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Her lips tremble slightly. “How could I forget? She just wanted to dig her heels in. Pretend like she was a good person in front of everyone. She just wanted to control me like everybody else, and she got her way.”
“Believe me when I say I’m truly sorry.” I mean every fucking word and wish I could turn back time. “It’s one of the things I regret the most.”
She looks at me like I’m a complete stranger to her, and in a lot of ways I guess I am. “What about last night?” she challenges. “Do you regret that too?”
I have the decency to look away, busying myself with my napkin. “I think it’s best if we never talk about that again, don’t you?” I look up when she doesn’t answer.
When I have her attention, she smirks. “I don’t know. It was the most attention I’ve had from you in years.”
“You still think this is funny?”
She takes another leisurely sip of her champagne, in no hurry to answer me. “It is pretty funny when you think about it. What are we going to do? Lie and say it didn’t feel good?”
My throat thickens. My heart races.
She can’t do this to me.
I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t attracted to her. That her body was physically impossible for me to stay away from. Her beautiful lips, wrapped around my cock, is still the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. Yet I have to sit here and pretend that I’m not affected by her.
That if she wasn’t Charlize Prescott — the one woman I can’t have —I would’ve had my way with her over and over and over again.
My cock aches in my pants and I’m disgusted with myself. This surely isn’t normal.
So, I decide to talk to her like an adult. She is one, after all. “I never said it didn’t feel good, Charlize. But given the circumstances, we can’t continue.” Does she want to continue?
As if hearing my thoughts, she answers, “Why not?”
I wet my lips, unable to take the dryness any longer. “Aside from the obvious?”
“Let’s just say that I’m not Charlize Prescott, and you’re not Alistair Devereaux, what then?”
“You’re playing with fire, and you know it.”
“Answer the question.”
“You always did know how to push my buttons, Charlize.”
“My friends call me Charli, just so you know.”
“We’re not friends.”
She furrows her brow. “No? What are we exactly? Since you don’t like me calling you Daddy.”
Every time she says that fucking word… I want to take her over my lap and spank her ass.
The thought arouses me; my heart thudding in my chest as I try to remain calm by taking deep breaths.
I crack my neck, hoping I’ll get through this damn dinner and back to the world that I know. The one where I rule and nobody gets a look in. The walls I’ve built are so high up that nobody dares try to get over them. And I like it that way. I didn’t become this monster overnight.
And now that I’m fantasising about her, I’m sure as shit going to hell.
“I swear to God, Charlize.”
“You wanted it as much as I did,” she says. “Admit it.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I admit nothing.”
“Because you’re a coward, Alistair?”
