The Heart Thief

the heart thief- |06|

Roman

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I've always known that fate had been kind to me. It bestowed upon me the looks and charm. When those attributes were combined with my family background and fortune, there was little I ever desired that was denied to me. I was accustomed to getting my way and expecting events to unfold exactly as I desired.

Lately, that wasn't the case.

The awareness of the lack in my life wasn't something anyone would understand. I was conscious of a strange restlessness within myself; a growing dissatisfaction with my existence. Isaac described it as dramatic. My mother tried to drag me into her hobbies in the hopes of sparking something in me. My father believed that all I needed to do was get laid. It wasn't something any son would want to hear, and my brother thought I needed a change of scenery. I liked to pretend the idea came to me first because I didn't want to give my brother the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten me to listen. But I knew he could be right about the change of scenery. Being at home made me feel as if I was walking on eggshells. My life had no direction. I was uninterested until I gave myself a goal. I set a goal and tried to achieve it despite knowing nothing about being a matchmaker.

Millie was the goal. Millie was that unwrapped present I never wanted to wrap because I was afraid of giving it away for another reason. I wasn't about to admit that my desire to see her again was intense, so intense that I cancelled a meeting with my legal team just to sit in my office and think about her. It got to the point where I imagined her mouth wrapped around my dick. I'd never admit that when she left me in the bar, I felt strangely robbed.

So, naturally, I did what no one in my position would do. I tried to keep my distance, but didn't that work out so well? The woman piqued my interest. She set fire to something inside me that was brimming with heat. Isaac was right about one thing. I was a dumbass. I wanted Millie — in my bed, under me, on top of me, and everywhere else she would have me. But I wasn't an asshole who goes back on his word. What would she think of me if she knew the thoughts that run through my mind about her? But what man would let a woman like her slip through their fingers? She appeared to be strong, intelligent, and beautiful. My thoughts returned to her in a dress, to her body, her curves, and her long, shapely legs. Our knees had accidentally brushed against the table in the bar, which she hadn't noticed, but it sent electricity and warmth through me.

The hint of creamy cleavage peeking from her blouse right now was fucking with my mind.

But I was a gentleman. Sometimes. I tried to be. On most days. Like right now. I was trying to be a good host, a good friend, and possibly a good matchmaker. As long as there was no tent on my crotch, I was good. I was in the clear. I could pretend to be a man with good intentions. A man with clear thoughts. A good man. Good enough to find Millie the perfect man to settle down with.

How hard could it be? It would be as easy as pretending I knew what the fuck I was doing, as if I knew anything about relationships or finding the right man. The time, dedication, and effort needed to be put into all of that was something I struggled with. Time wastes away in my life. Dedication never made root as everything else was uninteresting.

"Are you hungry?" I didn't know if my voice sounded husky when I said that, but how fucked up was it to say something and be thinking about another thing?

             Millie smiled at me, just as she had done at the bar, and just as I had imagined she would when we met again. I wanted to kiss those lips again, the way I fantasized each night. Fuck. The blood rushed straight down to my dick.