His silence spoke volumes.
“I'm sorry if I insulted you,” I whispered, suddenly feeling guilty. “But not everyone is out to get your money. For some people, connections are more important than their bank balance. You're never going to find happiness until you figure that out.”
I stepped past him and started towards the porch, angry at myself for letting down Mistress Kayla and Charles. They hadn't asked for much and it wasn't an impossible task, but I'd managed to screw it up in two blunt conversations.
“How do you know I'm unhappy?” he called out, making me freeze mid-step. I took a deep breath and turned my head to look over my shoulder at him.
“You hide behind walls, Jared. You don't let people in, and anyone that tries to get close is accused of wanting your inheritance. You're hard to read but easy to evaluate.” With that, I started walking again, leaving him behind in the dark as I slipped up the back porch steps and through the back door, pulling it closed behind me before leaning against it.
Now, I had to figure out how to explain myself, and my actions, to my Mistress.
I took my time getting to the room I was sharing with Mistress Kayla, only to find that she wasn't even there yet. The walk hadn't lasted all that long before I'd accused Jared of being arrogant and closed off and of chasing his grandfather’s money. It had to be a record.
I paced the room for a while, annoying myself by passing over a creak in the floorboards. I was unsure of what to do. For two years I'd been, in one way or another, taken to bed and I hadn't worn anything in all that time. I'd grown accustomed to Mistress’ high thread count sheets against my bare skin and the connection of her body against mine. It seemed ridiculous that I was at a loss for what to do. I would have just gone halfway and worn underwear to bed, only I didn't have any on.
I could have gone looking for Mistress Kayla for guidance, but I really didn't want to disturb her if she and Charles were having a reunion of some kind.
Exhausted from my battle with Jared, I pulled off my dress and climbed into bed, my mind still spinning with questions and plans as to how I could fix the situation. I was sure he was naturally Dominant, but I was clueless as to how to bring that out in him or even broach the subject without offending him. I had nothing to lose if he ended up disgusted in me, yet there was a small part of me that cringed at the very thought.
Why? It wasn't as though he was charming or personable. Sure, he was gorgeous, but his personality reminded me of that of a cat. Everything had to be on his terms. He was interesting and dull all at the same time. It was hard to tell if we had anything in common because all he seemed to do was make idle accusations and hold his stony silence. He'd called me infuriating, but he was the biggest culprit of that. He was a ball of contradictions, while I was an open book in comparison.
I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to shut my brain down long enough to fall into the darkness of sleep. The room was so quiet that I was pretty sure I could hear the old grandfather clock downstairs and the click of the seconds passing by. Tick. Fuck. Tock. Me. I did this over and over, until it sounded more like begging than hopelessness. It was a chorus that the crickets and frogs outside the window on the swamp started to join in on.
Then one creak of the floorboard shut it all down.
I wasn’t a skittish person by nature. Even when I wasn’t in my own home and in my own bed, I didn't worry about the strange sounds of the house relaxing and moving around me. I faced most of those fears long before that night, so my immediate reaction was not to hide under the covers but to climb out of bed and investigate, hopeful that Mistress Kayla was going to be on the other side of the door.
I hadn't considered my nakedness when I pulled open the door. It was a perpetual state for me, so it wasn't as though I registered the cool breeze of the air conditioning or ceiling fan. I was used to it. However, I became fully aware of my state of undress when I found Jared on the other side of the door, his eyes wide with surprise as they took me in and, as though suddenly realizing what he was doing, he looked away.
“I'm sorry. I came to... You're naked.”
“You're a good looking man. I'm sure you've seen it all before,” I teased, leaning against the doorframe and inspecting my cuticles. A plan was formulating in my head as I felt his eyes roam over me again, believing I was oblivious to his inspection. “Would you like to come in?”
The resounding yes was in his body language and the very obvious arousal that his hoity-toity pants weren't hiding very well. His hand twitched at his side and my body stirred in recognition. I wanted to bow my head and defer to him, to fall to my knees in capitulation. But then what? What if he had no idea what to do with me? The thought left me cold, which was inevitably followed by confusion and frustration. My body was so wound up and I had no release.
Sleep seemed to be falling further and further from my grasp. That moment would have been a great time to sneak into the bath and take advantage of being out of my submissive role with no clarity on the rules.
“Best not.”
Rolling my eyes, I put up one finger. “Give me five seconds and we'll see if you reconsider.”
“Kit, I—”
I ignored him and wandered into the bathroom to look for a towel, happy when I found two matching robes hanging on the back of the door. This place was better than some of the hotels we'd been to. Pulling it on, stepping back out and heading to the door, I spun with my arms spread wide and a broad grin on my lips at my success.
“Better?”
“Much. Thank you.” It was a shame his eyes didn't back the statement up, the icy blue I'd grown accustomed to soon becoming a warmer shade of the color that sent shivers down my spine.
“Come on in. You obviously have something on your mind.”
“I just wanted to apologize.”
Be nice, Kit!
I warned myself, fighting off the urge to turn on the dramatics. I would have only ended up pissing him off again and then we'd be back to square one. Giving him a chance to gather his thoughts, I headed toward the bed again.
“I know I can be an arsehole. I just see two beautiful women with the old man and...” He took a few steps inside. “Well, he's always been rather promiscuous you see and... I'm sorry.”
“Jared.” I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my feet up under me. “There's nothing wrong with a man his age having an active sex life. Even if we were here to share his bed and have hot, wild, monkey sex all night, it doesn't mean that we want his money.”
Jared opened his mouth to contradict me but I put up a hand to stop him.
“I see your point. I really do. As much as modern society is convinced that they're open to new and crazy things, there’s still a stigma about aging citizens getting jiggy with it. More often than not, they see a young woman with an older man and assume that she's with him for the money. It's just the way it is. But it's not always the case. Sometimes the heart wants what it wants and we love someone regardless of age, race, color, social status or sex. We just love. Maybe you should talk to people first.”
“I applaud your ability to get the word jiggy into a sentence, but the connotations are rather disturbing,” he said, nodding in acknowledgment, the small twitch at the corner of his lips telling me his humor was genuine. “But you talk as though you don't consider yourself as part of modern society.”
“I don't. I've never been much of a conformist, and I don't like these boxes people use to stereotype one another. I'm a simple girl who lives in her own bubble. I don't even watch the news because it depresses me. I love who I want to love, live where and how I want to live, and though I adhere to laws and common sense rules, the rest I make up as I go along.”
“I've never met anyone like you.”
“Good. That means I'm original.” I grinned back, patting the bed next to me. He finally took the invitation and kicked the door closed before he sat on the bed beside me, falling to his back on the mattress. It was the most relaxed I'd seen him since I met him.
“I wish I could be like that.”
“Like what?” I asked, mimicking his pose and bouncing to the side, propping my head up on my hand.
“A non-conformist, living my life the way I want to.”
“Then why don't you?”
He turned his head and grinned at me ruefully, both of us answering my question at the same time. “The money.”
“Why is it so important to you?”
“I don't really think it is, but my father's always drilled into me the value of money. What things cost, how much we wasted, how bad life could be without it. I guess those lectures stuck more than I ever intended them to.”
“I get that, and sure, it would be nice not to have to worry about money, but it's not that bad. I mean, you probably have enough to last you fifteen lifetimes, right? What's the big deal?”
“More. It's always about more.”
I wrinkled my nose and tried to see myself in his shoes – being able to do anything, buy anything, go anywhere and never having to check my bank account to see if I had the money available. It was a nice thought, but what happened when I died? All that material stuff stayed behind, and I’d have been so paranoid that I'd never let anyone close.
I blinked out of my rumination and found Jared staring at me, his lips curled into an attractive smile.
“What?”
“You just spent a couple of million in your head, didn't you? I saw the wistfulness in your smile.”
“Not gonna lie, I had a shopping spree in some of my favorite stores and my little car was upgraded,” I said with a laugh. “But I don’t like the thought of being paranoid all the time, questioning every relationship and friendship I have. What happens when you die? You can't take money with you. You've never made a genuine connection with anyone. Will it be worth it? For me, it just sounds lonely.”
Jared blew all the air out of his lungs, his hands rising to his face to rub it in frustration. The crickets and the gentle hum of the AC that had been drowned out by our conversation were now growing deafening again.
“I need to introduce you to my father.”
“He'd probably have me thrown out of England.”
“You have no idea.” He laughed.
Jared and I, having found a basic foundation for conversation, talked for hours about anything and everything that came to mind after we finally bridged the gap. The lack of connection was completely obliterated as we began to find more and more that we had in common. He was funny, a genuine character with some tall tales of the things he’d seen and done when he was young enough to avoid his father’s iron fist. We laughed at stupid things, went silent in sadness and, eventually, let sleep find us both. No matter how often we startled awake, we continued on as though we hadn't stopped.
Maybe there was hope for a friendship after all. The only problem now, was the more I started to like him, the more I started to question what it was I was there to do.
I woke up with a quiet groan. My neck ached from the angle I was lying at, and there was something pinching my toe. My lips curled into a smile as my eyes flickered open, and looking down, I saw Mistress Kayla grinning up at me with her finger over her lips, very obviously drunk.
That was new.
She pointed to the bed beside me and I saw Jared passed out. In his fingers was a curl of my hair, neatly twisted as though he'd been playing with it. Funny, I didn't remember being conscious for that. I loved my hair being played with. It was probably the very thing that took me from dozing to a deep, comfortable sleep.
Looking back down at Mistress Kayla, I noted her humor and she nodded before beginning a rather comedic attempt at charades. She pointed to herself, then brought her hands palm to palm and put them to her cheek and finished by jerking her thumb over her shoulder. I understood immediately but played dumb, just because it was adorable.
She went through the routine again, pinching my calf when I gave myself up with a silent laugh and a nod. Then she finished by pointing to her eye, her heart, and then me.
My smile grew and I mouthed the sentiment back to her with a blown kiss. Taking her toy bag as well as her duffle, she tiptoed to the door before freezing and dropping them both to the ground quietly. Digging through the duffle and pulling out two neatly folded piles of clothes, she stacked them on the dresser. Then she was gone, leaving me lying in a robe beside a sleeping Jared.
Stretching up, I pulled one of the soft, down pillows toward me, freezing as Jared stirred beside me. He reached out, his hands finding my waist and pulling me against his side, which, all things considered, was a little awkward.
Not wanting to disturb him, I moved slowly and settled myself against his chest, my arms flailing for a moment before finding a position more comfortable. He smelled divine. There were faint traces of cologne mixed with his natural scent and remnants of our walk outside. I could almost smell the magnolia lingering on his linen shirt and buried my face in closer.
I hadn't cuddled with a man in years, and though I was loathed to admit it, I missed it. There was strength in him, the muscles in his arms as he cradled me against him, the undeniable fit of the structures of our bodies where we touched. I felt like I was betraying Mistress Kayla as I reveled in every magnificent part of him, yet I couldn't fight the heaviness of my eyes or the sinking feeling as my weight settled against his. Once again, sleep was taking control and pulling me under, while my guilt was pushed to the back of my mind as I gave in to fatigue.
I woke again to the bed being jostled around me, my eyelids a bright pink telling me that the sun was kissing me through the thin curtains. For a moment, I didn't acknowledge the body stretching out beside me and allowed myself to wake up slowly.
That was until I breathed in the masculine scent that temporarily confused me. My eyes flickered open, finding the male hand still curled around my ribs, the unmistakable sound of a yawn finally chasing away the last whispers of sleep.