"No," he rumbled in my ear. "I have to fuck you. Now."
"Why? Are you marking your territory?" I'd only been half serious with the comment, but he pulled back and the look in his eyes said that was exactly what he was doing.
I wriggled out of his gr...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
“Lunch is ready. Should I serve it out here?”
I twisted in Shawn ’s arms to see who had spoken and saw an older woman in the doorway of the house. Her hair was completely gray, and her face had more wrinkles than Jack or Sophia, but I suspected she was near their age. She wiped her hands on the white apron she wore over her plain navy dress.
“Millie, you’re an angel,” Jack said. “Out here is a terrific idea.”
“I’ll let Lebron and Chandler know they should join you.” It wasn’t quite a question, but I understood her statement gave the Carter men a chance to object, which they didn’t.
A short time later, Lebron and Chandler sat with us on the veranda enjoying a lunch of cold meat sandwiches, fruit salad, and lemonade. Even though it was simple, it was one of the best lunches I’d had in ages.
I waited until my curiosity couldn’t be contained any longer to ask why Sophia and Kelly weren’t eating with us. Not that I wanted Sophia’s company, but I would have loved to spend time with Shawn ’s sister.
“They’re out shopping for baby stuff,” Lebron said in between bites of ham sandwich. He took a swallow of his lemonade. “Kelly wanted to invite you. She looked for you before she left, but she couldn’t find you.”
“Darn. That must have been when we were touring the grounds. Sorry, Bey.” Jack didn’t look at all remorseful.
My own response to the idea fell out unfiltered. “Fuck that. Like I’d go anywhere with Sophia, let alone shopping.” I covered my mouth with my hand. “Sorry!”
Chandler was the first to burst into laughter, joined a moment later by Jack and Lebron. Even Shawn let out a chuckle.
“I’m totally with you there,” Lebron said when he could speak.
“I think Mom feels the same way about you,” Chandler said, putting his feet up on the edge of the table. “She seemed to be glad when Kelly couldn’t find you.”
“Chandler.” Shawn ’s tone was a warning.
“It’s okay, Shawn.” I put a hand on his thigh, careful not to let on everyone see how much I enjoyed feeling his tight muscles through the material of his slacks. “Your mother and I are a long way from friendly. It’s not a secret.”
Shawn nodded, but his brow furrowed. Did he really care that much about his mother’s opinion? Jack was right—that was too bad.
After lunch, Lebron and Chandler corralled me into playing X-Box 360 with them in the media room. Shawn spread out on the couch near us, his thick reports and folders taking up most of the sofa while he worked on his laptop. Eventually Jack brought out a deck of cards and we played poker using pistachios for chips. As I’d suspected, Jack won a great deal of the time, though Chandler also had a surprising knack for the game.
After losing all of my pistachios in a bluff that Chandler called me on, I stretched and looked over at Shawn . Even though he hadn’t participated in our games, I never forgot he was near, his presence invading every part of my body like a constant electric pulse. Occasionally when I glanced over at him, which happened often, I saw he was already staring. It was our own game of secret foreplay—looking at each other, undressing each other with our eyes. Later, I knew, he’d make good on the promises in his sexy stare.
This time, his eyes were glued to his screen, his glasses resting low on his nose while his fingers moved on the keyboard at a pace that suggested he was thinking as he typed. I crossed behind him and leaned down to rest my chin in the crook of his neck, wrapping my arms around him.
At my touch, Shawn lifted a hand from his computer and patted my arm. “Game over?”
“For me.” I pulled to a standing position and rubbed my hands along his shoulders. “Wow, Shawn You’re tense.” He sighed as I massaged my fingers into the knots of his back. “What’s getting you stressed out?” I hoped it wasn’t our girlfriend/boyfriend show, though his tight muscles could have been attributed to the activities of the night before. The man had performed some moves that had to have required a great deal of strength.
“This situation with Plexis.” He paused and I knew he was deciding whether to say more or not. It wasn’t in his nature to share, but I’d thought I convinced him that he could talk business with me. I continued working his back as I waited, giving him a chance to continue.
My patience was rewarded. “The board is moving to sell. I need to come up with an attractive proposal to convince them it’s more profitable to keep the company.”
Even though he couldn’t see me, I nodded. I studied the screen over his head, enjoying the quiet moans that escaped from his throat as I massaged his tension away. “You’re redistributing production?” I asked. But I didn’t need his answer. I could see from what he’d entered that he was. “You’d make a whole lot more if you moved those North America lines to your Indonesia plant. You’re far from capacity there.”
“Oh, you’re one of those types who resort to taking jobs away from American people to cut costs.”
“Not usually,” I said, balling my hand into a fist to push into the rock under Shawn ’s shoulder blade. “But you’re going to lose all your USA jobs if you don’t do something, right? Losing a few is better than losing them all.”
“Yes,” he admitted.
I smiled as he changed his data to implement my suggestion, giddy that I’d offered an idea that he’d accepted. Throwing a bit more back into my hands, I felt Shawn ’s tight muscle close to releasing. “Take a deep breath.” He did and I pushed once more into his knot, feeling it loosen as I did.
“Thanks,” he said, slightly awed, rolling his shoulders.
I shook my hands out. “You’re welcome.”
Returning my focus to Shawn ’s work I noticed the technical specifications sheet of a new product on the pile next to him. “Besides,” I said, reaching to grab the piece of paper, “if you start producing this energy efficient bulb in the American plant in its place, you’ll maintain those jobs and save money with that new tax law. Plus you’ll get a tax break for employing Americans.”
Shawn shook his head. “That law only benefits new companies.”
“No, it benefits any product that hasn’t been produced in the U.S. before, new company or not.”
“I don’t think that’s correct.”
I’d led an entire seminar on the new tax code my last semester at Stern. I knew what I was talking about. His opposition was a challenge. “Do you have a copy of the current tax code?”
“On my Kindle. Under there somewhere.” Shawn nodded his head at the stacks of reports sitting next to him.
I moved around the couch and started to dig through his piles in search of the device. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at a table?”
Without looking at me his lips curved slightly as he said, “I wanted to be near you.”
His answer surprised me. The other men in the room weren’t paying attention to us. He hadn’t said it for them. He’d meant it.
“I like being near you, too,” I said, when I recovered enough to speak. I didn’t look at him, hiding the blush from my admission while searching for the Kindle. After I found it, I quickly looked up the law I was referring to and handed the proof to Shawn .
“Well, well,” he said after he read it. “Looks like you’re onto something here.”
He started to hand the Kindle back to me, but paused, studying me.
I couldn’t interpret the meaning, but the intensity of his gaze made my chest tight and my thighs warm. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.” Passing the Kindle to me, he asked, “Would you mind sharing your thoughts on the rest of my proposal?”
My heart sped up, delighted at the invitation. From what I’d learned about Shawn , inviting his girlfriend—or woman he was sleeping with, anyway—to work on a business project with him was not his typical mode of operation. It was new territory for him, which made it exactly the territory I enjoyed charting most.
We spent the rest of the afternoon working together, Shawn bouncing ideas off of me as I researched further information when he needed it. While I’d always enjoyed the world of business, I hadn’t thought it could be so fun, hence the reason I’d chosen to manage a nightclub rather than to pursue an office job. But now an office job seemed rather appealing. Especially if that job included working side by side with Shawn Carter. Though, with all the accidental brushes and searing looks we exchanged, I doubted we could manage working together for a prolonged period of time without losing most of our clothing.
But, really, that only made the job sound more appealing.
The savory aroma of a roast wafting from the kitchen wing caused my stomach to growl. I stretched. “Is it close to dinnertime?”
Behind me, Kelly answered. “I was just coming to tell you dinner is served.”
“I didn’t realize you were home. When did you get back?”
“A few minutes ago. Mom has a headache but everyone else is already waiting in the dining room.”
“A headache, huh?” I eyed Shawn . I was beginning to suspect Sophia was avoiding me. How had the conversation in the kitchen ended that morning? Had Shawn won the battle, giving me reprieve of his mother’s nastiness?
“She’s known to get them from time to time.” His expression was tight, giving nothing away. Which told me everything I needed to know. I’d have to repay him later for the kindness.
After supper, Chandler left to meet friends and the rest of us headed back to the media room. Shawn got back on his laptop and I assumed he was diving back into work. Instead he handed his laptop to me. “All right, Beyoncé. Tell me something you need to see off your list and we’ll download it from iTunes.”
Puzzled, I took his laptop and found he’d loaded up the AFI list of best movies. I tried not to grin too wide, not wanting to seem too surprised because he remembered my goal to watch all the titles on the list. He was my “boyfriend,” after all. He should have remembered.
But he really wasn’t my boyfriend, and I found the gesture oddly touching.
“Are you going to watch it, too?” I asked, suddenly worried he meant to keep working on his Plexis dilemma without me.
“I am.” He’d already begun packing away his reports into his briefcase as he spoke.
I chose Midnight Cowboy after discovering Shawn hadn’t seen it either. Lebron took care of setting up the movie then settled into one side of the couch with Kelly. After Shawn cleaned up his area, he patted the seat next to him, his arm outstretched and inviting. Gladly, I sank into the sofa next to him, cuddling into his warm embrace.
The American Film Institute named Midnight Cowboy as number forty-three on their Top One Hundred. But watching it snuggled with Shawn —it was my new number one.
When it was over we all went our separate ways for the night. In our bedroom, Shawn sat on the bed, fully dressed, and pulled out his laptop again.
Though he’d relinquished his computer during the movie, content to hold me and to snack on microwave popcorn, he’d worked most of the day. I studied him, his intense features appearing tired. We’d stayed up late the night before, and I didn’t know what time he woke before bringing up breakfast. I wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d been buried in work then too. “Shawn, you’re a workaholic. Are you going to be at it all night?”
He grinned though his eyes never left the screen. “Oh, precious, work is not what I’ll be at all night. But I need a few minutes to send this new proposal to the board before I can devote my attention to you. Do you mind?”
“Take your time. I’ll get ready for bed.” I lowered the lights as he had the night before, then took advantage of his distraction and retrieved the sexy nightie I’d brought with me before slipping into the bathroom.
I didn’t hurry as I undressed, taking the opportunity to shave and apply lotion before slipping on the red lace halter baby-doll I’d purchased on Friday afternoon. The halter-top accentuated my breasts, an area of my body that Shawn appreciated. I removed the ponytail holder from my hair and let it spill around my shoulders in a seductive mess. I brushed my teeth and applied a thin layer of strawberry lip gloss.
When I was satisfied with my appearance, I opened the door to the bedroom and posed in the doorway, waiting for Shawn ’s reaction.
I was met with quiet snoring.
With his hands still propped on his open laptop, Shawn had fallen asleep, fully dressed. I sighed, debating how to address the situation. Of course I wanted him awake, but he wouldn’t have fallen asleep like that if he wasn’t truly worn out. Plus, I had to remind myself, night was my time of day—not his.
Gently, I slipped the computer from his grasp and placed it on the nightstand. The movement didn’t disturb him in the least—he was out. I decided to let him sleep, but as for myself, I wasn’t in the least bit tired. I wondered if Jack was still awake—maybe we could play another round of poker, though being alone with the man wasn’t entirely a great idea. I peered out the window and saw the guesthouse was dark. Probably for the best.
The pool sprawled below my window though, and suddenly a midnight swim sounded heavenly. I traded my lingerie for a string bikini, threw on my robe, and grabbed a towel. Then I slipped on my flip-flops and turned off all the lights before venturing down to the grounds.
The pool was heated and felt amazing—exactly what I’d needed. I hadn’t been for a swim in months, since I’d let my gym membership expire earlier in the year. And I had the place to myself—perfection.
I pushed myself through thirty serious laps before relaxing into a dozen or so at a leisurely pace. Then I sat on the step in the shallow end of the pool, letting my heart rate return to normal while lazing in the warm water.
“Where’s Shawn ?” Sophia’s voice startled me from my reverie.
I shifted in my spot and found her standing behind me, dressed in the same robe she’d worn the night before, and, again, a glass of amber liquid in her hand. I wondered if she was a heavy drinker or if my being in her home brought it on.
“He’s…he fell asleep.” I climbed out of the pool and reached for my towel, feeling small in her presence. She had that effect on me in general, but also I hadn’t asked anyone if I could use the pool and I worried I’d taken advantage of my host’s hospitality. Although, Sophia hadn’t been hospitable in the least, so perhaps it was a moot concern.
I faced away from her as I toweled off, but I heard her take a seat in a deck chair behind me. “He doesn’t love you, you know?”
I’d heard her, but didn’t trust my ears. I turned to meet her narrow eyes. “Pardon me?”
“He can’t.” She swirled the liquid in her glass as she spoke, her tone laced with pain. “He’s incapable.”
Incapable. That was exactly what Shawn had said. Had it been his mother who had forced him to embrace such an idiotic idea about himself? The earlier hostility I’d felt toward her when I’d listened at the kitchen door returned and spilled like poison from my lips. “Maybe you’re projecting your own incapability of emotion.”
Her voice grew colder, but remained steady, in control. “Your words can’t touch me, Ms. Knowles. This is my house, Shawn is my son. I’m the one in power here.”
“Fuck you.”
She smiled. “He’s had years of therapy. Extensive therapy.”
So have I. I threw my towel down and wrapped my robe around me, taking the time to make sure my tone was as level as hers when I spoke again. “He’s told me.”
“Has he? But he hasn’t shared the details.” She leaned forward, her eyes catching one of the outdoor lights, causing them to glow red. She couldn’t have looked nastier if she’d tried. “If he had, you’d know he can’t love anyone. He’s sociopathic. Diagnosed at age twenty.”
She surprised me, the lack of strength in my response telling her as much. “Shawn ’s not a sociopath.” Was he?
“He’s deceitful and manipulative, egocentric, grandiose, glib and superficial. Incapable of remorse. He engages in casual and impersonal sexual relationships.” She ticked off traits easily, as if they always bubbled right there at the surface of her consciousness. “Look it up—he fits the definition to a tee. He has no concern for others’ feelings. He can’t love anyone.”
“I don’t believe that.” But my voice cracked.
“You’re extremely naïve.”
“You’re an extreme bitch.” I gathered my towel in my arms and slipped on my flip-flops, needing to be away from her and her horrible accusations. But her words had already done their job. I doubted, and she knew it.
“He’s only with you for the sex.” She stood, blocking me from the path to the house. “You’re attractive.” Her eyes skidded down to my bosom. “And clearly his type. He seems to like fucking buxom blondes the most.”
I had nothing to say in my defense. He’d told me our relationship was only sex. I was aware enough of my obligations to my on-duty job, though, and I spoke as if we were a real couple. “If it was just sex, he’d never bring me to meet you.”
Her smile widened. “That’s an added bonus for him. He can rile me up and get his kicks with you all at once. It really has nothing to do with you. It’s about me and my son.” She took a step toward me, and it took all my strength not to cower. “You, Ms. Knowles, are insignificant.”
I wanted to believe that I would have slapped her or pushed her into the pool—she deserved either, both really. But our confrontation was interrupted by Chandler and four other teenage boys boisterously entering the pool area, dressed in swim trunks and carrying towels.
“Mom?” Chandler said upon seeing his mother’s back. Sophia stepped aside and he met my eyes. “Bey,” he said, surprised to see me or perhaps recognizing the stricken look that I must have worn. “I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”
“Beyoncé and I were getting to know each other.” Sophia switched gears as easily as Shawn .
Chandler cocked a brow skeptically.
I used the boys’ intrusion to escape. “The pool’s all yours. I’m done here.” Without looking back, I hurried into the house through the kitchen and up to the east wing, not stopping until I was outside our bedroom doors.
Then the tears fell, thick and heavy. I leaned against the wall, and slid down to a sitting position, unable to stand in the weight of my grief. So many emotions and thoughts warred for top billing. Sophia’s insults had hurt, but what pained me most was the possibility that she was right.
What had I seen to show me differently? We’d had instances—Shawn and I—where I believed he truly cared, that he felt more for me than physical attraction, but had I imagined them? I had my own history of making meaningless moments carry heavier weight than they were meant to.
And her description of a sociopath did fit Shawn . I didn’t need to look up the definition—I’d been in enough group therapy sessions to be familiar with the signs. But I’d never associated Shawn with the definition until Sophia had pointed it out. Had I purposefully ignored the connection?
Or was Sophia wrong?
I’d had therapists misdiagnose me early on in my therapy. And Idris’s understanding of my problems was way off base. What if Shawn believed the worst about himself because Sophia had believed it? Maybe he’d never had a chance to prove her wrong.
Maybe that’s what I was—a chance.
The possibility calmed me, though I was smart enough to realize its improbability.
I wiped my face with my damp towel and pushed myself up from the ground. Taking a deep breath I pushed open the door as quietly as I could.
“Beyoncé?” I heard Shawn reach to switch on the bedside lamp. “Is that you?”
“Yeah.” I turned toward the door as I closed it, giving myself a minute to compose myself. “I wasn’t tired, so I went for a swim.” I took a deep breath then plastered a smile on my face before facing him.
“Good, I’m glad you…” He leaned forward, his body tense. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Was I that transparent? I couldn’t talk to him—not now.
“Your eyes are red. You’ve been crying.”
“No, no. The chlorine. Bothers my eyes.” I rubbed at my puffy eyes hoping to accentuate my point.
He tilted his head, as if deciding whether I was being honest with him.
I couldn’t take his scrutiny. If he pressed, I’d break, and I needed to settle my emotions about him and his mother’s claims before I spoke with him about them. What would he say anyway? He’d either deny it or he wouldn’t. If he denied it, could I trust him? If he didn’t deny it, could I trust that?
Searching for an escape, I said, “Um, I’m going to jump in the shower.”
“I’ll join you.”
I didn’t argue. But we didn’t speak as we entered the bathroom and undressed, Shawn helping me untie the back of my bikini top before he worked to remove his own clothing. I hung my wet suit on the edge of the tub and climbed into the shower, adjusting the temperature until it was near scalding.
When Shawn joined me, his dick already semi-erect, longing overcame me. I didn’t know all the truth about Shawn , and I did know many damning truths about myself. But faced with his naked hard body and the awareness that—whether or not he could love me—he could make me feel better, at least for the moment, I pulled him toward me urgently, claiming his mouth with a hunger I’d never experienced.
“Beyoncé?” He pulled away, his hands firmly grasped on my shoulders. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
“I’m fine. I just…” I loved him. That was why I was torn up over everything Sophia had said. I loved him and I wanted—needed—to believe Shawn could love me too.
Not able to say those words—not yet—I settled for another version of the truth. “I need you.”
He knew I was hiding something, but he nodded. “I’m here, precious.” Then he took over, fulfilling me in ways only he could, satisfying me as deeply as he was able.
I lost myself to it, letting myself forget that he might never be able to love me in any way but this—with his mouth and tongue and dick.
Maybe it could be enough.
