My throat went dry. "What do you want?"
"We have to talk about last night." His tone was clipped.
"No, we don't. Last night should never have happened and?—"
"I disagree. Do you like the flowers?" His abrupt change of subject threw me for a moment. I couldn't keep up.
It wasn't simply a polite question. He seemed to genuinely care if I liked them. My heart twisted for a moment but then I wondered, did he really care? Or was he just pretending?
"Honestly, I wish you hadn't sent them. Bleeding hearts mean something to me and I think you know that. It isn't right to use them as a cheap trick to get me into bed."
"I don't need to send you flowers to get you into my bed, O'Connell." I bristled at his arrogance. He'd avoided the point. "So, what's the answer?"
"The answer to what?"
"Just how long do you think it'll take for you to come once I'm inside you?"
My throat closed up and I slammed the phone down, feeling stupid for letting him get the better of me. There was no way to compete with that level of seduction—I'd have been done for. I hated that arrogant, condescending…
My phone chirped, cutting off my internal rant.
I have to see you again.
A.
I shot back a reply.
Not going to happen.
Rejecting him was so much easier when I couldn't see or hear him.
Yes it is, Lola. It's inevitable. You're overwhelmed, it's natural to want to run, but I won't allow it. Meet me tonight.
A.
No.I pressed send and his reply was immediate.
Infuriating woman. Why the fuck not?
A.
Why not? Could he really be this dense? I sat back in my chair, trying to decide how honest I should be. I figured bluntness was the way to go, he didn't seem like a subtle kind of man.
Because I actually don't like you very much. You're arrogant, entitled, and have a complete disregard for other people's feelings. People like you aren't people I want to spend time with.
Long minutes ticked by before I got a response and I was starting to worry that I was being too harsh. It hadn't occurred to me that he would care what I thought of him.
People like me? You'll notice that I haven't judged you because of your financial or social status which I think we can both agree is far beneath my own. You don't know me, O'Connell, but you want to. You don't like me, but you want me. You're conflicted but you will agree to see me again.
A.
I fumed at my phone screen, wishing I could reach through it and throttle him. Beneath him, was I? Beneath him is where he wanted me and the man was willing to say anything to get me there.
Mr Tell, if I am going to work for you as you said last night then dating of any kind would be unprofessional. I'm simply not interested in jeopardizing my job for someone like you. In other words, back the hell off.
I sent the text with a slam of my thumb. The bright pink beauty of the bleeding hearts gleamed at me, showing off their amorous charm. I fought the urge to throw them in the bin.
I notice you still haven't answered my original question. Sooner or later I'll find out for myself. I'm going to fuck you,O'Connell. Not today and probably not tomorrow, but it's going to happen and when it does, I'll pound you until your knees buckle and your voice gives out from screaming in pleasure. And when I'm done, you'll beg me to take you again. And I will, because deep down, I think I could be a good man.