Outwait Page 8

  I was sixteen, and it was the summer between my sophomore and junior year. I was on the football team, Kelsey was a cheerleader, and it seemed natural for us to get together. She had a crush on me, and I wanted to lose my virginity. We weren’t even technically going out, as we called it back then.

  It was in her bed in her parents’ house. They were at work for the day. We had the house to ourselves, yet we still chose the bed. It was the first time for both of us. She kept saying it hurt, but it sure as fuck didn’t hurt me. I’d stop and start again, checking to make sure she was okay, which really only prolonged my own release. We didn’t know what we were doing back then, but it was good for a first time. I have no regrets and no bad memories about it.

  I wasn’t really interested in her beyond that one day, though. It didn’t seem right to lead her on—even to a sixteen-year-old who was about to embark on the journey toward the title of player.

  I didn’t actually learn how to fuck well until a girl I dated in college. I wouldn’t call it a relationship, exactly, because we didn’t really do anything other than fuck. She showed me what she liked, I showed her what I liked, and together we learned a lot about the opposite sex. What we had, though, never really moved out of the bedroom.

  The yoga girl at Miller’s last week flashes through my mind. She literally bent over backward to get me into bed, and while I did eventually give in and it was fine, it wasn’t as satisfying as usual. I left Miller’s place feeling empty, and that’s never happened to me before.

  Never.

  It all started the day I met Sylvie. I blame her fully for this drought.

  She keeps sneaking her way into my thoughts even a week later, and she’s the first thought on my mind this morning. Again.

  I figured after a day or two passed, the fascination would weaken. Instead, it’s getting stronger.

  There are layers to her. She cares about things. She’s passionate. She’s fiery. The word beautiful doesn’t do her justice.

  All this after being with her for a few hours.

  Honestly, I spent more time with her than I did with the yoga girl I ultimately fucked last week. I got to know Sylvie on a different level—the parts she allowed me to see, anyway. I can’t help but wonder about the parts I didn’t get to see, like what was under her dress.

  I thought about going to the airport that morning she left. I thought about waiting outside the Park Hyatt until she walked out to catch a cab to the airport. I thought about texting or calling just to check on her.

  But I don’t even know her. It’s not my right to call her to check on her or to show up unannounced at her hotel.

  It’s William’s.

  I don’t know what I want with her, but I know she’s worth more than one night. I just want the chance to see what it’s like to kiss her, to see her outside of a business dinner, to sink my dick into her warmth.

  Just like I’m going to go in to take over the company, this William clown better get ready to protect what’s his, because I may go in for Sylvie while I’m at it.

  No woman has ever caught my attention for longer than one night. I call it WADD—Women Attention Deficit Disorder. My attention span is short when it comes to women, always has been. I get what I want, and then I see a squirrel—or, as the case may be, another woman—and I take my proverbial nut to a new hideout. Maybe the same thing will happen once I land Sylvie—and I will land Sylvie—or maybe it won’t.

  What if she’s the ultimate prize, the last one standing after I wade through the discard pile?

  A wife and kids always seemed like it would happen some time far into the future. I never pictured my twilight years alone—surely someday someone would come along that would be right after all these women who’ve been wrong. I never saw it happening any time soon, but I look to my brother and my cousin who are both happily settled down with wives and kids, and I wonder if my future could look the same. I didn’t think it was something I wanted, but there’s a lot going on in my life that I never wanted.

  I thought I had it all figured out, but I’m starting to realize that’s not true. I don’t know what I want, but maybe Sylvie has the answers.

  One fucking night—that’s all it took to completely warp every single sensibility I have.

  *

  Today is an endless drudge of monotony. Sign this contract, review that resume, sit in a meeting, answer an email, feign interest, think about Sylvie. Send an email to the wrong person, miss a different meeting, mistake one interviewee for another. Fuck up some other shit at work. Think about Sylvie.

  I think about her lips for what seems like the millionth time since I first saw them. What would they feel like against mine? Sex aside—because of course I wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around my cock—what would they feel like beneath the pad of my thumb or pressed to my jaw?

  Is my interest in her just about the challenge? While I’ve always conquered any challenge set before me, I didn’t conquer her that night over a week ago. Still, I’m not convinced this is just about the challenge.

  I’m staring out my window over the New York City skyline when Lauren knocks on my doorframe. I glance over at her.

  “Your four o’clock with Harold to finalize the sponsorships is in the boardroom. Your dad will be there, too.”

  I nod once and turn my attention back to the skyline. “Anything else?”

  “The Fennel and Bardswell networking event is tonight at seven.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is everything okay with you, Carson?” she asks.

  I turn my attention back to her and shrug.

  She presses her lips together in a sympathetic smile. “Girl trouble?”

  I chuckle. “Something like that.”

  “I’m your assistant, boss. If you need help with anything, even that stuff, I’m here to help.”

  I give her a small smile. “Thanks. I really do appreciate that.”

  “I know a little something about that stuff, you know.” She smiles ruefully. “Probably something to do with all the experience, but I’ve landed the right one. It took some work, but it’s always worth it.”

  “You’re good at your job, Lauren. I don’t tell you that enough.”

  She grins. “I know, but thanks for saying it anyway.”

  I laugh.

  “I won’t press, but I’m here to assist you in any way you need it.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” I say the words, but there’s so little conviction behind them that even I’m not convinced they’re true.

  She eyes me for a minute as if she can read my thoughts, and then she turns to go.

  “She has a boyfriend.”

  She pauses and then turns back to me. “Is it serious?”

  I shrug. “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters. Boyfriend, girlfriend, it’s all just experimenting with different people until you find the right one. If there’s a ring on her finger, that’s a big, fat no, but if there’s not? Well, then you’ve got a shot.”

  “I hardly know her.”

  She shrugs. “Life’s about getting to know people. I’m still learning things about my husband, and we’ve been married for three years.”

  “She lives in San Diego.”

  She shrugs again. “So?”

  “It’s not convenient.”

  She huffs out a laugh. “Nothing about love ever is.”

  “When did you get so smart?”

  She folds her arms and leans on the doorframe. “Look, boss. Clearly you’re off your game. It happens to all of us, but in the six months I’ve been working for you, I can honestly say it’s never happened to you. You’ve never had a bad day, an off day. You demand perfection of yourself and everyone around you, but something’s been different these past few days. You’re unfocused, and I think it’s this girl you’re thinking about.”

  I open my mouth to object, but she forges ahead.

  “Whoever she is and wherever she is, you need to at least see if yo
u’ve got a shot. Boyfriend or not, she’s done something to you, and you either need to get over it or get under it.” She winks at me and straightens.

  “I just met her a week ago and I’m staging a hostile takeover of her father’s company which she just happens to work for as well.” I blurt it out before I can stop myself.

  “Oh, shit.” She covers her mouth with her hands and looks supremely embarrassed. “I’m so sorry for my language.”

  I chuckle. I’ve never heard her cuss. “It’s okay.”

  She steps into my office and flops into one of the chairs that faces my desk. “You just met her and she’s got you this messed up?”

  I shrug. I suppose if someone on the outside can tell something’s going on with me, it must be serious. “Is it really that obvious?”

  “You came in late yesterday and today, you missed a meeting, you emailed the wrong person, you called the interviewee the wrong name, you put confidential information in a staff-wide email—I’d say your mind is elsewhere.”

  “My mind is always elsewhere.”

  “Be that as it may, it’s never led you to make the types of mistakes you’ve made the past couple days.”

  I nod. “You’re right. I’ll be back on top of things tomorrow. I just need a day.” I find myself very affected by situations in the moment, but after a couple of days, things cool and calmer heads prevail. I’m certain that’s all this is.

  It’s nice to tell myself that, but the issue is that it’s actually already been a couple of days, and everything’s just getting worse when I expected to be over her by now.

  “You have to talk to her.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve been with a different woman at every event you’ve attended in the last six months. Don’t you think it’s worth pursuing the one woman who’s captured your attention for longer than one night?”

  “She’s not interested.”

  “Carson, everyone knows your parents’ story.”

  I roll my eyes. Here we go. “I’m not my parents; I don’t believe in fairytales—unless they’re dirty.”

  She laughs. “But your parents got married two months after they met. They fell in love literally at first sight—both of them. Your brother got married a few months after meeting his wife. Don’t you think maybe that gene got passed along to you, too?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I really don’t.”

  She shrugs. “What’ll it take for you to believe in what they have if their lifelong example doesn’t convince you?”

  “I believe in what they have. That doesn’t mean it’ll happen for me that way.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” she concedes. “But it could.”

  “Go get back to work.”

  She laughs and stands. “I will. Just think about it.” She starts for the door but stops and turns back to me before she steps through it. “Maybe she’s with someone else right now, but maybe she’s worth waiting for. If you two are supposed to be together, something will eventually break them up. Or, maybe you should do something to show her she should be with you.”

  “So you’re suggesting I just need to outplay the boyfriend?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m suggesting you need to outwait him.”

  Outwait him.

  I just wonder how long it’ll take…and whether it’ll be worth the wait.

  CHAPTER 12

  CARSON

  Cal, our VP of marketing, would be much better suited for this event. It’s a networking opportunity and our company needs representation, but I don’t have time for this shit.

  What’s worse is that I don’t have time for Heather.

  She’s the girl I fucked the night before I went to San Diego—the one who hinted over text message that she wants more than a few fun nights.

  She’s at this event, too, and she’s monopolizing my time. I don’t want to be a dick to her. She’s a nice girl, really, and we’ve had some fun times together, but when I think about Sylvie and those pillow lips, I can’t help but think that there’s not even a comparison to be drawn.

  Heather is droning on about EduTech, a new company based in San Bernardino who is pushing their products on schools, as if I’ve never heard of them. I’ve not only heard of them, I’ve spoken to their CEO and have my legal team in negotiations with theirs.

  But all that’s confidential, obviously. I nod along like what she’s telling me is new information. Heather looks hot in her black dress that’s cut a little too low to really be considered professional. She’s sexy, and I already know she’s a minx in the bedroom. Sylvie’s modest dress comes to mind. Heather is hot and she knows it, and she’s showing off her assets as part of her own marketing plan.

  Sylvie, on the other hand, doesn’t need to do that. She didn’t need her tits spilling out the top of her dress to prove she’s sexy. She didn’t need skin-tight material hugging sweetly over her ass to prove she’s a worthy business adversary. Even in her discreet dress, she still caught my attention—maybe even more than Heather ever did. I never thought I’d like a buttoned-up outfit that left so much to my imagination, but I have to admit, my imagination is running wild.

  It has been since I first spotted her.

  What are her tits like when her blouse is on the ground? Are her nipples big and round? Or are they small buds begging for my lips? What does her body look like? Is she waxed clean? Does she have a landing strip or a poof of hair? I’ve seen it all, and somehow I know that however my mind sees it could never do justice to her in the flesh.

  I think about what Lauren said earlier. To be fair, she said a lot of things, but one of those things has been eating at me since she said it: Maybe you should do something to show her she should be with you.

  As soon as Heather pauses for a breath, I excuse myself. I head straight for the bar, and while I’m in line, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check my calendar. I have events scheduled tomorrow and Friday, but neither of them seem as important as what I need to do. Lauren can clear my meetings and reschedule whatever’s going on for the next couple of days, and someone else can attend the events in my place. I don’t care who; Lauren can figure it out.

  I’m going to San Diego.

  It’s easy to say I’m going because I have business there; it’s not false. I could even visit Carter and Axel while I’m there.

  But that’s not why I’m going, and the first step is admitting that to myself. I need to see her again.

  I shoot off a text to my brother.

  Me: I’ll be in SD tomorrow through Sunday. Would love to find time to see everyone.

  His reply doesn’t come right away, but I don’t really expect it to. I text Lauren next.

  Me: Get me a flight to San Diego tomorrow early. Return Sunday late.

  Lauren: Yes! I knew it! You sure you want a Sunday return? Maybe an open ticket?

  Me: Just do your job.

  Lauren: Yes sir. You need anything else? Hotel?

  I’m sure Carter will invite me to stay with them, but a hotel would be quieter.

  I usually stay in hotels so I can bring women back with me without disturbing them. It’s strange that my first thought as to why I want to stay in a hotel isn’t because of that.

  Me: Yes on hotel.

  Lauren: You got it. Do you know where she lives? I can book the hotel close to her.

  Me: Book the Hyatt.

  Lauren: Consider it done.

  Me: I’ll also need you to cancel and reschedule anything important.

  Lauren: I’m on it, boss.

  My arm suddenly feels warm, and it’s because Heather’s tits are pressed to my side. “Can I cut the line?” she asks, her voice sultry.

  Man, she really didn’t take the hint when I ran away from her a few minutes ago. I slide my phone into my pocket, content with my new plan.

  Lauren’s right. I need to do something to show Sylvie she should be with me. I’m not exactly sure what that means quite yet, but it surely doesn’t mean sitting at home id
ly while she progresses in her relationship with the lawyer. If anything, I need to get out there so at least I’m on her mind again.

  God knows she hasn’t left mine since she flew into the boardroom last week.

  “You know what? You can take my spot,” I say to Heather. I give her a smile, walk a few steps ahead to place my empty drink on the bar, and bolt out of this stupid event without even turning back to see Heather’s disappointment. I put in my time, and now it’s time to go home, get shit in order since I’ll be out of the office for the next couple of days, and pack my bag.

  CHAPTER 13

  CARSON

  First class or coach doesn’t matter if the plane’s tumbling to the ground at upwards of six hundred miles per hour. It’s an irrational fear, I know. Flying is one of the safest forms of travel, but that doesn’t change the fact that a tiny tube is holding two hundred people hostage in the air for five hours.

  The landing is the worst part, though it should be the best—it means the flight is over, but it’s also when the plane jumps a little as we hit the ground going faster than any speed limit allows.

  I hate this irrational fear of mine. I love cars. I love driving fast. I got a sweet Aston Martin up faster than this fucking plane’s ground speed out on a country road just last month.

  But put me on a plane and watch me pale with nerves as I grip my armrest until my fingers hurt.

  Once the plane comes to a complete stop and the fasten seatbelt sign goes dark, relief washes over me.

  When I finally get the girl, one of us is going to have to move, because this back-and-forth-across-the-country shit isn’t going to work for me.

  I shake that thought out of my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m suddenly this sappy prick over some girl I don’t even know.

  All I know is that she spoke to me on a different level than any woman has ever spoken to me, and I have to see her again. I have to know if what I felt from our few hours together is real or if it’s some crazy shit my brain dreamed up.

  I can’t believe I’m actually here. I came on a whim with no real plan.