AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Goodnight, Zaid.” Her raspy voice, soothes me. With a curt nod, I turn away and head toward the elevator.
I know I shouldn’t take it personally, and I’m really trying not to, but this situation grows more painful by the minute. Every breath I take without pursuing Tori feels labored. All I want is to claim her, to let her know that I will take care of her for the rest of her life and make her happy. She’ll never have to work if she doesn’t want to, and if she does, I’ll help her find the best job the city has to offer.
If only I could convince her that she’s meant to be mine.
I step out onto the city streets. The sun sets west of the Hudson River. My fists clench at my sides, sexual tension coursing through my veins. It’s a short walk home to my condo in the West Village. The minute I hit the door, I strip down fighting the erection torturing me, pressed hard against my cotton boxer briefs.
I throw on my gym clothes and make my way to the building’s workout room. With my headphones blaring heavy metal, I add more weight to the barbell than I’ve ever benched. A long growl explodes from my mouth with each rep. Thoughts of Tori spill from my ears every time the metal bar nears my chest.
When I’m good and pumped up, I replace the barbell and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The veins in my arms bulge. My face, red. Lips curled.
I will not let this woman slip away from me. I’ve waited a long time to make a move with Tori. She’s part of the reason I’ve made so much of myself. She’s all I’ve ever wanted and there’s no way I’m letting her go.
Tori Stephenson was born to be mine. Mine to take, mine to claim, and mine to love…forever.
5
Tori
Dark circles line my eyes, seeping through the three layers of under eye concealer I slapped on this morning. I barely slept. Instead, I stayed up all night working on a mock presentation for Zaid. After I came across an article about a large up and coming bedding company in Brooklyn, Bed Me—Apparently, last spring they rejected The Zarin’s Group’s pitch, and are still seeking a marketing agency to represent them—I knew exactly what I had to do.
My fingers rub against the pink and rose gold faux leather folio—from Target, but looks expensive—holding the various notes and printouts for my impromptu presentation. I’m at the office before Zaid, and a good thing, too. My stomach flutters with nerves at the mere thought of taking this risk. But something tells me that Zaid will see it for what it is, taking initiative more than overstepping boundaries.
I hope?
I settle into my desk and take a long pull from my water bottle. As soon as Zaid walks in, smelling strongly of freshly showered man I burst from my chair. With squared shoulders, I cradle my portfolio. “Got a minute?” I ask.
Zaid nods, narrowing his eyes. It throws me a bit; I’m used to his smile. This is a more serious Zaid. He continues walking down the hall and I follow him to his office. “Close the door,” he says as I shuffle in behind him. I hesitate at first, but do what he says. Have I done something wrong? He’s being so gruff with me.
I refocus my energy and walk straight toward his desk. Before he has a chance to sit, I shove my portfolio in his direction. “What is this?” He takes it, opens it.
“A social media marketing strategy for Bed Me.”
“Tori, we don’t represent Bed Me.”
“I know, Zaid, and forgive me for being so blunt. But if I’d been on your team and presented this, things may have turned out differently.” My heart races like I’m trapped in a tunnel. If fake it until you make it is the motto of the successful, I’m certainlyon the right path. When Zaid opens the portfolio, the thick groove between his eyebrows smoothes itself out. He flips through the pages I worked so hard on, his full lips opening and closing without a word slipping out. After a short lifetime, Zaid closes the portfolio and hands it back to me.
“I’d love your feedback,” I say.
“Tori—”
“Just treat me like anyone else and give it to me straight.” Zaid looks especially buff today. Raw and somewhat unpolished with his hair mussed and his five o’clock shadow.
“You want me to give it to you straight?” He makes his way around the desk. I resist the urge to cower under his thick, hulking frame. Instead, I stand tall. I’m a big girl. I can take it.
“Tori,” his voice is low, sultry. “It’s beyond impressive.”
I finally let out my breath. “Thank you.”
“But I can’t hire you.” Now it’s me who can’t find the words. “Not with how I feel about you.”
“How you feel?” My words are whispers.
He brushes my hair over my shoulder, then wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me close to him. My gasp is muffled by his lips crashing down on mine. Wetness drenches my panties as Zaid presses his hard, thick length up against my body. His tongue parts my lips and I let him taste me while my fingers squeeze his impossibly taught biceps.
When we finally come up for air, he gazes into my eyes. “What are you doing?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
“Taking what’s mine.” His lips brush against mine as he speaks. “I’ve wanted to taste you since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
