Page 21 of Cherished Lands
She tutted impatiently, and I wanted nothing more than to punish her for it.
"I don't have your number, you ass. Which reminds me..." She fished her phone out of her purse, unlocked the screen, and thrust it toward me. "Here."
I grabbed the phone and glanced at it like it might bite me. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Oh my god, Elliot. Please keep up. Put your number in." Her exasperation turned me on.Fuck, that's weird.
"What if I don't want you to have my number?"
"Seriously? As you so helpfully pointed out, we're business partners. We will need to communicate. Regularly." She drummed her fingers against her hip. The motion drew my attention back to curves I'd been trying not to stare at.
"Fine." I added my contact information to her phone and handed it back to her.
"Well that just won't do," she said, eyeing the screen. She started typing, her perfect mouth elongated the syllables as she entered them. "Paul... Bunyan. There. Much better."
"You are so annoying."
She smiled sweetly and batted her long lashes before spinning on her heel and exiting the barn.
She'd been here for no more than ten minutes, but I was exhausted. Because when it came to sparring with Tessa Belmonte, I was still losing.
Chapter Eight
TESSA
My panties were soaked.
My nipples were hard.
My skin was on fire.
A riot of thoughts and emotions swirled in my head. I plucked one out and began dissecting it.
"Elliot Everton is the sexiest man alive." I spoke the words into the cold interior of my SUV. Despite being entirely alone, giving a voice to concepts I had only everthoughtbefore was cathartic.
I was thirty-one and single, in part because no man had ever been able to give me what I wanted—what I craved. Until Elliot. He had been rough and commanding yet still tender, in his own way. And the dirty talk.Lord.
None of the men I'd dated in the past appreciated my particular brand of snark and confidence.
I would have lumped Elliot right along with them. But tonight, he'd come to play. It may have taken him a couple weeks to catch up, but better late than never.
I was playing with fire, though. I'd already secretly gone into business withthe enemy. Literally getting in bed with the competition felt like a step too far. My parents were already likely to cut me off financially. I didn't need them to disown me too.
I needed to tell them what I'd done, but I'd been putting it off. I wasn't ashamed to admit that I was a little nervous about how it would all go down.
So tonight, I'd play nice at their charity fundraiser—the doting daughter, happy to go along with all their archaic ideals.
I pulled up to the Ashford Country Club, and a valet opened my door.
"Ms. Belmonte, welcome back."
"Thank you," I replied, handing him the keys. He offered me his other hand to help me hop out of the car. I sucked in a lungful of cold winter air and steeled my spine.
Two staff members opened the double doors for me to enter the club, and I stepped through the main lobby and into the ballroom. I'd never liked this place. The crystal chandeliers dripped with pretension, and the same tired holiday decorations adorned every surface—garlands and ribbons arranged just so.
A server glided past with a tray of champagne flutes. I snagged one, downing half in one gulp. Scanning the room, I spotted my parents deep in conversation with Marcus Chen. He was one of our long-time industry contacts, who currently sat on the board of the American Society of Agronomy.
I made my way over. Mom's perfectly coiffed head tilted back in practiced laughter at something Marcus said.
