Chapter 16
Arya
“Shit,” I mutter as I lean against the wall under the cold shower spray.
I was supposed to fake interest in Michael to keep him wrapped around my finger. And okay, mission accomplished, except that I’m not faking.
I’ve started giving a shit about him in ways that go beyond basic human decency. I’ve already come to terms with being attracted to him, and I’m trying to come to terms with the amazing sex. But last night, in his arms, I slept deep and peacefully, and when I woke, I didn’t want to get up.
So, here I am, swearing under my breath in his shower again, knowing that I’ve screwed up.
Knowing as well that it will probably happen again.
Did you catch feelings? You did, didn’t you?
I frown. It’s not even three days since we first slept together. It’s too soon to be catching feelings. Maybe I’m just lonely. Maybe I’m just vulnerable with all the shit that’s going on.
At least it looks like I’m not the only one.
My heart pounds, and my head swirls with worry. If I can’t bring myself to take my revenge on this guy, what does it say about me? That I’ll let men walk all over me like Dad has done his best his whole life. That I’ll take good dick over getting myself some justice.
“I can’t live with myself if I do that,” I whisper. I need to protect my reputation and pride. If I let Michael walk on me, other men, on and off the Net, will think I’m weak like that.
But I don’t want to hurt him. I am starting to feel guilty at the very thought.
I’ve got to find a way to rethink all of this so that I come out on top without doing anything I can’t live with. He’s my rival, in the end, not my enemy.
Or at least, he wasn’t until our parents got involved.
It was actually pretty hot to hear him say he wanted to punch my dad. I shouldn’t think that, but... I kind of want to punch my dad, too, at this point.
Hell, at this point, I want to wear a red minidress to his funeral, which is another reason not to be at my parents’ place right now.
I weigh the conflict inside of me and set my jaw. I’ll find a way to handle this. I just have to admit that actually doing the big idiot harm is off the table. I’ll find another way to own his ass.
My grand plan lasts only long enough for him to step, naked except for a condom, into the shower behind me. I know about the rubber because my only warning that he’s on his way is the rustle of its wrapper being torn open.
I can’t see a goddamn thing since my hair is full of conditioner, and I’m head-down working it through. “Uh, hey, wait a sec—” I start, but he’s already in behind me and yelling in shock and dismay.
“Oh, God, what the fuck? Why is it cold? ”
“I... I was trying to...” I flail for the shower knob and turn the water to warm quickly.
He lets out a sigh of relief and catches his breath. “Jesus Christ, cold showers? Are you secretly a Navy SEAL or something?”
I can’t help but giggle at the absurdity as I start rinsing out my hair. “No. I was just...” Trying to stop being horny for you. “Trying to wake up.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve got an entire fucking coffee counter for that.” His tone is gentle but a little exasperated. “I’ve even got a milk steamer. I promise you that will do the job just as well as ball-shrinkingly freezing water at six in the morning.”
I finish rinsing out and turn to look down at him. “They look fine to me.”
He scoffs. “You’re biased,” he challenges, and I just roll my eyes at him. That makes him laugh.
“Guess I ruined things without meaning to, huh?” I confess as I look up at him. His dick is at half-mast, and he’s only starting to recover from being all-over gooseflesh.
He looks down at himself and shrugs, then raises his head, smirking. “Nah.”
He pins me against the wall under the spray and covers me with kisses, one hand busy between my thighs, until I’m trembling, wobbly, and clutching at him. Finally, when I’m breathless and squirming against him, he crouches down and settles me over him, gripping my hip with one hand.
He pushes up into me, and I squirm between him and the tiles, and the pressure in just the right places sends tingles through my clit that make me whimper and moan into his mouth. We move together roughly, and his hoarse groans in my ear turn me on as much as the sensations.
I almost want to fight the pleasure about to overwhelm me, to spend more time with him deliciously moaning while he fights not to blow his load until I’ve climaxed. The look on his face is priceless: eyes closed, lips parted with bliss, then widening to let out another hoarse, animal groan as I rock against him.
His cock jumps inside me, and he thrusts upward roughly as I hear him shout, “Oh,” so that it echoes inside the shower stall—and then my pussy clenches around him hard, and I sob and squirm with ecstasy. He squeezes me close and moans my name in my ear, and the way he says it hits me right in the heart.
This feeling is the antidote to everything my family makes me feel. I’ve wanted to find it for years. And now, I’m feeling it from my most dangerous professional rival. This happiness, this peace.
He helps me back to bed, my hair in a towel but my body naked and tingling. Many soft kisses and a fresh condom later, he’s inside me again, slowly rocking against me while we gasp, whisper, and stroke each other.
He makes me come twice that way, the first long and luxuriant, the second, like slow sweet ripples in a summer pond. Then, he groans long and low in my ear and fucks me for a few slow, hard strokes before arching, shuddering, and finally settling over me gently.
I lie there staring at the ceiling with blurry eyes, rosy from orgasms and more scared than I should be. I feel out of control. He could exploit this. He could use me, humiliate me. He could break my heart on top of everything else.
But that doesn’t change what I’m feeling. It’s raw vulnerability, and it’s probably unwise. It doesn’t matter. I want Michael. I don’t want to walk away from this, whether or not I spank his ass for crossing me.
We go over the guest list for Michael’s parents’ party and check through all of them. No guest from the party entered any of the rooms where a login was recorded during the corresponding login time. Since most people logged in from bedrooms and private offices, it makes sense... but it’s another goddamn dead end.
“Fuck. Thought maybe we had something,” he quietly grumbles as he pushes back from his laptop.
“It was still worth checking out,” I say gently. I’ve been subdued ever since I drowsed off in his arms again. Too much to think about. “Look, since you’re feeling more focused now, let’s see what other visitors your family has had.”
He nods... reluctantly. He seems embarrassed that we’re still not on top of this. Of course, the reason we haven’t been is mostly because we’ve been on top of each other. But I refuse to have any regrets about that, and I hope he doesn’t either.
We’ll figure it all out now .
“So... none of the guests were involved, and nobody else had access during these hours except your staff and your family.” I venture this somewhat gently as we watch screen after screen of time stamp comparisons between video logs and Net logins.
“And some of my father’s men, yes,” he grunts and nods. “That doesn’t mean the perp was family. They could have prepared for the cyber intrusion physically days in advance.”
I nod, but I feel troubled as I look at him. This is a real sore point for him, and I hate pushing about it—but it’s the fucking truth. “No, it doesn’t. But it very likely means he or she had help from an insider.”
His jaw works. “I won’t believe that until I have real proof of it.”
“I get that. I’m not trying to piss you off, but I’m kind of the expert on family members doing shit they’re not supposed to. Even if they have a history of bullshit, you never expect them to do something really awful until they fucking do. Like... like finding out my dad creeped on your mom.”
He looks at me, a little embarrassed. “Okay, yeah, I get it. That was probably hard to hear.”
“Yeah, it was. But it was true. I mean... I know you think your family is so much better than mine--”
His eyebrows go up. “I never said anything—”
“You don’t have to. I know what people think about my family. My parents are obnoxious and aggressive. They’ve been driving me up the wall my whole life and embarrassing me on top of it.”
“Doesn’t mean I look down on you,” he corrects a little stiffly.
“Michael,” I say, kindly but firmly. “Thank you, but that’s not my point, okay? I’m saying that betrayal doesn’t just happen in families with bad reputations. If we find something—”
“Let’s just wait and see when and if we find it,” he cuts me off firmly.
I huff in exasperation. We’re back to this, and it’s starting to piss me off. “Okay. But let’s not ignore any evidence.”
“You don’t have evidence. You have a theory that fits the smattering of facts we have so far,” he grumbles in a low, implacable voice that worries and aggravates me at the same time.
“Yes, and it’s a working theory that will change if the facts change. Will your point of view adjust as well?”
He gives me an annoyed look. “I’m not scared of the truth. I just know my family.”
“I really hope they’re all as good as you think they are,” I say, getting increasingly uncomfortable. “I just worry about what happens if one of them turns out to disappoint you.”
“You need to drop this,” he snaps, and I feel my fists clench.
“Drop what? I’m only saying—”
“Yeah, I heard you. It’s still not the only possibility, and it’s less of a possibility than you think. Not every family is full of fucked-up people like yours is!”
Everything stops. It’s like being slapped in the face. I knew I was getting too vulnerable to him, and now, with those words out of his mouth, I’m paying for it.
I stare at him. The look on my face registers, and the anger fades slowly from his expression. Not all of it, but enough to leave room for regret. “Oh, fuck, Arya, I’m sorry—”
“You know what?” I say in a voice that’s breathless with anger and hurt. “If there’s one thing I’m fucking sick of in my life, it’s having to pay for my father’s mistakes. Do you think it’s easy having my mother always taking her anger at him out on me? Or the antiquated rules? Or how little he gives a shit?"
“Yes, fine, I’m from an abusive family, and you’re not. Congratulations.” My eyes are getting blurry from tears, and suddenly, I want to get as far away from him as possible. “That doesn’t make your family perfect, and it sure as fuck doesn’t mean I’m too broken to be right.”
“I didn’t mean it like that—” he starts, but I hold up a hand.
“You said what you fucking said. Now, I need to go get some space and think about things. You go ahead and go through the rest of those records and do whatever you need to do. I’ll pick back up with you when I don’t want to fucking slap you.”
And that’s what I do. I say goodbye as calmly as I can, get my things, and walk away. It is foggy out as I drive away, with no idea where I’m going. Not back to my parents’ place. Somewhere I could think.
Somewhere nobody could hurt me.