Chapter 16
Bennett
When I pull up to the restaurant on Sunday morning, Clifton is out front—he’s early for once. I step out of the car and walk toward him.
“You’re not going to tell them, are you?” he asks.
“Tell them what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He gives me a look. “You know what I mean.”
“That you cheated on your girlfriend with her roommate…and I know it’s not the first time you cheated?”
“Yeah, it had been going on for a month—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Two years ago—”
“Okay, okay!” He holds up his hands.
I smirk. I’m not amused that my brother is a serial cheater, but it is amusing to watch him squirm.
“How do you know about that anyway?” he asks.
“I have my sources.” As in, Gil just happened to see my brother at a restaurant, and he overheard some furtive whispers.
Clifton rolls his eyes. “You don’t get it because you live like a monk.”
I don’t bother contradicting him.
“But I think you understand opportunities,” he says with a sneer. “If a better opportunity comes along, you take it, you don’t—”
“Ah, you’re here!” It’s Mom. Dad is a few steps behind her.
Their arrival prevents me from asking Clifton what the fuck is wrong with him.
Zoe is, of course, an immeasurably better person than anyone who’d betray a lifelong friend.
I know she’d never even dream of doing such a thing, and how he could find her lacking in looks next to Macy, I have no idea. It makes zero sense to me.
We head inside and get a table. My parents focus on catching up with Clifton because they don’t talk to him as often—he rarely makes the time to call—and that’s fine with me. I can just sit here and fantasize about punching him in the face.
I’m not particularly prone to violent thoughts, but with Clifton, it’s a different story. Almost fourteen years ago, my father had to hold me back from doing it.
The cheong fun has just been placed on the table when my mother turns her attention to me. “I want to ask you something. How do you feel about consulting a matchmaker? I know you said you don’t need help, and you might find the idea old-fashioned, but…”
Normally, my brother would enjoy this conversation, but today, he looks a little frightened. I presume that’s because it’s the perfect segue into a conversation about Zoe.
“Actually,” I say, “I’m seeing someone.”
Her eyes light up. “You are?”
I’m torn. On one hand, I wish I’d pretended to have a girlfriend sooner because I like seeing my mother so happy. But on the other hand, I feel guilty for lying to my parents.
“Her name is Zoe.” I pick up the teapot and take my time refilling everyone’s teacups.
I want to make my brother nervous as he waits for me to say more. I’m glad he’s here.
“How did you meet?” Dad asks.
“It’s a long story,” I murmur, “but…”
Clifton looks as pale as he did two nights ago.
I take a sip of tea before speaking again, just because I can. “The short answer is that we met through friends.”
I don’t intend to tell our parents exactly what happened; I just want the threat of it to loom over my brother’s head. He might not have cared about Zoe’s feelings when he screwed her over, but he cares about how our parents see him, even if he might claim otherwise.
“When can we met her?” Mom asks.
I consider mentioning my birthday, but I’m afraid Clifton would pretend to be sick if he knew that was coming. Best for him not to think it’ll happen in the near future.
“We haven’t been together long,” I say. “It’s too soon. Maybe in the new year?”
Dad turns to Clifton. “What about that woman you were seeing in the summer? Wasn’t her name also Zoe? Quite a coincidence. Or was it Chloe?”
Clifton nearly chokes on his cheong fun.
I wish I could take a picture of his expression to show Zoe.
When I get home, Zoe bounds down the stairs, and I hold back a smile. I rarely look forward to sharing stories with someone, but I can’t deny that I’m looking forward to telling her about my morning.
“Hey,” she says. “Was Clifton at dim sum?”
“He was. He arrived early and begged me not to say anything.”
“Oh my god.”
“When my parents brought up hiring a matchmaker—”
“They did not!”
“I told them that I was seeing someone, and when my dad asked how we met, I waited to answer, just to watch him freak out.”
“You’re evil.” She’s absolutely delighted, and it’s cute. “If I’d known that revenge was so fun, I would have started doing it earlier.”
As she skips back up the stairs, I recall the day I met her, the way she cheerfully mentioned wanting revenge.
The day that turned my life upside down.
I undo the ribbon, and the red cape falls to the floor. Underneath, Zoe is wearing nothing. Nothing at all. I sink to my knees and…
I jerk my eyes open. Petra is standing in the doorway.
“Sorry.” I shake my head to clear it. “What did you say?”
She steps into my office. “Are you okay? I told you twice that I’m heading out for the day, and you didn’t seem to hear.”
“I’m fine,” I say abruptly. Too abruptly, perhaps. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When she leaves—after casting me a dubious glance—I silently scold myself for thinking of Zoe yet again. At least I wasn’t daydreaming about her during a board meeting, but still. I’m at work, and I’m usually good at focusing when needed.
I answer three emails, then as a reward, I give myself a moment to fantasize about what happens when I put my mouth between Zoe’s legs, the sounds she makes…
I’ve been distracted by thoughts of her for a while now, but it’s gotten much worse since Halloween, which was five days ago. I haven’t slept well since then, either. I should never have agreed to participate in the damn costume contest.
Except that’s the reason we ran into Macy and Clifton, and it was worth the distress I’m feeling now.
I think.
The next morning, after my usual workout, I head up to the main floor and almost walk right into Zoe.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, overwhelmed by her presence.
I’m not used to seeing her so early. If I do see her before work, it’s once I’ve showered and dressed and drunk my coffee. I’m not prepared for her at this hour, so she makes me even more off kilter than usual.
“I just…I couldn’t…” Her gaze slides over my sweaty T-shirt.
Goddammit. She isn’t making this any easier.
“You what?”
“I couldn’t fall back to sleep, so I got out of bed,” she mumbles.
She’s breathing like she just worked out, too, but she’s not in workout clothes: she’s wearing navy dress pants and a blouse that shows the tiniest hint of cleavage.
I head upstairs before I do something I might regret, and I deal with my frustration by jerking off in the shower. I imagine ripping off her clothes. Sliding into her slick heat. Sullying her pretty skin. Anything and everything.
It doesn’t take long to get myself off.
Thursday night, I can’t sleep. Yet again.
Tired of my room, I pad downstairs. I’m vibrating with the need to do something, but it’s fucking two o’clock in the morning, so instead, I turn on the kettle and hope that some chamomile tea works. I’m doubtful it’ll help, but it’s worth a shot.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table when I hear a noise upstairs. Zoe must be up. Hopefully, she’ll just use the washroom, and then…
Footsteps on the staircase.
Fuck.
I can’t deal with this right now. Last time I saw her in the middle of the night…
My pulse speeds up as her footsteps get closer and closer.
She enters the kitchen, wearing a plain T-shirt and fuzzy pants—are all of her pajama pants fuzzy?—with a pattern of colorful llamacorns.
Her hair isn’t as neat as usual, and I want to run my fingers through it and mess it up even more. Afraid my hands will betray me, I put them under the table.
“Can’t sleep?” she asks, far too upbeat for two in the morning. How can she sound so damn perky?
It’s enough to break me.
“Go upstairs, Zoe,” I snarl.
“Why?”
“It’s my house.”
I feel feral and out of control, and it’s not like me.
And she’s annoyingly unbothered. She stands in my kitchen in pajamas and messy hair like she hasn’t a care in the world.
The water boils and the kettle shuts off.
I don’t get up to pour my tea.
Because if I stand up, I know I’ll go to her instead. She’s upended my life, and I just want to screw her senseless, this woman who finds revenge utterly delightful.
She approaches the table like prey with zero sense of self-preservation. She takes the seat across from me. “What are your plans for the weekend?”
“It’s the middle of the night, and I can’t sleep.” I grit my teeth. “Can you just shut up and go back to bed?” I know it’s rude, but I don’t care.
Zoe looks unfazed. If anything, she seems pleased that I’ve snapped.
Goddammit.
“Well,” she says saucily, “why don’t you make me shut up?”
I freeze, but every inch of my body throbs with desire. This woman is entirely too much.
“How?” Against my better judgment, the word escapes my lips.
“You know what I mean, Bennett.” She shoots me a smile unlike any I’ve seen on her face before. A smile that’s truly seductive.
I know it’s intentional.
I clench my hands into fists so I don’t touch her. “Why are you doing this?”
She shrugs. “Because I want to sleep with you, and I know you want that, too. We have good chemistry, don’t we? I think it would be…I think it would be lots of fun.”
“Nobody thinks of me as fun.”
“Are you saying you’re terrible in bed?”
“No…well, yes.” A feeble attempt to discourage her.
“Somehow, I doubt that.” She leans forward. “Don’t worry, after everything that happened, I’m not looking for anything serious.”
Yeah, everything that happened with my brother. It’s good to remind myself of that, but it doesn’t have as much impact as it should, not when she’s so close that I can count the light freckles on her skin.
“It’ll just be sex,” she says, “and if it’s as bad as you’re suggesting—”
“I—”
“—then we won’t do it again. But if it’s good, we can keep doing it until I move out in a few weeks. No strings attached.”
She touches my cheek, just like I touched her the last time we were here in the middle of the night. That simple contact…it feels too damn good. I can’t help leaning into her hand. I can’t help wanting that hand on my cock.
It’s been three years since I’ve had sex, and she’s made it clear she has no expectations. I know a good opportunity when I hear one.
My self-control crumbles.
“Okay,” I say, “but I do have one condition.”
“What is it?”
“No kissing on the mouth.”
Because that’s not something I’ve done in nearly fourteen years, and it isn’t going to change tonight.
I swear there’s a flicker of disappointment in her expression, but she says, “Fine. As long as you kiss me in other places.”
She winks at me before getting up, and my pulse quickens even further. When she straddles me, the heat and weight of her body in my lap is enough to make me groan. Then she starts kissing my neck the way she did at Nautilus.
Except this time, it’s not for show. This time, there’s nobody here but us.
I haul her into my arms and head up the stairs.