoughtful comments, showing snippets of what must be a complicated and fascinating mind.

And the way he’d been with Teyana at the opera, saying and doing the right thing for her without smothering or domineering like so many other men had done.

And how he let me glimpse moments of vulnerability when he talked about his father and being stuck in his job.

I’d only seen the trailer for Scott Sebastian, but I was already sure I’d love the whole film.

“Are you really thinking about throwing it all away?” It came out tentative and wistful and also a bit incredulous. Because it was a stupid thing for him to consider for a girl he’d just met, and I was scared that he meant it.

But also, I wished that he did. And that scared me too.

He slid down the door until he was on the floor, the same way I had when I’d come to the room to cry, except instead of curling up in a ball, he bent one knee and stretched the other long leg out in front of him so that all I’d have to do was lean forward and I could touch the sole of his designer dress shoe. “At least,” he said after thoughtful consideration, “put it on pause.”

Well, that was more reasonable. And vague. And still the only thing I wanted to know was, “Because of me?”

He nodded.

“We don’t even know what this is.” And what were we even talking about? He’d put off his engagement and we’d...what? We barely knew each other.

But he knew me better than Kendra.

“I know I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he said.

“And that might be all it is.”

“Or it could be more. I’ve never wanted to find out before.”

My stupid heart did a backflip. “And now you do.”

“Yes. I want to see. If you’ll let me.”

The enormity of his statement pushed my eyes to study the floor. Those weren’t player words. They were actually the opposite of player words. Most men I fell for were all, This isn’t serious. It’s all just fun. Don’t you dare try to wonder what else we could be.

I’d never once heard one of them say, Let’s see .

Immediately, I found ways to diminish what he was saying. He’d never wanted more than casual before because he hadn’t heard the ticking of the clock. This most likely had nothing to do with me. It would have been whomever he happened to bed next. This was about feeling trapped.

Though he did say the engagement discussion happened three months ago. Surely there had been other women between then and me.

I lifted my head again. As soon as our eyes caught, there it was—the blaze of desire, as instant and intense as a lit match meeting gas. His pupils darkened. A hum began low in my belly, ancient and primal in tone.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, his gaze penetrating.

“I’m an idiot.”

“For getting involved with me?”

“For that, and for still being...affected by you.” We both knew affected was code for turned-on . “When she’s down the hall. How fucked up is that?”

I didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes went even darker. “That doesn’t make you fucked up or an idiot. You feel that way because you’re a kinky goddess. One of the reasons I’m so affected by you.”

Yep, fire. He and I sharing space always ended up with us in flames.

I jumped to my feet. “You should go.”

He rose slowly, somehow managing to be closer to me than before when he was standing. “Okay. I said I would.”

“You did.” I couldn’t tell if he’d stepped forward or if I had.

“Do you want me to?”

I nodded. Emphatically. “No.”

Flame drawn to flame, his lips crashed into mine, eager and greedy and out of control. There was very little foreplay. We’d already done that with our eyes and our words and our being in the same room. It already felt too long since we’d touched. Too long since I’d felt whole and perfect, his cock filling the parts of me that now felt achingly empty. We weren’t wasting another minute before he was inside me again.

“Fuck, your ass,” he said, my dress around my waist, his hands wrapped around me and stuck down my panties to grab my cheeks. Whatever else he wanted to say about it was swallowed in a molten-hot kiss. The stiff rod grinding against my belly told me it was a fair guess that my ass made him hot.

I gave up on undoing his shirt buttons and moved to work on his belt. As soon as he was unfastened enough to get down his pants, I stroked my hand inside his boxer briefs, desperate to feel the hot column of flesh. Just touching the smooth skin with my palm made my pussy throb and weep and need, need, need.

Abruptly, Scott broke away. “Turn around.” He was already turning me. When I was facing the bed, he reached both arms around and plumped my breasts through the dress. My nipples turned into sharp darts as he pinched them between his fingertips. (Hallelujah for tits that could handle going braless!) Then, he tugged the silky material down so that he could touch me skin-to-skin as he rutted against my backside.

I glanced down to watch as he roughly fondled my tits like they were melon-sized stress balls, designed to be squeezed and toyed with and handled. When I whimpered, he growled then pushed between my shoulder blades, bending me over until my forearms hit the mattress.

I next felt his hands at my hips where his fingers hooked into my panties. Wriggling, I helped him pull them down. A rustle of fabric afterward, and I was sure his own pants were down, his cock free. I lifted my ass and spread my legs, making room for him, inviting him into my aching pussy.

His fingers came first. Two solid digits sawing in and out of me. “You’re dripping, Tessa. All for me?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been wet like this for me? All night? Before you knew the truth or after?”

Oh, God. “Before. All night.” From the moment I saw him at another woman’s side. Didn’t matter if he was unavailable, as long as he was in the room, my body was tuned in and turned on.

“Me too, baby. As soon as I turned and saw you in this fuck-tight dress. Your tits pressing against that thin fabric like they wanted to be seen. Your bare neck... I wanted to decorate it white.”

If he kept talking dirty to me like this, I was going to be done before he even got in me. And I really needed him to be in me, and not just with his fingers.

“Give me what I really want,” I begged, contradicting my words by chasing his hand as it pulled away because hey, anything was better than being empty.

“What is that?”

“You.”

“Me, how? Another finger?” Two fingers became three, not nearly an adequate substitution for the thickness of his cock.

I wouldn’t get it until I asked for it. Those were the rules. I knew that about him. “I want your cock. I want you to fuck me.”

“Good girl. I want that too.”

The praise brought relief because I knew that what would follow would be reward. His fingers pushed in again, then dragged out slowly until they were completely gone. They reappeared in front of my face, a silent command to suck him clean, which I did eagerly, my body shuddering as he moaned. Behind me, I could feel his shaft jerk against my upper thigh, teasing me with pleasure yet to come.

Any second I would feel him there . The nudge of his head against my hole. Any second. Any...

“Fuck!” he said. An exasperated curse, not the I’m-so-fucking-into-this kind. “No condom.”

I delighted a tiny bit in the fact that he hadn’t seen this coming, that he most likely hadn’t brought one at all this weekend, which meant he hadn’t been planning to fuck Kendra before I’d shown up either.

But the delight was short-lived because fuck . No condom.

I was on birth control. I could tell him. He could swear he was clean, and I’d believe him like a horny-ass dope and deal with the consequences later.

“The nightstand!” I exclaimed, remembering suddenly where we were. “Leila keeps each room stocked.” Along with a copy of the Holy Bible. Benefit of Kendra coming from a family of social activists that pushed for things like sex education and free birth control and the end to STDs spread all in Jesus’s name.

The sound of a drawer opening and closing, followed by the rip of foil, and then finally, he shoved himself in, and Lord almighty, it was divine.

Divinity in the form of rapid-fire thrusts, I decided, was my new favorite form of worship. I could practically hear the angels singing. Hell, I was singing with them, gasping and crying out as Scott drilled into me.

I was mindless.

Not so mindless that I wasn’t conscious of my volume. Fully aware that Kendra’s room was close by, I tried to be quiet. But a little bit I didn’t try, too, because maybe if she heard us that would be all right. Or even more than all right.

Fuck, what was wrong with me?

“This feels like cheating,” I panted, my breasts jiggling with the force of Scott’s thrusts.

“That’s why it’s so hot.”

He bit the top of my shoulder, and that was hot too, but he was right. A lot of the current hot factor was that we were fucking while his fiancée/not-fiancée slept unawares down the hall.

Kink. E.

Super kinky.

A twinge of moral guilt interrupted my building orgasm. “But tell me again that it’s not?”

His mouth now was at my ear, his body completely bent over mine, smothering and comforting me all at once. “Is that really what you want to hear me say right now?”

No, it wasn’t. Because a part of me wanted to believe that this was wrong, that we were wrong, because that was exciting and sexy but also because it was maybe a little bit the truth.

All it took after that was Scott’s arm snaked around my waist and the press of his thumb against my clit, and I detonated like a bomb, clenching and coming and making a mess all over his magnificent cock.

His other hand flew to my mouth to cover my cry. “Fuck, Tessa.” And then his thrusts stuttered and slowed and then stilled as he grunted out his own release.

By the time my knees felt like they wouldn’t collapse if I tried to stand, shame began to settle.

Which was when Scott tugged me up and turned me into him. “It’s not cheating. Because I’m not engaged. I’m going to fix it.”

A shaky breath in and the shame became less overwhelming. A shaky breath out, and I almost believed him.

I liked believing him. If he held me all night, if he fucked me every time we woke, I wondered if I could believe him completely by the time the sun rose or if the light of day would expose the idea of us as a lie.

I had a better shot at the former if I was in his arms.

Lifting my mouth, I pressed a kiss against his chin. “Will you stay?”

I was nervous about the answer. He couldn’t say yes if his relationship with Kendra was more than he’d let on. But he could say no, and it wouldn’t mean he’d lied. It could simply mean that he was in a house with his parents, his fiancée, and her parents, and that he had some sense of decorum.

“I shouldn’t,” he said, brushing his lips against mine. “But I will. It’s either stay or sleep on the couch. Because, apparently, I was assigned a room with Kendra.”

Assigned to room with her because everyone assumed they’d be fucking because the two of them were fucking engaged.

Reality came swiftly barreling toward me, and I pulled out of his arms. “Fuck, Scott. I can’t do sharing. I know that’s a lot to ask when we’re just feeling things out, but?—”

“Hey.” He pulled me back to him, placing a single finger on my lips to shush me up. “I’m not interested in anyone but you, Tessa. I haven’t touched another woman since I laid eyes on you, and I have absolutely no intent to while we figure this out. And neither will you.”

“You’re right. I won’t touch another woman either.” I grinned against his finger. It smelled like me, and another wave of shame and arousal rolled over me.

“Well. If you do, just invite me to the party.”

I sobered. “No other men for me, Scott. Just you.”

“Just you.”

Why did it feel like we were taking vows? Maybe because I recognized that they were probably the most earnest words he’d ever said to a woman.

“Then you’ll stay. Can’t figure out anything with you on the couch.” I kissed him in that way that told him we wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon and ignored the dreadful feeling that we weren’t the ones in control of figuring anything out at all.