Page 10 of It Destroys Me
I had a flashback to my old life, when Bolton would be gone for days and couldn’t call or text. Said it could compromise his mission. But once he actually cared about our marriage, he suddenly had the time to call and text. Suddenly had time to make me feel important. Theo had always made me feel like a priority from the moment I met him. I knew it was stupid to risk my heart for a man who basically told me the chances of a happily ever after were slim to none, but he was one hell of a man—and I’d play any odds to have him.
He turned to look at me.
My mind was still in a haze, thinking about the past, the present, and the unlikely future.
“Is it always this slow?”
“Yeah. I send a newsletter to our existing clients about our new collections, and they generally buy stuff that way. Their assistants will come by and pick it up, or I’ll deliver it. Foot traffic is practically nonexistent. If anyone comes in, it’s usually in the morning.”
“What do you do the rest of the time?”
“Respond to emails. Dust. Stuff like that.”
“Why don’t you paint?”
I wondered if he still had my easel and paint supplies, if his butler had tossed them or they were stored in the basement or an extra closet. “I can’t really do that here.”
“If it’s as slow as you say, may as well put your time to good use.”
“My boss doesn’t pay me to pursue my hobbies.”
“If you’re still as productive as you were before, what does it matter if you paint or scroll on your phone in the meantime?”
“Do you let your men pursue their interests while they’re on the clock?”
“They fuck and drink,” he said. “So, I think so.”
He always pushed for me to pursue my dream even though I wasn’t very good at it. But I was also touched that he didn’t give up, that he cared whether I was fulfilled or unsatisfied.
He took the last bite of his sandwich then wiped away the oil and crumbs with a napkin stuffed in the bag. He turned his attention back to the blank wall as he continued to squeeze the napkin around his fingers until there was nothing left. Then he just sat there…staring like he saw a painting.
The distraction worked in my favor because I got to stare at him. Study the shadow under his chin like it was cast by Mt. Vesuvius. Follow the rivers in his neck, the veins that carried his life-force from his muscles back to his heart. He had a hard jawline that looked like the edge of a cliff. If someone could capture this moment with a paintbrush and hang it on the wall, I would work my entire life to afford it.
Several minutes went by before he turned back to look at me.
I usually looked away once I’d been caught, but this time, I didn’t. We were in a public place, a business open to anyone, but I felt isolated from the rest of the world—like it was just the two of us.
There was no reason for him to stay, but he lingered as if we had unfinished business. The last line of the contract was unsigned. The final boarding call for the flight had been called over the speakers, but we remained idle in our chairs. We had no purpose to be there together, but he conjured one from nowhere—and in silence.
I left my chair and walked past him.
He remained in his chair and didn’t follow me, a man so confident that he knew a woman would never walk away.
I turned the sign that hung on the door, flipping it from open to closed. Then I twisted the lock, trying to do it as gently as possible so Theo wouldn’t hear the click in the gallery. Not that I should feel embarrassed for wanting him…but for wanting him so badly that I didn’t hesitate to close the place down.
When I came back, he was exactly as I’d left him, taking up the armchair with his big size, arms down on the armrests. There wasn’t a flash of arrogance in his eyes, a knowing smirk. He stared at me as intently as he did before.
He was the one who always made the first move. Was always on top. Ran the bedroom like a boardroom.
But now, I was the one who wanted to call the shots.
I lowered myself in front of him, the thick rug cushioning my knees like a pillow. I felt my heart leap when I saw his reaction, how he drew in a quick breath of excitement, the way his eyes darkened in intensity. I wanted to make him feel wanted, but he was the one who made me feel wanted.
My hands slid up his rock-hard legs to the waistband of his jeans underneath his shirt. I felt for the metal button before I popped it open then tugged down the zipper so his cock could be free. It was hidden under his black boxers, but the definition was so distinct it was like a log just beneath the surface of a lake. My fingers tugged into his boxers and slowly pulled them down.
He lifted his hips to aid me, to help me get his bottoms the rest of the way off.
Inch by inch, his hard dick was revealed, the throbbing vein going from the tip down to the base. It was intimidating every time I saw it, but I wouldn’t change a single thing about him. Just before I began my descent to press my lips to his length, his command halted me.