“What are you watching?” he asks, his attention on the TV.
“Oh, um… I’m not sure what this is,” I say, grateful the movie I was watching is over. I don’t need him knowing I am sitting here, indulging in sappy love movies.
He sits beside me, and I don’t even feel the couch dip as he does, thanks to how soft it is. He leans back, owning the place as if we’re at his and not mine. Though, it may as well be—he owns it, and I’m not paying rent.
“Thank you for all of this,” I say quietly.
“There’s no need to thank me.”
“I guess…” I turn to face him, leaning my back against the tall arm of the chair. “I guess I just don’t understand why you’re doing it.”
“Does that matter?” he asks.
Does it? I don’t know.
“Your intentions matter to me.” And I guess that’s the truth.
He frowns, staying quiet for a moment before saying, “If you think I expect something in return for this, something that isn’t you working for me, then you’re wrong. I’m not that kind of man.”
His words from the bar the other night would suggest otherwise… but I don’t say that.
“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”
“Taking advantage of people isn’t how I do things, Miss Sinclair. Yes, I am a businessman, and yes, I use many means to get what I want, but you are a young woman lost in a big, cruel world. I merely want to help.”
“But why?” I urge, hating that my eyes are stinging with tears.
He holds my gaze, his hands sliding over his thighs, bringing my attention to them. Thick, strong. And my attention glides to the area between his legs, where his pants hug his cock andballs. I see the outline of everything and my god, that’s making me feel things I shouldn’t. Remembering how he felt in my hand, thickening and pulsing as he released all over his stomach. The guttural sounds that left him as he gave in to pleasure. The desperation in his eyes as he begged me to move my hand faster…
I clear my throat and flick my gaze back to his. If he notices me staring at his genitals, he doesn’t say anything.
“If I knew, I would tell you.”
“There has to be a reason. Something youdoknow. You don’t do this for everyone off the street. Why me?”
I want to know. I need to know that whatever this is I feel toward him isn’t one sided, that he feels this connection too, and that he understands that it doesn’t make any sense. He’s hinted towards it, but I need to hear him say it. I need the words.
"I can’t explain it, not in a way that makes sense. But from the moment I saw you, something inside me just... clicked. There’s something about you that pulls me in, makes me want to be near you,” he says, licking his lips. His gaze holds mine steadily. “Make you happy, see that breathtaking smile of yours.”
So, I’m not crazy. It is there. He does feel this, too. And it doesn’t make sense.
“What are we supposed to do about that?” I respond breathlessly.
His nails subtly dig into his thighs, and it’s the only indication he’s feelingsomething.
“Whatever you want, Seraphine,” he rasps out, sounding almost pained.
My body leans toward him, and I swear I’m not doing it. I’m not making myself move closer to him, but it’s happening. And I think he’s moving toward me too, but I can’t be sure. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.
Then my phone rings from the other room, startling me and I jerk away, jumping to my feet. I rush into the kitchen to pick it up, only to get some space between us.
Harrison’s name scrolls across my phone screen, which I would have known if I weren’t a mess from his father being so close to me. This ringtone has not only been playing for days, but it’s been the same since we started dating. I press the button to send it to voicemail where he’ll add to all the others he’s left that I haven’t listened to.
When I put the phone back down, I catch Mr. Caldwell moving toward the coat rack and grabbing his tie and jacket.
“I should go.”
“Yeah,” I agree, knowing he should but not wanting him to. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to stay, not wanting to go back to the emptiness of this place. Not wanting his presence gone…
