Loveless (6 page)

I almost fly off his lap. “
What
?”

His arms fall away from me. “I’m serious. You can’t fuck someone else at the same time you’re fucking me. I won’t accept it.”

Flight on
. The entire force of the planet’s gravitational pull couldn’t keep me on his lap. I jump off him so fast that I nearly trip. “
Are you serious right now
?” Pulling down my skirt, I struggle to steady my weak legs. “I offer you my freaking
virginity
and you think I’ll screw around with someone else at the same time?” The top buttons of my shirt are gone, and I can’t completely cover myself.

Thank God I have a blazer in my office.

Stupid barbarian. He’s lucky I don’t find one of those buttons and shove it right down his stupid throat.

Elijah jumps to his feet, adjusting his pants.

I catch a glimpse of his
soaked
gray boxers.

“Some girls do screw around like that.”

Has he lost his mind? “What the hell do you think? That I’m planning on losing my virginity to
two
guys at the same freaking time?”

He reaches for his zipper. “Damn it, woman. No—” His head drops to stare at his wet boxers.

“Go to hell.” I spin on one heel, leaving the lounge room.

On my way out, I can almost swear I hear him murmuring, “Jesus. Made me come like a goddamn faucet.”

Imbecile. How could he ruin the moment like that? He had me so utterly blissed out.

Stupid, irresistible, delicious, infuriating jerk!

Elijah catches up with me in my office, just as I slip on my blazer.

“Leave me alone.” I button the blazer and reach for my suitcase.

“Stop. Hear me out.”

“Get out of my way.”

He holds his hands up, blocking my way out. “Listen to me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“
I’m sorry
.”

His tone and expression give me pause.

Elijah steps up to me, grabbing my arms gently. “I’m sorry I insulted you.”

I duck my head, refusing to look into his eyes, not quite ready to let my anger go yet.

“Hey. No. Look at me.” When he cups my chin and raises my head, I don’t resist him. “I’m really sorry, okay? It’s just that I saw Zach flirting with you—”

I jerk my face out of his grasp. “Elijah, I’m going to hit you.”

“Can you please hear me out? I’m sorry I assumed you would be open to messing around with Zach, but this had to be discussed anyway.”

“You have a lot of nerve, you know that? Trying to dictate all this while you’re the biggest manwhore I know!”

His head jerks back, eyes flashing.

Oh, the baby doesn’t like being called a manwhore? Tough luck! Maybe he shouldn’t be such a whore to begin with then!

“I might sleep with a lot of women,” he says slowly. “But never with two at the same time. While it’s me and you, Paige, it’s
me
and
you
. Feel me?”

My thoughts scramble, and I can only stare at him for a few seconds. “Why?” I finally ask.

“Why what?”

“Why are you okay with sleeping with a new woman all the time, but never two at the same?”

“Diseases,” he grits out.

I blink at him. “Come again?”

“Diseases, Paige. STDs. They’re more common than people think. And even though some are curable, some of them are not.”

“And you’re . . . afraid of getting one?”

Jaw clenched, he gives me a brusque nod.

“But . . . with all the women I heard you sleep with, how do you avoid getting them?”

“Condoms. And I avoid doing certain things and letting them do certain things to me.”

So . . . he’s inhibited with his sexual partners? I can’t picture a man as sexual as he seems having to control himself that way. “But you said you wanted to. . .”

“Go bare with you?”

Blushing, I nod. Are we really having this conversation?

“I do, and I want to do other things with you.” He licks his lips and runs the back of his hand across his mouth.

He doesn’t have to explain. My mind once again does a very good job of filling in the blanks.

“Yeah. So that’s why it had to be discussed.”

It’s a good thing he is cautious about things like that. Still . . . “You could’ve been less of a dick about it.”

He laughs at that, his wide smile transforming his face entirely, making him seem almost boyish.

For some reason, my breath catches in my throat.

“My bad. I jumped to conclusions.”

And gotten ridiculously pissed off at those conclusions, but I don’t point that out. “Fine. Just ask next time. Don’t turn into an asshole.”

“Deal.”

I don’t know why, but suddenly I’m awkward in front of him. “I have to go.”

“Me too. Gotta go change. Some hot little thing made me explode all over my pants.”

My cheeks flame hot; I didn’t imagine what he said when I walked out of the lounge room. “Did I really?”

“Oh yeah. Wanna feel?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

Biting my lip, I fight back a smile and shake my head. “No thank you.” I might end up pushing for a repeat if I get a feel of that. “Was that really you’re first time doing that . . . in a long time?”

“Now that I think about it, it might have been my first time ever. I can’t really remember ever coming from dry-fucking before.”

I’m not beaming with pride at that. Not at all.

“Was that really your first time coming?” He watches me with that soft expression.

Shy, I give him another nod.

“Come here.”

Unable to deny that low command, I walk up to him.

He grabs me, laying a kiss on my lips. “Can’t wait to make you come again,” he breaths, giving me one more kiss.

“Okay. When?”

God, that smile of his.

Why is my heart twisting in my chest?

“Soon. We’ll work something out even though things are about to get hectic. Promise.”

“ ‘K”.

We say our goodnights, and I leave first. I make it all the way into the elevator before a huge, excited smile breaks free.

Orgasms are insane! Amazing. Almost spiritual. How dare I deny that to myself for so long?

I can’t wait to tell Lana. And I’m totally giving in and going with my cousin to buy a vibrator. I can’t picture living without one now.

eight

Elijah

“Elijah, honey. Honestly. I want grandchildren one day.”

Shit. Here we go again.
Maybe if I ignore my mother long enough, she’ll move on and leave the subject alone.

It hasn’t worked the other times I tried it, but hey, maybe the millionth time will be the charm.

“How dare you mess with Samantha’s dreams like this, Eli?” Sophie cuts into her omelet, tiny shit-eating grin aimed right at me. “Don’t you care about her feelings?”

Thankfully, my mother’s busy cutting into her own omelet, so she doesn’t see me giving Sophie the finger.

“See?” My mother raises her orange juice to her lips, her movements as delicate and graceful as always. “Sophia understands. What is the problem? It’s about time you settled down and started a family.”

I take a few moments to breathe and muzzle the frustration this conversation always causes. As refined as my mother is, she’s already proven she has no qualms about slapping me over the head with the nearest object if need be. “Mom, I’m twenty-seven.”

“Almost twenty-eight!”

“Precisely. Way too young to shackle myself with that kind of burden.”

“Children are a blessing, Eli. Not a burden.”

Mom is right. It’s the child’s mother I’m worried about.

I drink my coffee. It’s not Starbucks, and yet one taste sends my mind reeling back, instantly reminding me of Paige.

The wonder on her face when she first started coming, breathless moans leaving her parted lips . . . she soaked my dick right through my boxers with her orgasm. The hottest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced. To make a girl come that hard?
Jesus
.

It was the feel of her, how wet I made her, combined with the scent of all that strawberry blond hair that threw me right over the edge.

And, holy fuck, she made me come so hard my toes had freaking curled in my shoes.

Her tits are beautiful, the perfect D-cups, with dark pink nipples, and her pussy? Lord in Heaven, she waxed for me. I’ve never seen a cunt as cute as hers. And it
is
fucking adorable. Soft, pink, her lips surrounding that juicy, little clit.

I barely hold back a shiver at the memory of how those pussy lips looked hugging my still-covered cock.

My mother heaves in a deep, disappointed sigh, and the sound is enough to slap me right out of my sexual haze.

Sophie’s watching me, dark blue eyes twinkling.

Fuck. I know that look.

“Elijah, what is the problem with actually trying to take a woman seriously?” Mom asks, her hazel eyes shining with the same disappointment I hear in her tone. “Joan happened eleven years ago.”

“And you clearly remember how fucked-up it was,” I grit out, annoyed that she’d bring it up, in the middle of a restaurant no less.

Mom was the one that went with me to the doctor when the pain became too much and I could no longer afford to deny my suspicions. She sat with me, holding my hand although I’d been seventeen and considered myself too old for shit like that.

I still remember her loud gasp when the doctor told us the test results.

Gonorrhea. Caught early enough to treat quickly and cure me without any lasting damage.

Joan, the girl I’d been struck-stupid in love with, had cheated on me. And that isn’t the worst part. It’s with who.

Brody, one of my boys at the time, had been diagnosed with Gonorrhea the month before.

Joan cheated on me with one of my closest friends, and brought his filthy illness back to me.

A waiter comes up to us to see how everything is going. The tension at the table must be palpable because he pauses, blinking awkwardly at all of us.

Mom snaps into grace-mode instantly, letting the waiter know everything is “perfectly alright”.

She turns back to me once the waiter leaves. “Explain to me how messing around with different girls on a constant basis keeps you safe.” The yearning to understand me shines in her eyes, tugging at something in my chest.

Damn Sophie for letting my mother in on how I spend most of my nights.

“I’m careful, Mom.
Very
careful.”

“And, most importantly,” Sophie pipes in. “It keeps him from doing something ‘as utterly stupid as falling in love again’.”

That little traitor. Quoting my own lines to my mother of all people.

“I hope you know,” I tell her, “That I no longer consider you my best friend. It’s over.”

Sophie scoffs and waves me off. “Filthy lies.”

Mom sighs again, bringing my attention back to her. At fifty, she still looks spectacular, with barely any wrinkles in sight. Which is what having money and taking care of yourself will do for a person. If she has any gray streaking through her brown hair, she certainly never lets it show, either.

But at the moment, while she stares at me with such a sad, pleading look, I can see how weary she is. How the years, and all the losses, have taken their toll.

My older brother died when I was one. Ethan had been only three.

Six months later, my father died in a car crash, leaving Mom and I on our own. Sure, our family on both sides pretend to be there for us, but we aren’t really close. Especially after we left New York for Boston.

Mom aches for a family, and I’m the only one that can give it to her.

Problem with that whole little theory? I don’t know how.

“Can you please promise me you’ll think about it?”

I nod at my mother, just to end the conversation. What she doesn’t know is that every day, at least once a day, I try to consider it.
Really
consider it.

Every day, I fail.

Married women come onto me on a daily basis. Women with boyfriends, lovers, doesn’t matter. And I’m not going to even touch how many guys I know cheat on their girls non-stop.

People claim to ache for love and all that bullshit, but it’s nothing more than a game to them. I’m  in no way eager to jump into that emotional cesspool of lies.

Once we finish our breakfast, we stand outside the restaurant. Mom hugs Sophie first, then pulls me in for a long one.

“Try to behave while I’m not around.”

“You’ll have better luck asking him to stop breathing, Samantha,” Sophie pipes in.

I roll my eyes skyward. “Mother, I’m a grown man.”

Mom pinches my cheeks in plain view of everyone on the street. Fuck my life. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to ask you to behave.”

Sophie laughs. “Yeah, Eli. Listen to mommy. Be a good boy for once.”

That earns her the finger again.

This time, my mother sees, and she gasps, slapping my hand. “Don’t be crass.”

After we say our goodbyes, I find myself walking down the block with Sophie.
Stuck
with her since I agreed to go rock-climbing with her again.

Immediately, she starts in on me, not even letting me a catch a freaking break. “Your mom has a point, you know.”

I wonder if it would be considered wrong to pull her blond hair out by the roots. Hey, it was somewhat acceptable back when we were four.

Fine, lies, I got my ass whooped by my mom, but it’d been so worth it.

“Sophie, no offense, but I can’t honestly take advice on love from you. You’re the other woman, for God’s sake.”

A fucked up, harsh comment, yes, but true nonetheless.

“Not anymore.”

Those words make me stop. “Wait. What?”

Sophie shrugs one shoulder, looking young and vulnerable, but worse of all,
hurt
.

How many times have I wanted to hunt that motherfucker stringing her along down and
destroy
him?

Except that, as Sophie pointed out more than once, she had full disclosure from the guy, had known he had a girlfriend, and she made the decision to be with him regardless.

Sadly, my own best friend had been fueling my distrust of women the last year. Something I informed her of, too.

“Remember what you told me a few weeks ago?”

I nod, knowing we’re thinking about the same thing.

“It hurt, but I realized you were right. Someone that truly loves me is going to pick me and only me.”

The sadness in her eyes guts me. It truly does. Sighing, I open my arms for her. “Hug. Now.” She steps into me and I wrap my arms around her, laying my chin on her head. “Does this mean I have the go on my whole ‘end the bastards’ life plan?”

Sophie giggles into my chest. “Let it go, BFF. I’m the one that made all the dumb decisions.”

“Yeah, but it’s still my right as your best friend, slash almost adoptive brother, to lay that fucker out.”

One hand to my chest, she pushes me away, still shaking her head. “Nope. Especially since you’re not willing to bargain.” We resume walking down the street.

When you know someone as long as I’ve known Sophie—AKA: all our damned lives—your gut becomes synced with that person, recognizing all their little tells, no matter how minute.

My gut hits full whirlpool cycle, and I pretty much already know where this is going before I even open my mouth to ask, “What?”

Ugh.
That calculating little gleam.

“Admit that you
are
seeing someone, and I’ll give you Martin’s address. I’ll even recruit someone to serve as your alibi on whatever night you decide to visit.”

The woman doesn’t play fair. She really doesn’t.

Sometimes it feels like having a female best friend is way more trouble than it’s worth.

And by sometimes, I mean every damn day.

I don’t want Sophie to know about Paige and our arrangement. She’ll read more into it than is there, push and prod until I’m ready to kill her.

But the perceptive little gremlin has already picked up on the fact that something is up, and she won’t let it rest ‘till I give her something.

Sighing, and feeling like I’m seconds away from committing actual suicide, I run a hand down my face. “I’m not
seeing
her. Not in that sense.”

Her squeal is loud enough to be heard up and down the block. “Knew it!” Bouncing up and down, she fist-pumps the air, making a freaking spectacle out of herself.

I grab her arm before it gets stuck in the air. With the way she’s holding it up, one would think the woman just won an Olympic medal. “Stop that. It’s just sex.”

“Yeah, but . . . it’s not a one-night stand, is it?”

“Obviously,” I admit. My gut switches to reverse spin, warning me of what she’s going to do before she does it. Which is truly pathetic.

“Yes!” Sophie hisses, fist-pumping one more time. “Progress.”

Clearly, the woman and I have been friends for way too long. “Shut the fuck up.”

Of course, she does no such thing. “How long has this fuck-buddies thing been going on?”

Giving her any more info is at the very top of my list of things I don’t want to do. Right above “falling in love”. But she has that maniacal, obsessed look in her eyes.

Like a dog with rabies determined to chew right through my leg.

She kicks my shin out of nowhere.

“
Ow
! What the hell?”

Her finger lands on the tip of my nose, all menacing and shit. “If you were comparing me to a dog in your head again, I will kill you.”

I’ve definitely known the woman way longer than I ever should have.

One more warning glare is shot my way, then that obsession returns. “So?”

Like the pathetic fuck I am when it comes to her, I once again give in. “A week.” The answer reminds me of last Friday, then Monday. Aw, hell, I haven’t gotten another taste of Paige since Monday night.

Our schedules have been crazy during the day. No time for actual lunches. Nick and Gilliane have been staying late every night as well, so no way for me to sneak in a touch without worrying about us getting caught.

Not that I haven’t thought about it. I have. A lot. My plotting was detailed and precise. All for nothing, though, because I haven’t had a chance to put any of my plans into action.

I tried seeing Paige last night and text her. The response I got was unexpected, to say the least.

A multimedia message came through, and my excitement shot right through the roof. I have no idea why I thought I was getting a sexy picture from her.

Okay, more like hoped. Really freaking hard.

Fine, fine. I might have prayed for it, actually.

Instead, a picture of a young boy, probably no older than eight, came through, with the message:
Sry, bro. Auntie Paige is all mine 4 the nite.

I laughed at that. The kid was wearing a gigantic pair of gaming headphones on his head and a cocky expression that actually sparked admiration in me. The resemblance to Paige is undeniable. Same hair color. Same eye color.