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Chapter Twenty-Three
During the following three weeks we talked and talked until I convinced Tricia I couldn’t care less if I didn’t have a child. It was an unfortunate by-product of loving her, but not something I’d ever envisioned losing sleep over. When she accepted I was telling the truth, she appeared relieved she had shared her secret with me.
Knowing what had happened certainly explained a lot about her behavior and had gone some way to explain why I’d observed her giving a lot of time to Remy, but very little to Brynn.
“Little girls make me feel the pain,” she explained one night, when I asked her directly why she became impatient with Brynn. “As soon as I hug her my heart breaks. How do I show affection to someone else’s daughter when I deprived my own of the same?”
She went on to tell me the baby had dark blonde hair and hazel eyes, and when she looked at Brynn, she always imagined how her daughter might have looked at the same age.
“Every time I hug her, I feel like I’m going to cry, and if I do people will want to know why.”
Her answer felt a little irrational to me, but I wasn’t inside her head and only Tricia had walked her walk, so I never tried to reason it out. It was a hang-up borne from a terrible event that had taken place when she’d been a kid herself. I got that, and the more she disclosed the less willing I felt about leaving her at home alone.
The result of this was that from the time she told me about her ordeal I’d elected to stay at her place, leaving early and commuting home to dress for work, doing my job, before heading back to New Jersey each night.
However, there were times when I simply couldn’t make it to New Jersey when deadlines had to be met and emergency breakfast meetings where scheduled for the weekend. That had been the reason I had sold my house in New Jersey in the first place.
After our first three consecutive nights apart where I’d stayed in the city, Tricia visited me in my office. Fortunately, it was during lunchtime, so I told my personal assistant to hold my calls and locked my office door for privacy. We had learned not to take our moments alone for granted.
“I thought I may stay here Monday through Wednesday, skip down to New Jersey Thursdays to sign contracts, and you could come down Fridays. This way we spend part of the week in each place, but almost all week together. What do you think?” she asked.
“I think I’m delighted. What’s brought this on?”
“Three nights away in one week. That, and I hate sleeping alone now I have you in my bed.”
Tilting my head from side to side, I pretended to consider her proposal when she stood, unzipped her dress at the side, and let it slide to the floor.
“Do you want me to beg?” she teased, dipping her chin to her chest and eyeing me through her lashes. Although she was kidding, it was such a seductive move I was hard in an instant.
“Hmm, let me see,” I replied, wandering closer to her until we were toe-to-toe. I drew the back of my fingers delicately down her breastbone and over the center of her torso. Her breath immediately hitched, and her body trembled slightly under my touch. Leaning forward I blew on her breasts and her nipples immediately pebbled.
“Beg, you say? Begging’s always a solid opener in negotiations,” I whispered, cradling my free hand behind her head. “Why don’t we just cut all that toing and froing shit out, and you come live with me? We could rent your place out until we can decide where to live.”
Tricia’s bright eyes rose to her hairline in thought. “Move in?” she asked and stepped away, picking up her dress. Panic began to rise in my chest until I saw her smile, pull on the dress, and wander back into my space. “I think if you want me to answer that you should be the one to strip.” I began to chuckle until her hand slid over my belt buckle. “Am I amusing you, Mr. Wild?” she asked, undoing my pants and letting them fall to the floor. “Or weren’t you serious about asking me to live with you?”
“As serious as gonorrhoea,” I muttered, leaning forward to kiss her. Tricia’s head whipped back, and she stared pointedly into my eyes, her nose scrunched up in distaste.
“Maybe you could find a more attractive simile?” she replied, straight-faced, but a smirk quirked at her lips.
“Hm, you think?” I teased, as I dipped my knees and drew my fingers lightly up her bare leg. She shuddered and I grinned. “Baby, you’re so responsive. You’re coming to live with me in New York,” I confirmed. “You can either agree now or after I’ve been balls deep in that little deliciously wet pussy I know I’ll find if my hands slip under the lace of these panties,” I whispered, peppering her neck with small kisses and smiling when her flesh broke out in goosebumps.
“I’m waiting,” she muttered, but her shaky breathing and how her voice trembled gave away her true feelings.
“For?” I whispered again, my hand trailing between her upper thighs until my fingers teased her clit through the thin material.
“Oh,” she gasped breathily, her shoulders lurching forward and resting on mine.
“So that’s a yes?” I asked, pretending to clarify our living arrangements.
“We’re nearly there, this feels better than your gonorrhoea opening bid,” she mumbled, sounding slightly distracted by my hand between her legs.
“Do we have an agreement?” I teased, leaned in and kissed her soft lips.
“God, man, I love what you do to me,” she whispered, her hand sliding under my belt. Her fingers brushed my cock, which had escaped from the top of my boxers, and she broke the kiss, widened her eyes at me, and grinned.
“I’d do a hell of a lot more, but you haven’t answered me,” I reminded her, teasing her clit half-heartedly again to keep her focus on our conversation.
“Where do I sign?” she asked, chuckling as she freed her hand, slapped them both on my chest, and pushed me back toward my office couch.
