Chapter Five

 

My lips were swollen, my body hot—gods, I needed more. But where the fuck did he go?

“Matthew!” I called.

He was at the door, his broad frame blocking it like a wall, talking to a man I didn’t recognize.

“What do you think you’re doing, Matthew?” the man’s voice was low, gravelly.

“Mind your own business, Carlos,” Matthew growled, that dangerous edge in his tone sending a shiver through me.

“You think I don’t know who you’ve got in there?”

So… he knew me? I swayed toward the doorway, pushing it open. Matthew tried to pull me back, but I shook him off.

“I can stand,” I snapped. Then, with all the condescension I could muster, I looked Carlos dead in the eye. “We’re in the middle of something here asshole, so maybe… fuck off.”

Matthew chuckled, but Carlos just glared harder.

“And do you know who you’re in the middle of something with, Miss Patel?”

Why does everyone know my name?

“It’s Matthew,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Matthew Foster,” he clarified, like I’d just missed the punchline.

The name rang a bell, but the alcohol made the connection fuzzy. I leaned into Matthew, clinging to his warmth. “Sooooo?”

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re both drunk. Are you sure you’re not about to do something you’ll regret? Miss Mia, why haven’t you been in a relationship for six years?”

“Because men are scum” I stated then realization hit me, I let go of Matthew like he was hot iron, the alcohol cleared from my senses and the fears returned what the fuck are am I doing?

I went to pick up my bag from the table and started moving to the door Matthew blocked the door “where are you going” he demanded, his name suddenly popped in my mind  Matthew Foster, of course I danced and almost hooked up with a billionaire

I pulled away from him like his touch burned. Fear surged through the alcohol haze. What was I thinking?

Grabbing my bag, I headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” His voice was sharp, commanding.

“Home,” I said, moving to sidestep him. He blocked me, moving with predatory precision.

“We’re not done here,” he said, and the authority in his tone made something deep inside me want to obey, I made the mistake of looking down and by eyes came in contact with the huge tent formed on his trousers. I flushed exactly why I needed to leave.

“Your friend is right, Mr. Foster. I don’t want anything to do with men and definitely not with you.”

His low growl followed me out, but I didn’t look back. I walked fast, heart pounding, and didn’t breathe until I was behind the wheel. Then I drove like the night itself was chasing me.

I pulled into the driveway and stepped inside, the familiar scent of my home doing little to settle my restless mind. I went straight for the shower, but even the cold water couldn’t cool the heat coursing through me. Mortification, shame, and an unshakable pull tangled together inside my chest. Dressed in something loose and comfortable, I sank onto my bed, my thoughts shamelessly circling back to what had happened and what I might have let happen. I told myself to stop, to push it away, but my mind refused to obey.

 The memory kept replaying, relentless, as if determined to carve itself into me. I prayed tomorrow would dull it, but tonight, s for now my hand went under my clothes and caressed my thighs imagining it was Matthew going higher and higher until his fingers brushed my clit, I gasped fuck why did it feel so good. I couldn’t stop myself, I continued remembering how good my name sounded in his mouth, how good his tongue felt in my mouth, how his kisses made my legs weak oh fuck. My hand went to wet my entrance and imagined him towering over me, trapping my body with his and digging his fingers inside my pussy telling me how tight I was, how he would stretch me perfectly for him. I covered my mouth to muffle my moans though I was the only one in the house while I fingered myself to fantasies containing Matthew Foster until I came. Oh gods I fucking came.

I lay wide-eyed in the dark, heart pounding too loudly for the silence. My mind replayed the night in a shameful blur until I flung the covers aside and rushed into the bathroom. The water was scalding, but I scrubbed as if I could erase the memory from my skin. Clean, yet still tainted, I stripped the bed and replaced the sheets, hoping for a fresh start.

Lying down, I tried to banish him from my thoughts, his face, his voice, the way his presence clung like a shadow. Frustrated, I grabbed my phone and searched for him on I*******m. Nothing. No posts, no trace just emptiness that somehow felt worse.

I tossed the phone aside and hid beneath the blanket until sleep finally claimed me.

The next morning, I woke up far too late, fuck I had work. I took a quick bath and got ready in a rush, throwing on whatever clothes I could grab. I drove like a maniac; I had work to do, and I definitely did not want to give my pathetic excuse of a boss any reason to drag me into his office alone.

 

When I finally got to the office, I was convinced I was fired—everyone kept staring and whispering. Gladys, a co-worker, pulled me aside.

“Why haven’t you been picking your frigging calls?” she demanded, excitement written all over her face.

“I overslept. What’s going on?”

“See for yourself,” she said, handing me her phone.

On the screen was footage of—fuck!—Matthew Foster.

In the video, he declared himself the new CEO of Rensons Corporation and, as if that wasn’t enough, announced he was officially here to court Mia Patel—ME.