Chapter 7

7

JJ

That was yesterday. I'm not sure if I should be pissed off at her for sneaking a peek at me as I jerked off, or if I should be pissed off at myself for finding the entire incident so hot. But then, I am one depraved motherfucker. On the other hand, I've never brought my sexual proclivities to my house. So what if I live alone? This is the house my kids grew up in, and as long as they were around, I ensured no woman ever came home with me. I've kept my tendencies to outside my place of residence. Believe it or not, I've never before jerked off in my own home. I didn't need to. There are enough women to bed outside the house to keep my sex drive satisfied. This month of being celibate, by chance, is definitely playing havoc with my libido, especially considering I'm still turned on this morning as I drink my tea and stare at the garden from the kitchen window.

"Good morning," a chirpy voice greets me.

I turn to find Lena walking into the kitchen. She's wearing heels which help snap back her shoulders and her butt, her suit jacket is conservative and buttoned in the front... But her skirt? It comes to just above her knees, which is perfectly acceptable. But the fabric is cut so it clings to her thighs, and there's a slit up one side that opens to reveal the smooth, brown skin of her thigh before pulling back together and covering it up again. Fucking hell, I bet she wore it just to taunt me.

She keeps her back turned to me as she reaches the counter. She glances around, then leans down to pull out a drawer below the counter. The skirt stretches tight across the perfectly lush curves of her butt. And just like that, I'm erect again. Jesus Christ, can't I control myself around this woman at all?

"What are you looking for?" I snap.

She stiffens, then draws to her full height before turning to face me. "Who pissed in your coffee?" She scowls.

I'd like to piss on you, actually. A-n-d, moving on swiftly. "There's tea. You're in England, remember?" I raise my cup, toast her, then take another sip.

"You drink tea in the morning?" Her features are creased in an expression of horror.

"What about it?"

"And from a cup and saucer?" She glances at said objects in fascination.

"So?" I drain the cup and place it on the saucer, then pull up the cuff of my sleeve to glance at my watch. "It's getting late. Let's chat on the way."

"But coffee?—"

"Make sure you get down here earlier if you want to get your fix." I grab my briefcase from the island and turn toward the door.

"It's barely seven," she protests.

"It's three minutes past seven, actually, and I'm already late." I stalk toward the door and hear the clip-clop of her heels against the wooden floor as she rushes to keep up with me. I don't slow my steps. Not because I'm a sadist—well, not this time anyway—but because I'm not going to make this easy on her. If it were anyone else in that role, they wouldn't get concessions, so I don't see why I need to bend the rules for her. Just because she's my son's girlfriend— fuck, she's my son's girlfriend.

A crater seems to open up in my chest. She's not mine. She belongs to someone else, and not just anyone else, but my own son. The same son I've been estranged from for years, and with whom I've thought I'd never have a chance to mend our relationship. I need to keep my eyes and my hands off of her.

What happened last night was a one-off. An incident I need to move on from. Only, I can't pretend it didn't happen at all. Not when jerking off to her brought me to orgasm in a way being with other women never has.

I stalk toward the entrance of the house and walk out. I take the steps two at a time, aware that she's on my heels. I reach the bottom just as Leo, my chauffeur, drives up with my car. I open the door, and turn in time to see her trip on the last step. I move so fast my feet don't seem to touch the ground and catch her. Her soft curves seem to melt into me. Her scent—strawberry and passionfruit— fills my lungs. My throat closes. My cock lengthens. Every inch of my body seems to light up like it's the Fourth-of-July and Christmas rolled into one. Fucking fuck.

I place her aside, holding onto her shoulder until I'm sure she's steady on her feet. She shoves her hair from her face and her fingers tremble. The feel of her shoulder is permanently etched into my fingertips. The air between us seems to sizzle with unspoken emotions. She draws in a shaky breath and so do I. The silence stretches for a beat, another. It's she who recovers first, while I stay frozen like a teenager caught in the proximity of his first crush.

"Thanks," she murmurs, not meeting my eyes, then brushes past me. Like a fool I take in another deep inhale of her scent, before she slides inside the car with a flash of her luscious thighs. She pulls her legs in and I close the door, then walk around and seat myself next to her.

I raise the partition between the driver's seat and the passenger seat. She glances at me then away as Leo eases the car forward.

We drive in silence for a few seconds, then she clears her throat. "Do you always leave for your office this early?"

"I'm late today, in deference to you joining me. Starting tomorrow, we leave at 6 a.m."

"What the—?" She swivels to face me. "Why do you bother coming back home? Even you?—"

She takes in the smirk on my face and her features redden. "Haha, very funny." She scoffs.

"You're easy to get a rise out of," I admit.

"So, you do leave for work at this time every day?"

"Not for the last few days. I was busy helping Massimo rescue his wife, who'd been taken by the man she'd been promised to before Massimo came along and married her."

"Eh?" Her gaze widens. "Did all that happen, for real?"

"Afraid so. When you're in a position of power, you're bound to rub people the wrong way. People who then take revenge by hurting those close to you. That's why it pays to make common cause with those who's enemies are the same as yours."

"So, you're in an organized crime group?"

"Would it make a difference to you if I said I was?"

She appears to think it over then shakes her head. "Frankly, no. You are the CEO of your business and a rich man. You couldn't have gotten to that level without bending the law at some point."

I tilt my head. "Astute observation. Apparently, you're not just another pretty face."

She flushes. "That's a very chauvinistic remark. I look good, so it automatically means I can't think for myself, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

I raise my hands. "All I meant was that was an insightful remark for someone as young as you."

"Don't be fooled by my youth. I was born wiser than my years."

My lips twitch. "That's why you turned and ran after you came across me last night?"

She flushes, then dips her head so her thick auburn hair falls over her face. "That was different," she coughs.

"How is it different? If you had experience, you'd have managed the situation a little more like a grown-up."

"I didn't mean to barge into your room like that. I only wanted to ask what time you planned to leave for the office today."

"And now, you're trying to change the topic."

She reddens even more, if that's possible. Her brown eyes flash at me. "I am not. I'm simply trying to explain why I walked into your room to find you?—"

"Jerking off?"

Her breath stutters, then she tips up her chin and meets my gaze. "I was going to go with wanking, but sure, we can call it jerking off."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's an easy enough question. Did you like what you saw?"

"You do realize I'm your son's girlfriend?" She swallows.

"And both of you need a roof over your heads, not to mention, the job I offered you."

"So that means you can say anything to me and I have to take it?"

I stare at her, and she firms her lips.

"You do realize, you're crossing all kinds of lines here?" she says in a low voice.

"I've crossed lines all my life, what's one more?"