“Yeah, hold on. I’ve got an extra one in my office, but it’s going to be about six sizes too big.”
“Better than nothing,” she says optimistically.
What a sweetheart. The phone in my hand buzzes again. “Shit, I think it’s your dad. Do you want me to talk to him?”
She rushes forward. “No. He probably wants me to pick something up for him when I leave here.” She sighs after reviewing her messages. "I need to pick up a gift for Mimi. That's his current girlfriend.”
I don't like that her dad is stressing her out. I'm going to have to do something about that. "We'll pick something up on the way home."
"Home?"
"You're coming home with me." It's not up for debate.
"Oh, well, okay." Her mood immediately brightens and she disappears into the bathroom.
Did she think I was going to abandon her? That I was going to fuck her and send her on her way? She gave herself to me and now I get to keep her. It's wrong to be with a woman her age. She should be dating men her own age—ones who carry their skateboard in the backpacks and stand outside in the cold down in Soho waiting for the latest streetwear to drop. She should not be with a man old enough to be her father.
Yet…she wants me. And I'm not giving that up.
CHAPTER 9
WILLOW
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a hairdryer,” Con murmurs, running his fingers along my damp ponytail as we ride uptown in an expensive sedan chauffeured by a quiet guy named Ben to get the “pampering supplies” as Con put it.
I nestle closer to his broad chest and run a hand over his chiseled abs. Even through the crisp cotton, his definition is obvious. Old man, my ass. I don’t know any guys my age that have a body as sculpted as Con’s. “That’s okay. I’m kind of glad that you don’t have a bunch of supplies in your private bathroom. It tells me that you aren’t having a lot of encounters with women there.”
It hurts to think about all the women he’s had since I saw that woman in the cloakroom throwing herself at him willing to give him whatever her wanted. I don’t know if he had taken her up on the offer but I’m not naïve enough to believe that he’s been celibate all these years. Seeing him exasperated because he didn’t have a bunch of feminine supplies around his private bathroom filled me with a lot of joy.
At least I was the only one who’d been screwed hard enough in his office to require the use of his shower. And, he’d turned that one lady away. I take comfort in that.
“There aren’t any other women and haven’t been for some time,” he says.
“Right,” I snort.
“It’s true.”
The words are spoken with such quiet conviction that I have to sit up and look Con in the face. He stares solemnly back at me. “The only orgasms I’ve had since the night I first saw you in the cloakroom have been alone and with my own hand.” I thought maybe he’d gone home with her that night.
My jaw drops in surprise. “I don’t believe you.”
He places a finger under my chin and pushes gently upward, leaning in to drop a tender kiss against my lips. It’s a quiet, sweet admonishment, but a rebuke nonetheless.
“I’m not a liar, kitten. My word is my bond. I’ve not touched another woman since that time and a while even before that. I wanted only one girl in my bed, but I couldn’t have you because you were too young.” He rubs his thumb across my lip. “Still are.”
I sit forward and press my lips against his to shut him up this time. “I’m the perfect age for you.” I tell him, drawing back long enough to take a breath.
Ben’s voice comes over the intercom before Con can argue with me. “We’re here at Bergdorf’s, sir. Do you want me to stop or drive around?”
"Bergdorf's?" I gasp, jerking the lapels of my coat close around me. "I can't go to Bergdorf's looking like this!"
"Why?"
"Because I look…" I flap the sides of the jacket in dismay.
"Fucking hot?"
"No." But a pleased smile flits over my mouth. "I look a mess. My hair is still wet. I'm naked under your shirt and my skirt looks like it sat in the bottom of my purse all day."
"You look beautiful and if anyone says otherwise, they'll deal with me." His voice is matter-of-fact, as if he can crush anyone who would dare say a bad word about me. He presses a button at his side. “Pull around to 58th Street, Ben. The sales associate told me to go to the delivery entrance.”
“The delivery entrance?” I ask. That seems odd.
Con shrugs. “What do I know. Tim’s always saying he’s going to Bergdorf’s whenever he buys presents so I gave them a call and told them I needed some help.”