Chapter 46
The Question of Trust
A tightness in my chest grows with every step she takes away from me. I hate the feeling sprouting inside of me like a weed, tangling around my heart like a vine, almost as much as I hate Amara walking away from me.
Tonight might not have gone like expected, but I am not the kind of man to admit defeat.
I plan. I act. I conquer.
Amara might have rejected my first offer, but I will rise to the challenge and prove just how good things can be between us if she were to give me a chance.
Our marriage might be fake, but these feelings burning inside me are anything but. It’s only a matter of time before I make her mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
The car isn’t even parked before Amara escapes the garage.
Harrison opens my door with his lips pressed together.
“How long have you been married for?” I exit the car and button my jacket.
His head rears back like I have never spoken to him before. We might not be confidants, but he has been my driver since before I ever had a license. Of course I interact with him. He even has my personal number strictly for coordination purposes.
“Forty years and counting.” He smiles to himself as if the idea pleases him.
“Willingly?”
As opposed to what? A contractual agreement like yours?
He laughs. “She might say no if you asked her.”
My head tilts. “Why?”
He looks at me as if he’s questioning my IQ. “Because marriage is hard, and apparently I’m not the easiest person to get along with. Plus, I snore.”
A laugh gets trapped in my throat. “Makes sense.” I turn toward the door, but Harrison’s words stop me.
“Mind if I offer you some advice?”
I sigh and look over at him. “Only if you feel that it’s absolutely crucial.”
His eyes wrinkle at the corners as his lips turn up into a small smile. “You might have gone about all the steps in the wrong order, but that doesn’t mean you can’t restart from the beginning and try again.”
The back of my neck prickles like tiny needles driving into my skin. “You know.”
“Of course I know. I’ve been driving you around since before you could reach the pedals. If you owe me anything, it’s to not insult my intelligence like that.”
“You signed an NDA.”
He gives his head a shake. “I’m not interested in selling your story. If I was, I would have taken the money your father offered me and retired with Gerty on a sandy beach in Mexico.”
My mask of indifference slips. “He wanted to pay you?”
“That’s not the point.”
“How much?” I tuck my clenched fists into my pocket.
He shuts the back door. “Also not the point.”
“Why wouldn’t you accept his deal?”
“Because I wasn’t about to give you one more reason to hate the world.”
“You should have taken the money because nothing you could ever do would change my opinion about humanity. I can guarantee it.”
“Probably not, but there is one person who might.”
My body goes rigid underneath my suit. “Not possible.”
He releases a deep belly laugh.
“Am I missing something amusing about this conversation?”
He wipes his eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s comforting knowing that the smartest man I’ve ever met is an idiot like the rest of us when it comes to women.”
My brows tug together. “Do you even care about keeping your job anymore?”
“You could try to fire me but we both know Amara would hire me back first thing tomorrow morning.”
I glare at him, which only makes him smile.
“I was only trying to offer you some advice because something told me you might need it. But I see that isn’t the case, so have a good night, sir.” He tips his hat and turns back toward the car.
“Harrison,” I call out before I can stop myself. Since I already embarrassed myself, I might as well take advantage of his advice.
He pauses. “Yes, Mr. Sterling?”
I must be having some kind of mental crisis because nothing else explains what I do next.
“What would you do if you’re attracted to a woman who wants nothing to do with you?”
He laughs in a way that makes me feel like I’m missing the second half of a joke. “Mrs. Sterling can say what she wants, but she’s interested in you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”
“With or without corrective lenses?”
He taps his thick-rimmed specks. “The bifocals don’t lie.”
“Regardless of what you’ve seen, she claims otherwise.”
“Oh, I’m sure she does. But that’s where you come in.”
“And do what exactly?”
His frail lips break out into a genuine smile. “You chase.”
Harrison’s words linger at the forefront of my mind as I walk up to my bedroom. I have spent my entire life chasing after anything I want, so while the concept isn’t anything ground-breaking, my desire to do so with Amara is new.
Bullshit. You’ve always been interested in her.
Except my thoughts never went past just that. Interest. Pursuing Amara was never an option before, but there is no way I can continue on the same trajectory. I will drive myself mad fighting the urges threatening to consume me whenever she enters the room. Lately, I seem to be driven by the burning sensation in my gut.
I rip off my tie and dump it on my dresser before making quick work of my button-down. I chuck it in a corner of my bathroom, along with my pants.
I hoped a shower would calm me down, but I was wrong.
My mind wanders, making up an entirely different scenario of what could have happened after our date if Amara was willing to take me up on my offer. To me cornering her and kissing her until she loses the ability to do anything but drag me toward my room.
I try to avoid touching myself. My hand is nothing but a temporary fix for a lifelong problem. One that has plagued me for years, never quite scratching the itch I crave.
My cock lengthens as I imagine Amara exploring all of me with her hands. Of how she would be greedy with my body, raking her nails across my flesh.
I grab my hardened cock with my right hand. I promise myself this is the last time I’ll use my hand, but I know it’s a lie. A hiss escapes me as I pump it once before rubbing the bead of arousal at the tip. My mind conjures up a series of sounds Amara might make when my hands grip her hips. A moan when my tongue strokes against hers. The sharp hiss as I scrape the hollow of her neck with my teeth. Her breathy groan when my fingers embed themselves into her ass like I could brand her skin with the marks of my fingertips.
My hand grips my cock like a vise, each angry tug sending a shot of heat down my spine. It’s easy to fantasize about what could happen between us if I push her to accept her new reality. How Amara would beg me to take her right then and there like a mindless animal.
I picture her touch turning desperate as I memorize her body with my lips. Of her returning the favor, learning every dip and curve of me with the tip of her tongue. My arousal leaks from the tip as I consider her nails digging into my skin with each thrust of my cock. I’d wear her tiny half-moon marks like a proud battle scar, knowing what I did to earn them.
Heat spreads through my veins that has nothing to do with the hot water streaming down my body. I slap my other palm against the tile, trying to support my weight as my legs tremble. The burning sensation becomes unbearable as my yanks become sloppier.
The bedroom fantasy shifts to her catching me in the shower, touching myself like this. Her hand would replace mine as she looks up at me with her big brown eyes. The way she might hesitate as she grips me, learning how to please me the way I like.
Only a taste, she would whisper before getting down on her knees and taking me in her mouth.
It wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge. A few slow licks up my shaft. The hollowing of her cheeks as she sucks on my cock until she chokes. Her moan as I grip onto the back of her head and shove myself down her throat, making her scratch at my thighs for reprieve.
The illusion is shattered as my release hits me. Spots darken my vision, and hot cum shoots out. It splashes against the tile before being washed down the drain. I jerk my cock, taking my anger out on the softening shaft.
My breathing is ragged by the time I’m done. I lay my head against the tile and curse to myself, knowing damn well I will never be satisfied until Amara is mine.
Not even close.