My fingers dig into the cabinet. This time, I swallow my sounds.
“You asked for this, Cherry.”
Is he reminding me or himself?
The pain fades but doesn’t disappear. There’s a matching throbbing on both sides of my butt.
The second hand on the watch is barely past the two.
It feels like I can earn his trust.
Earn him.
He adjusts my thong, tugging up to give him more of a canvas.
My core throbs as the fabric pulls tight across my flesh. My thighs clench together, but the tug of desire is only a momentary distraction when his hand comes back down.
He’s spanking me hard now, loud smacks that echo through the room.
My skin is on fire.
The second hand seems to slow down as it rounds the four. The six.
I can’t do another thirty seconds of this.
Right when I’m about to call him off, his hand returns, squeezing and then rubbing, soothing the pain.
My back arches and a tiny sigh slips out.
I’m confused. It hurts and then it doesn’t. It’s awful and then beautiful.
“Are you enjoying this?” His whisper is so low it’s barely audible.
Is he reading my mind or my body?
The rasp of his breathing says it’s affecting him every bit as much as me.
I twist and look up at him, my eyes burning.
His pupils are blown, but instead of looking open and exhilarated, he’s closed off.
Sawyer isn’t reckless and free-spirited. He’s wired to judge and condemn. He might be open when it comes to sex, but when it comes to trust, he’s jealous and stingy.
So when does it end?
The answer’s obvious. Never.
“Stop.”
His entire body recoils. He flips my skirt back down and steps back.
“I thought that this would make us even,” I start. “But it isn’t even about me. You’re getting off on punishing the world that screwed you over. I didn’t take the money,” I go on before he can respond. “I didn’t even know there was money. The lawyer called me but I hung up before she could tell me the details.”
I adjust my clothes while he watches with dawning horror.
“I never wanted to take from you. I wanted to meet you on level ground. Or as level as we could be given the circumstances.” I smooth my skirt down, wincing as my skin burns. “But I see now that will never happen, because you won’t ever let anyone in. So forget it, Professor. I’m done trying to earn anything from you.”
His dark eyes pin mine, and I refuse to be drawn in by the emotions in them. “Olivia—”
“I couldn’t find it.” The click of the door opening is lost in the sound of Adam’s voice. “Redmond’s going to have to go get it himself if he wants it so badly,” he says, rounding the corner.
He looks between us and I swipe at the corner of my eyes before he can spot my tears. I take a step toward him, behind him.
“You’re looking for this?” Sawyer reaches over to the shelf next to us and holds up the piece Adam was searching for.
Adam blinks, sheepish. “Oh. I must’ve missed it before.”
When the three of us walk back to the lab together in silence, I stick close to Adam.
This time, I don’t feel Sawyer’s eyes on my back.
I don’t think he’s looking at me at all.
7
Sawyer
“Would you like cream?” the barista asks.
“No. Black.”
The coffee lands in front of me, the color warm like caramel.
“Shit, you said black, didn’t you? It’s been a rough morning.” She grimaces. “I’ll remake it.”
I hold up a hand. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not, you asked for black—”
“I used to drink it with cream in school. I’ll get over it.” I force a smile and turn with my light-tinted coffee to head toward the back.
I pass the handful of occupied tables, a mix of town dwellers and Russell U students gossiping and studying at Some Like It Hot, a popular café that’s new since I was last in town.
What’s with the nice guy act?
I’m feeling guilty over what went down at the supply room. It was a new low. Not an emotional one, but a moral one.
This morning, I met Daniel for a run. It felt good to work out my arms and legs and get my blood pumping. But every footfall on the pavement had me thinking about Olivia.
What we had before last week: the way she melted in my embrace, how she kissed me back, how she opened up to me so easily.
Then the way she looked at me after she straightened her clothes in the supply room.
Finding out my dad left her fifty grand, I couldn’t see straight. Not because of the money but because it meant that he cared about her. And knowing her, she cared about him.
Hearing her and Adam joking in the hallway broke the last of my control.
I bent her over a cabinet and reddened every inch of her ass for how she made me feel, including the cheap insults she hurled my way once we were alone.
I’d only meant to shock her a little but I got carried away.
When I was done, she looked up at me with those stubborn dark eyes full of accusation and said she didn’t even take the money.
What I couldn’t say was it punished me as much as her.
I sink into a seat, setting my notebook on the table.
Maybe there is something wrong with me.
I can blame my father all I want, but there was a sliver of darkness in my heart before I ever met Albert Lancaster, and it outlived him.
I pull up the student essays I started reading the other day, but the ringtone on my phone interrupts before I get far.
“Sawyer,” my former partner says.
“Graham. So you’ve finally called to offer me my half of the company back.”
“It seems as if you’re trying to take it.” A pause. “One of our junior engineers said you’ve been asking who’s interested in moving.”
“Did you expect me to deny it? I don’t deny facts.”
“I didn’t call to discuss what happened last year.”
There’s an old New York magazine on the windowsill from whoever was here last, and I thumb through the business news. I stop when I see a piece about both of us.
“Can you even look her in the eye?” I drawl. “If I had a daughter I put up to lying to the entire world like you did, I sure as hell couldn’t.”
When we founded the company five years ago, it was a balance of client work and our own projects—the former paid the bills. But it was always our aspiration to do more cutting-edge development.
The tension came to a head last year when I decided to allocate a few million in budget to new projects without proven markets yet.
He said no. Like the company wasn’t half mine, too.
I pointed out he was stuck in the past, like every other firm in New York.
So instead of dealing with it man to man…
He set a trap.
One there was no hope of avoiding.
The day after, the entire staff looked at me like they weren’t sure what kind of man I was.
I’m the ruthless kind. The reckless kind.
When the world doesn’t care enough, you have to look out for yourself.