Waiting For Me (Beautiful Surrender #2)(7)
Author: Ava Claire

I remembered the slinky red number that clung to every curve, the coy little smile on her lips. She’d sought me out, f**ked me with her dark brown eyes. That night I had her in the bathroom, wrists bound with my tie as I f**ked her until she couldn’t walk straight. That memory should have made me hard as a rock, but time and drama drained all pleasure from every tryst we’d ever shared.

“What we had was purely physical—”

“But you were photographed out,” Melissa insisted, still tracing that damn circle. It was as if she was trying to convince herself that she was right about me. Conveniently not looking into my eyes to maintain her grip on her confirmation bias. “You were clearly more than just f**k buddies.”

“Because some tabloid said so? Please,” I scoffed. “It’s in their best interest to sell their product, scoops on the famous. And who wouldn’t buy an ‘exclusive’ on the billionaire and the A-list actress?”

She stopped her rotation. “So you two just hooked up.”

“That’s right,” I nodded, even though she’d never know it since she’d turned her attention back to the water. I followed the line of her jaw, the stubborn set of it unyielding. “Lunch, dinner, drinks–all of the above can be enjoyed by friends, despite popular opinion.”

“But you’re not friends anymore.”

“Correct,” I said bluntly. “Our arrangement suited both parties just fine until she asked for more. I distanced myself and that’s when I discovered letting Delilah James in my life was an error, to say the least.” A colossal f**k up was closer to the truth. She started showing up at my office and my home, unannounced. Her calls and texts became incessant. I ignored my legal counsel when they suggested a restraining order, and then she released the Kraken…her legion of bloodthirsty fans. Texts, calls, even one package with white powder that forced us to evacuate Mason Acquisitions headquarters. Even though it ended up being flour, the damage was done.

“So you really don’t do relationships?” Melissa asked gingerly. “Not ever.”

Her face flitted through my mind. Not Delilah, her. A slice from my past that choked my heart.

“I don’t do relationships anymore. Didn’t.” I corrected quickly as Melissa’s eyes narrowed. I put the past back where it belonged—behind me. The pull of Melissa was as strong as the waves that rushed to meet the sand. I brushed her hair from her eyes. “With you, things are different.”

She nuzzled my hand, then squeezed her eyes shut and pulled away. “I’m a challenge, or a novelty since I’m nothing like the women you usually dat–” She paused. “Fuck.”

“I admit, you are quite the challenge.” She popped her eyes open, murder in the bright blue things, but a reluctant smile was on her lips. Her smile burned brighter than the sun. I wanted to stand in its light and let everything else fade away. She moved her hand back to the sand, ready to pick back up with the circle. It was her nervous tick that betrayed her. Even though she acted like she was so sure of me, she wanted to be wrong.

I put my hand over hers, stopping her. “And you’re not a novelty. You’re…” I searched for the right word to describe how powerful this attraction was. It hit me and my lips curled as I said. “Mine.”

5

****

I abided her silence for the duration of the ride back to the house, but when she threw open her door and marched towards the studio, the Dom in me reached his limit.

“Stop right there.”

She did, then caught herself and whipped to face me. “I don’t respond well to orders, Logan.” Her nostrils flared. “Or being reduced to some possession that you own.”

I frowned. “That’s what this is about?”

“’You’re mine’?” she spat. She jerked her thumb backward, pointing at herself. “No, I’m mine. Most of my life I was my dad’s. I did everything to make him notice me. To make him see me. Even after I followed in his footsteps, I fade into the sea of his other employees. The only way he gives me a second glance is if I screw up.” Her voice wavered. “I belonged to Jason. I was his, I told him things, gave him pieces of me, but it wasn’t enough. He was everything to me, but to him I was replaceable.”

The tears that built in her eyes stirred the fire in my gut. “Any man that ever made you feel like you were something to be discarded—”

“But don’t you do the same thing?” she said tersely, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “You play and then you move on to the next. If Delilah freaking James can’t hold your attention then how—”

She hitched a breath as I held her, one hand cupping each cheek. Holding her steady. Forcing her to look me in the eye and hear every word.

“You’re not Delilah.”

She sucked in a gasp, her cheeks darkening like she was offended. “Oh, I’m aware I’m not a—”

I muted her retort with my lips. She didn’t even put up a fight, her lips parting willingly with a tortured moan. It was the most beautiful surrender, my tongue dominating hers, dueling with hers, trying to put her worries to rest. She could stop putting Delilah on a pedestal, because she wasn’t even a blip on my radar. Every part of me was tuned into Melissa. I felt the way she sucked in a breath when I took her bottom lip between my teeth and tugged. I felt her body becoming liquid and fluid beneath my touch. I pulled back, still holding her. Not wanting to let go. Her eyes were shut, lips still pursed like she was reliving the kiss.

They fluttered open, her bruised pink lips trembling as she drug her tongue across it, collecting herself. “You’re playing dirty.”

“That’s the only way to play,” I said huskily. I traced the outline of her lips with my finger, already planning its next destination. Down the nape of her neck, skating over the curvature of her br**sts. Lingering at the nipple, flicking the nub as desire gripped her and stubbornness faded. Just as I was about to put my plan into action, I met those wild blue eyes and paused. I was the reader, so good at gauging reactions and determining how virtually anyone would proceed in any given situation, but she was evaluating me. Lip stuck out defiantly, but eyes electric and waiting for my touch.

I trailed my finger down, noting the nervous swallow and slight tremor that rippled over her body as I stroked her collarbone. Even though I knew she’d be evasive, reluctant to admit what her body was shouting, I asked her anyway. “What are you thinking, Melissa?”