RULES OF LOVE (A Navy SEALs Romance) (50 page)

She nodded, looking quite youthful suddenly. In this light, she looked very young—not a day over twenty-one. I could see she was still not used to the city. It was in the way she walked and spoke. I could sense the same when people from far away came to the Big Apple to make a business deal. I know who belonged. She didn’t belong here yet, but I was certain, with maturity and fierceness, she would.

The limo arrived, and she sat a safe distance from me.

“Where to, Mr. Carson?” the driver asked.

“The Tempest Grille,” I said. “Pronto.”

“The seat is so warm,” she said.

“They’re called seat warmers,” I teased.

“I know that. Just not used to it.” She spoke coolly, folding her pretty hands in her lap like a perfect lady.

She kept her eyes focused straight ahead. Her hair had come a bit undone from the wind. Her elegant cheekbones looked gorgeous and sharp, and her long, pretty neck was intoxicating. I wanted to lean over and feast upon it, but she leaned the other way, almost a bit too much. Like she was too aware of me.

She looked at me. Our eyes met. I could tell, even in the dark, that she was beginning to lose her professional composure.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” I replied. I looked forward and smiled.

We got to the restaurant. As usual, there was a big line. I ignored it and walked to the front. People stood back, gaping at me. They all knew who I was.

“Aren’t we waiting?” she asked. That was cute. How considerate.

“I own this restaurant,” I said.

“Oh,” she muttered, a bit taken aback.

“Well, at least in the sense that I pay someone to control it for me, who then pays someone to manage it. But it’s essentially mine. If I wanted to close it down, all I would have to do is walk up to one of those motherfuckers and say it’s over.”

“Ah.” I could tell she didn’t have a clue what the fuck I was talking about, but it added more to her charm.

We sat in the best seat in the house overlooking the Empire State Building. The waitresses bustled over to me, handing us gold-plated menus. Katie looked around dreamily, looking so young again. She took her glasses off and wiped them on her napkin, almost as if to make sure this was really happening.

“When you get your doctorate, you’ll get used to going to places like this,” I said. “By the way, do you like red or white wine?”

“Red. Thank you.”

“So tell me more about your degree.” I sat closer to her than was normal. In this environment, I was the king again. She looked at me, and to my surprise, allowed my proximity.

“It’s a Psy.D. Kinda like an MD. I don’t want to do research. I want to distinguish myself as a counselor,” she said.

“You know, I always had respect for educated people. If I were smart enough, I would have gotten a doctorate. But I’m real—I’m smart enough to get what I need done, smart enough to know people—but I ain’t nothing special up here,” I said, pointing to my skull.

“You seem, at least, above average,” she said, grinning. “Have you ever had a formal IQ test done?”

“No. Can I?” I played along.

“Yes, I can test you,” she said, smiling.

Our dinner arrived. She had ordered a modest salad. I got two appetizers in response so she could share some. If there was anything I knew, it was how to charm a woman into enjoying herself.

“Sophia could read me pretty well, too,” I said.

“Really?” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. I noticed her glass was almost empty. I took it gently from her soft hand, letting mine linger on hers. Just the feeling of her skin made my groin swell. It was so soft.

I had her. I knew it. Her response was to recoil, to excuse herself to the bathroom. I waited for her, my eyes never leaving hers as she walked back, a new shade of pale lipstick applied. Yes, I definitely had her. But she was a fighter. Making her my conquest was not going to be easy. Not a sexual conquest, but an emotional one. I had no intent of cheating on Fiona, but I couldn’t deny the spell this woman had cast upon me.

“The food is great,” she complimented.

“Thanks. I had to sample all of it. It was a hell of a job.”

“You like to take care of people, don’t you? I can tell.”

“Yes.”

“But has it ever occurred to you that maybe you need to let someone take care of you for once?”

I took a huge swig of wine. “Why do you have to play these psychological games?” I grunted.

“I’m not. I’m just asking. I think it’s a part of your problem. Why?”

“Because it’s weakness. That’s why. Letting someone take care of you is weakness.”

“So I’m being weak right now?”

Fuck. She’s good at this.
“No. That’s different,” I countered.

“Why?” she asked.

I didn’t have an answer. “It doesn’t have to make sense. I just feel so damn weird when people try to take care of me. I always did with Sophia.”

“Does Fiona do it, too?”

“No. That’s what I like about her. She wants me to take care of her, always,” I said.

“I’m sure that’s a lot of pressure. Perhaps we should have her in the next session.” Katie looked thoughtful.

“She’d be into that,” I said.

“Okay.” She toasted me. “Deal.”

“Under one condition,” I said, turning to her. We were close now, almost close enough to kiss. I lingered—and she stayed, eyes wide, staring at me with those gorgeous brown eyes. I felt I’d known them for a damn lifetime. I breathed deeply, almost losing myself in her scent—a natural, womanly scent. “You have to let me pay a little extra. To help with school.”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“Listen. It’s an investment for me. You’re a capable counselor, and we need more of those. You never know—I could refer some of my men to you. But they’d better behave themselves,” I warned, staring at her breasts. “Though I wouldn’t blame them if it was hard.”

The wine must have loosened her up a little, because she laughed. “Are your eyes their natural color?” Her voice was breathy, like she was horny. I could almost taste the moistness between her legs. I wanted her so fucking badly—the only thing I couldn’t have. Saying that people got everything in their life definitely was a load of shit.

“Yes. They are mine,” I said, lingering on the ‘mine’ at the end.

She moved away from me a bit, cutting furiously into her salad. She dropped her fork and looked up. “I don’t even like salad. I’m a carnivore,” she confessed.

“Well, I’m paying for this. Have some of my steak.” I put it on her plate. What a woman. My dream woman. Sophia was a carnivore, which must have been why she could gobble cock like a champ. I looked at Katie’s lips and imagined them wrapped around me, wondering if she could do it as well as Sophia. Doubtful, but I would take a gamble.

Her phone rang. She looked down. “This might be an emergency. I have to get it. Hello?”

I faintly heard a deep voice on the other end. I felt my stomach tie in knots, immediately on the defense. Who was calling her?

“Uh huh,” she said through chewing. “Yeah, I mean perhaps when I’m done here. I gotta go—I don’t want to be rude.” She murmured a few more things before hanging up.

“Who was that?” I asked casually.

“Not that you should be asking me that, but a fellow counselor.”

“Ah. What did he want?”

“He invited me to a movie tonight.”

I nearly dropped my fork. “So he likes you?”

“That’s definitely none of your business, Mr. Carson,” she replied firmly.

The wine was hitting me now. I pulled back a bit, realizing I’d stepped over the line. A line I didn’t want to cross, because looking crazy never got you anywhere with a woman. And I wasn’t even sure what the hell I was doing with her while my fiancée was at home. It was ridiculous of me to feel this way.

“You should go with him tonight. I’ll pay for a cab to get you there safely. Oh, and some extra fare to get home when you’re done,” I offered. I wanted her to be home after she was done. Not with another man.

“You’ve already done so much. I couldn’t accept that.”

“Nonsense. We’ll finish up, and I’ll have them pick you up. Then you can be off on your date,” I said, trying not to notice the ugly taste the word ‘date’ left in my mouth.

I felt good giving her orders. Maybe I didn’t need counseling. Maybe I could get my life under control and forget about her, and she could go bone whichever loser had called her. I looked outside. Snow was falling gently. I knew how cold it would be to walk to the train. I could see her bones urging her to accept my offer, even though she clearly wasn’t used to anything like this. Even the strongest person could break in the face of wealth. I was impressed that she’d restrained herself this long.

“Okay,” she said finally. “If I’m going to help you, I probably shouldn’t freeze to death in the meantime, and a night out is always fun.”

I’m sure.
I wanted to say it out loud but I refrained, keeping my composure. Knowing that I shouldn’t care, feeling like I was taking advantage of her.

We walked to the door together, and I hadn’t felt this satisfied after a meal since Sophia left. She put her elegant red coat on, looking like a million bucks. I wanted to take her home and drape her in expensive clothes to match her natural-born beauty. I felt an ache that went beyond things sexual and extended into my heart.

The taxi picked her up again. I stood over her, casting a shadow across her gorgeous face.

“See you next week, Doc. I’ll bring Fiona,” I said. I took her hand gently in mine and shook it, letting the touch linger again.

“See you then, Mr. Carson,” she replied, her voice faltering. I wondered if she wanted what I did—to open the door, close the latch, and fuck while we drove all over town.

She ensured I wouldn’t get my answer. She disappeared into the night, off to see some other guy. I wanted to punch something. I didn’t have time to fume, though, because Gretta pulled up. I could fume to her if I wanted to.

“What’s troubling you, Billy?” she asked in a motherly way. I mean, she could have been my mother, age-wise, but I felt on even turf with her. She had the hard face of life and the wrinkles to show that she’d taken a few hits. She wouldn’t judge me, though I would never let her in past a certain point. Not like Fiona… or Katie.

“Just need to get home. It’s late. I’m surprised Fiona hasn’t called a thousand times already,” I said.

Gretta drove to the house, and I hoped Zach was home. The entire ride, I fumed. Every sign we passed with a happy couple reminded me of Katie, who might be going at it with some other guy. I had no rational reason to despise him. But I hated him the like I hated Sophia’s new boyfriend, Eric. I hated them both.

I let my mind drift to Katie, to her gorgeous lips. Her hair. I wanted to caress her, to slam her down and eat her pussy until she came all over my mouth. I wanted to drink her juices.

I imagined her being moist and ready to fuck, only in another dude’s lap. I could picture his face. He’d sounded young on the phone. Who was he? Was he buff? Was he blonde, young? She had said he was a counselor. A work partner, which made sense…because it would make them close. Too close for my liking.

“Is Zach home?” I asked Gretta, trying to distract myself. My mind could go to some fucked up places when I let it.

“Yes. Well, last time I checked,” she said.

When I stepped through the door, our chef had made food. Some of it had been left out on the stove. I think it was chicken.

“Zach?” I called, enjoying the warm and safe light of the house.

He came down the stairs. He looked miserable. I went immediately into dad-mode, no longer thinking about anything but Zach and the solemn look on his face. I hadn’t seen him so fucked up since his mom left.

“What’s up?”

“She just doesn’t get it,” Zach said angrily, raking his hands through his long dark hair.

“Get what?” I asked, bewildered.

“My collection. She flipped the fuck out today because I had a skull delivered. And the only reason she knew it was there was because she went snooping in
my fucking room. A room that was mine long
before she got here,” he ranted.

He swung round and began walking upstairs. I followed him, curious what had made him so upset. Truthfully, I hadn’t been in Zach’s room in a long time. Partly because it was too painful to remember when he was born and Sophia was around and partly because he had some really weird, outlandish shit. Shit that was even hard for me to cope with.

I entered his room. It was dark and smelled like dust and incense. My mouth dropped because he had bookshelves and display cases filled with what looked like eyeballs, guts, and old photographs of twisted things, like dead people. In the center of his room, the light shining down on it proudly, was a skull.

“Is this even legal?” I asked.

“Yeah, it is. Just an exact replica. So I don’t get why she won’t just leave me alone,” he wailed, his voice cracking.

“I’ll have a talk with her about it,” I assured him. “I promise.”