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5
Baxter
Calling Heather had been the biggest mistake of my life. I wanted her too much. Or maybe, not calling her again before I left California for good had been the biggest mistake. Either way, Heather was a mistake because being near her opened a pit in my chest, and I had a sinking suspicion the only way to fill it would be to have Heather.
She wasn’t the type of woman to have mindless sex that meant nothing. I can hardly stand myself because I want her enough to sacrifice everything.
Eventually, I lift my head and stare at my reflection. I hate myself for not making her mine years ago and hate myself even more for thinking I could use her for sex this weekend. My cock strains at my zipper and I glance down, wishing away my erection.
Wishing wasn’t going to move us forward, and my parents would expect us to be on the patio on time. I check my phone and see we have ten minutes to get downstairs, dressed and ready to be entertaining. Heather still has to dress. She was supposed to be in here getting dressed, but I’d run from her, taking her spot in the bathroom because I couldn’t stand the heat. Hell, just thinking of her taking off her clothes, her body revealed, makes me harder.
“Double fuck,” I say under my breath. “You’re insane, Baxter. Insane.”
When I open the door, Heather is gone. Fear hits me hard. Has she taken off? Then the door to our room opens, and she steps in.
“I needed water.”
I swallow over my discomfort. How long would she stay with me if she knew how dumb I was? What if I told her I wanted her all those years ago?
“You can use the bathroom to dress. I’ll dress in here and wait for you in the hall.”
She nods and moves to the closet. She picks out a dress that is as unique and beautiful as she is. Her clothes all have a certain theme. In the office, I rarely pay attention to what women wear. As long as what they wear is professional, that’s all that matters. I never mix business and pleasure, ever. Too many men have fallen in that pursuit, and I wasn’t going to get trapped in some stupid lawsuit. My ex had been perfect because she’d been benign. I couldn’t imagine Heather filling the role I’d planned on having Sandra fill. No, Heather would be all up in my business, asking questions in that voice of hers that made my heart sing and my pants tight. She wouldn’t allow me to get away with anything.
The bathroom door closes, and I drop to the bed. The woman inspires pure madness in me. My life was tough because my dad didn’t trust me. I knew, though he didn’t work at my mom’s insistence, he kept up with the office politics and everything I was involved in. People watched over my shoulder, spying on me, delivering information to my dad. I had to be sharp, and with Heather in my life, all I could think about was the length of her neck and how long it would take me to lick from her shoulder to her ear. Her breasts distracted me, and I hadn’t even touched them. The thought of sliding into her, being surrounded by her wet heat, drives me insane.
I jump up, ditch my shirt and pants then pull on a crisp, white shirt and a different pair of black slacks. I grab my new shoes before heading to the hall. Distance from Heather was the best way to deal with this. I wouldn’t let her in. I wouldn’t allow her to get to me. I would keep myself apart from her, and she would have no hold over me. She would be gone in a week anyway, so I only had to keep this up for a few days.
The bedroom door opens, and she steps out. My gut clenches. The words I’d told myself seconds before, the admonishments I’d given, they were all for naught. She is my kryptonite, and I have no choice in the matter. I’m hooked, no question.
“Are you ready?” Heather asks.
“Yes, let’s head down.”
Immediately the negotiations start in my head. I could have her, and maybe she would be like my ex. She wouldn’t interfere. I could manage this. I was a Baxter-Scott, and my family had endured for generations. Lesser men than me had come before me and not fallen. I would be tough as steel, entering this with that knowledge would give me strength. I wouldn’t cave.
The moment we step onto the patio, my mom rolls her eyes. It pisses me off. I stop and put my arm around Heather, turning so I could kiss her. My lips brush against hers in what was supposed to be a simple kiss. My response is anything but simple. My lungs burn for air as my head spins. This woman is as intoxicating as I’d thought she would be.
Heather pulls away, her gaze searching mine. Confusion clouds her features. I hate myself for using her. She was too special to be thrust into this position.
“Well, if it isn’t the lovebirds,” Lucinda calls out.
I turn and see my mother is staring out at the tennis courts below. Heather moves away from me, not even looking back once. In my parents’ eyes I may have established Heather as mine, but at what cost?
Dinner was as uncomfortable as I’d imagined it would be. My mother made snipes at Heather that may sound like compliments to the innocent, but I heard them for the digs they were. My father’s sneer stays in place through dinner and deepens when he turns to face me. William and Alisha kept up the chatter. Heather barely looked my way.
When it is all over, I’m thankful we escape fairly unscathed…until we enter the bedroom we’re sharing. The covers are turned down, which makes Heather’s spine stiffen when she points it out. She goes to the bathroom, and I open the drawer where David usually puts my pajamas. Of course, I hadn’t slept in anything more than my birthday suit in years, but for Heather, I would wear the nightshirt and pants I’d brought with me.
We switch places, me in the bathroom, Heather in this room. The air between us is stiff. I check my email and get lost in thoughts about work, forgetting Heather is here. Once I finish brushing my teeth and open the door, shock hits me straight in the chest.
Heather is turned so I can see she’s holding up a skimpy pink piece of lace that probably wouldn’t cover her breasts fully. She glances my way while still holding up the lace thing I would love to see on her. Panic flashes in her eyes and she moves fast, pushing the lace behind her. She drops it, probably trying to put it in the drawer that is open behind her, but the lace confection falls to the floor.
In two steps, I’m beside her. I dip low, scooping up the pink lace. Her cheeks are darker, her eyes wild. I want to see her in this. My cock is screaming at me, and I’m listening. I hold up the lace thing by the straps and look at it then my gaze falls on her.
We say nothing. The silence stretches on, and I’m about to admit defeat and head to the bathroom to jerk off when she reaches up. For a second I think she’s going to rip the lace from my hands and yell at me, but she doesn’t. She touches my arm so softly I have to look at her hand to see if she’s truly connected to me. Her fingers trail from my wrist to my elbow. The slow speed of her movements is killing me, but I let her lead.
Her fingers play over my shoulder then down to my chest. I drop my hands and draw in a deep breath as she pops the top button of my shirt. Her gaze flicks to mine as a moan escapes my lips.
Her tongue slips out and slides over her upper lip. I take it as an invitation and lean in but hesitate because I want her to make the next move. Seconds tick past, and I worry that she won’t close the distance. Then her mouth is on mine, and I abandon all restraint. I pick her up and set her on the dresser as I push her dress up. My fingers search for her panties, but I find none.
