Weak for Him (12 page)

The floor felt cold on my feet, so
I slid on the pink slippers and slipped down the stairs.

Surprisingly, Mr. Felton sat at
the table sipping a cup of cream-filled coffee as he read the
paper. Before making myself known, I watched how he acted when he
thought no one was looking.

Completely comfortable in his
skin, he chuckled as he read and sipped. Although it was barely
light outside, Mr. Felton dressed professionally in a brown vest,
cream dress shirt, and a checkered tie that brought out the red
hues in the browns. I realized how early his days must begin. I
supposed being the CEO of a successful sex corporation, and being
ranked as one of the sexiest men in business, wasn't
easy.

"Come in, Ms. Downs. Have a seat."
His eyes never left the newspaper.

Damn it. Busted.

Gently, he folded the newspaper in
half and then interlocked his fingers. He greeted me with a soft
smile although it never reached his eyes.

"Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm, like a baby."

"How rude of me. Would you like a
cup of coffee, or tea, even? I'll make it how I like it. You do
know the English are known for excellent coffee and tea, and for
many, many other things."

With a purpose, he stood and
walked to the kitchen. Cups tinkered together as Mr. Felton hummed
a soft tune. He hummed, too?

I couldn't help but fantasize and
replay the events of last night. The way he straddled me, and held
my wrists above my head, or the way I wanted it.

A delicate coffee cup and saucer
with a cookie scooted in front of me. Steam rose from the top and
the sweet scent of cream and sugar smelled like heaven.

"It's hot, be careful."

I picked the thin glass cup and
blew the steam from the top, then placed it back on the saucer with
a smile and a thank you. The tension pulled at the pit of my
stomach, and I wanted to talk about last night, but didn't.
Awkwardness stretched on for minutes before either of us spoke.
With hopes for a distraction, I took a small nibble from the soft,
honey-covered cookie. Sweet warmth filled my mouth, and before I
knew it, I had eaten the whole thing.

"Would you like
another?"

"Oh no, no thank you. Did you make
them?"

"Does the sun rise every morning?
It's my mother's biscuit recipe, passed down from her mother's
mother, and so on."

"Biscuit? I thought that was a
cookie."

"Not quite."

The thought of him mixing flour
and salt and sugar to create something so fulfilling, warmed
me.

"Finding a man who enjoys and
appreciates cooking is a delicacy. Maybe one day I'll share my
secrets with you. Cooking can be fun, you know."

I laughed. "I hate
cooking."

"You must have never been taught
to really cook. It's rewarding to mix different ingredients
together and create a concoction of something you want. Something
that your body needs and desires. Something that satisfies you, but
leaves you wanting more. And although you might want to share, and
others may want a bite, you know deep down inside it's best to be
greedy, and keep the secret to yourself. I don't particularly like
to share."

Lips, luscious and full, mixed
with soft, sensual words created a sexual tension that almost drove
me from my seat. I swallowed, and my pulse quickened. I couldn't
stop imaging his hands on me, touching me, teasing me, pleasing me.
We weren't talking about recipes, or biscuits. No, it was much
bigger than that.

"I'm a man who always gets what he
wants. But recently, I've found myself caught between wants and
needs, and am unsure of which path to take. Life. It's funny, isn't
it?"

He sipped his coffee and watched
me over the rim of the cup. I hesitated before I spoke, but I had
to know.

"What do you want in life,
sir?"

"A question I've yet to discover
the answer to. Now it's my turn to ask you the same."

Long eyelashes and messy hair made
up Mr. Felton. A perfect picture of poise and sex.

"I want happiness."

"It seems like a simple answer to
a simple question, but it is much deeper than that. Seems like
something is missing in your life, and you are steadily trying to
fill the void."

Ding. Ding. Ding. Is he a mind
reader?

"That may be true, but I think you
struggle with the same thing. The two of us aren't that different
from one another."

"It's not easy being this
intelligent, or good looking," he said.

Mr. Felton gathered the plates
that sat in front of us both and brought them to the kitchen. The
refrigerator closed and opened several times, and the water ran in
the sink. I leaned on the doorframe and watched him wipe the
counters, put up the flour, and rinse the dishes. He was a bit of a
Susie Homemaker. I smiled.

"What?" he asked.

"Just thinking about how domestic
you are."

"No, I will not fuck you. I'm
saving myself for marriage," he said.

"Then you'll be saving yourself
forever, won't you?"

His face turned grave. The
attitude went from happy-go-lucky to bleak in seconds.

"I'm sorry," he said, and darted
his eyes toward me before returning to the counter he wiped so
diligently. I didn't respond. There was no reason to. But the
silence pressed on, and I knew it was time to leave. I stood, and
he wiped his hands on a dishtowel and walked toward me. I
straightened instantaneously.

His thumb found my lips and he
traced the outside of them before running his fingers through my
hair and grabbing the bottom of my chin.

I waited.

I waited for him to make his move,
to kiss me, to pin me against the wall, but instead, he stared into
my eyes and then walked passed me. My heart fluttered and then
fell. The stairs acted as his getaway car to escape me. Before
taking another step, he turned around and didn't take his eyes from
me.

"You said last night that you
wanted to please me. You do, Ms. Downs. You don't even fucking
know."

I opened my mouth to speak. To
call out to him. But instead, I stood there in the kitchen. Once I
heard his door close, I exhaled.

Thirteen

I
crawled back in bed,
hoping for a do-over on the day. Too many mixed emotions bounced
around in me like constantly moving particles. I lay there for at
least an hour staring at the blank ceiling, trying to replay the
morning.

The trigger was the mention of a
marriage. Once that was said, the morning went to shit. I would
never mention that in a conversation again and made note to find
out more information.

Maybe Lori would know.

I grabbed the little notebook next
to the bed and wrote a quick, little sentence to remind me to ask
her. Since she'd been back, we'd both been busy. But today, we had
planned to have brunch: mimosas and turkey sandwiches at a cute,
little diner in town. It reminded me of home, and did the same for
her, so we met for lunch, once a week. I wore a cute little dress;
yellow and sunny, hoping it would bring my sour mood to another
level.

No panties today. I didn't feel
like it. I wanted to be scandalous in my own little way. And then
my mind traveled back to Mr. Felton. I hated that he walked away
from me. How could I know what I said would upset him when I don't
really know him at all?

I tucked the little notebook into
my clutch, grabbed the keys to the Honda, and arrived five minutes
early. Lori, always on time and punctual, had been waiting for at
least ten minutes.

We sat in the corner, in our
regular place, and I pulled out the notebook and started going down
the questions.

"Why do some men like to be called
'sir'?"

"It's because they like to be
thought of as the dominant to their submissive. It's kinky and sexy
all at the same time. I've got a few sirs."

Next question. I didn't know how
to say it or how to word it, but I asked anyway.

"Does Mr. Felton train all of his
girls, you know, to be sexual?"

Lori dropped her fork on her plate
with a
clink
. I gave her the most confused look I could
muster. She finished chewing her food and then stared at me long
and hard.

"No."

My adrenaline pumped, and I
couldn't help but be nervous. Was I breaking the rules, with my
boss? Would I be fired?

"No, he doesn't. Not to say he
hasn't, but he hasn't in quite a long time, like years. Is he… is
he teaching you?"

"Yes. Should he not
be?"

"Oh, it's his right to teach
whomever he pleases, but…"

She paused for a long time,
searching for the right words.

"But, he doesn't because it always
becomes too personal."

I flushed.

Personal: the word that so easily
described every bit of Mr. Felton and me.

"But you're different, Jennifer.
He handpicked you. He sees something in you that he likes, not to
say that he shouldn't, but he's our boss. It's dangerous territory.
Just be careful. Okay?"

"Dangerous, like how? Will he hurt
me?"

"Oh no. He won't hurt you. Mr.
Felton would never let anyone hurt his girls, not even him. The
only thing that might hurt is your heart. Build a wall. He isn't an
asshole bastard. It's just, he is the kind of guy that women fall
in love with."

"I see, and I would like to
disagree with you on the asshole bastard thing. He is pretty
assholish and bastardish."

"Assholes are kind of sexy, I
think. Training is important, especially since you know you're a
virgin," she whispered. Then she continued talking at her normal
volume. "But don't take anything personally. Block your emotions
like we learned in etiquette training. He is only preparing you for
your Number One. You must remember that, no matter what
happens."

"I won't fall in love with him.
He's too much of a dick for me." I had to say it out loud. I had to
believe that it was true.

"If you know what's best, you'll
avoid the mention of love at all costs."

"This morning, I joked about Mr.
Felton getting married, and he acted weird. Why?"

The waitress, Sue Mary, arrived
with another round of mimosas. We thanked her as we sipped from
mismatched champagne glasses.

Lori leaned over the table and
whispered.

"He was married
before."

"Really? Oh my god. Did she
divorce him or something?"

"She died, Jennifer. He moved to
the States for her. They fell madly in love. She was pregnant with
their firstborn, and a few months before she was due, she was
involved in a fatal car accident. It killed both her and Mr.
Felton's unborn son."

"Oh my god. I feel
horrible."

"Don't worry about it. He's still
sensitive about it, and it's been wow, six years, I think? He was
young, like your age, when it happened. I secretly think that's why
he hates love so much. It was a tragic love story like a modern day
Romeo and Juliet. I don't think The Elite would be here today if it
hadn't happened. Felton created the business to busy himself into
forgetting about his wife and son, but I don't think it
worked."

I couldn't speak. I was such a
fucking idiot. Out of everyone in the house, I knew what it felt
like to lose someone close. No wonder he turned cold. I sipped my
drink, hoping to drink my dumbness away.

Changing the subject abruptly,
Lori said, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Luke has a
weekend getaway scheduled for the two of you."

"What?" I semi-yelled.

"Shh. I overheard Jesse telling
Mr. Felton early this morning in the kitchen. You'll find out this
afternoon, and leave in the morning, so try to act
surprised?"

"Where are we going?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm sure it
will be somewhere sexy. Damn, that man is gorgeous."

I smiled thinking about Luketon
and I playing on the swing set, watching the light show at the
park.

We finished our mimosas, paid our
ticket, and tipped Sue Mary a few hundred dollars. The old woman
loved us, which is why she made our drinks so damn
strong.

***

Lori and I arrived back at the
same time, but she left quickly afterward to meet a client. The
afternoon crept in, and the shadows of the house moved across the
lawn.

Knowing that I would be somewhere
else tomorrow gave me a thrill. I felt like a little kid on
Christmas morning. And then the thought of my parents appeared, and
the happiness subsided.
Damn it.
I pulled myself from the
dark place I went when I thought of them, closed my eyes, and then
opened them quickly.

I would be somewhere else
tomorrow. I tried to focus on that and that alone. The four mimosas
I drank helped.