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  Not the true woman.

  So I continue to fuck her and with just a few deep thrusts, her body is clamping down tight against me and she starts to shudder in climax. Tears pool and leak from her eyes as she wails in ecstasy.

  I slam into her, over and over again, and just as her own quaking starts to calm, I grit my teeth and let the air hiss out as I come inside of her. I shoot almost viciously into her pussy, shuddering hard with the initial wave, and then almost as quickly, my body comes to a quiet halt.

  I'm absolutely empty of body and soul in this moment, and part of the reason is that I may have enjoyed that just a little too much. Even as I hated it.

  It's the first time ever since I fucked Matt's wife that I've equated shame and sex together.

  Macy touches a tentative hand to my cheek, and I resist the need to give her a reassuring smile. Instead, I pull out of her, taking her by the hand and urging her off the bed. When she's on her feet, I let her go, turning to grab my clothes. I don't spare the other couple, who are lying wrapped up in each other's arms on the floor, a glance.

  Macy is utterly silent as she grabs her dress and pulls it over her in quick, jerky motions. I see the window in the wall is devoid of any onlookers, and that makes me feel better. Because I know without a doubt that there is no joy or flushed pleasure on my face right now.

  Once we're both dressed, I head toward the door to leave without a word to anyone. The bodyguard murmurs, "Have a good evening," as we exit. I turn down the hall, Macy hot on my heels.

  I keep waiting for anger to start bubbling hot within me, but all I can feel in this moment is confusion and a sick sort of disappointment over where Macy and I stand. She follows behind me, although I don't expect her to. I can honestly say if she wanted to stay here, I don't think I'd argue the point at all.

  Down the hallway, through the massive lobby area that is still crammed full of people sipping at their cocktails, and right out the front double doors.

  When my foot hits the graveled driveway at the bottom step, Macy reaches out and grabs my wrist.

  "Cal, wait," she says determinedly.

  I turn quickly and take a step right up into her. Leaning down, I growl, "I'm never doing that with you again."

  My words are vicious and laced with disdain. Her eyes cloud over and just before they lower to the ground, I see self-loathing within her crystal irises. It punches me in the gut, knowing that my words are causing her shame, but it doesn't stop me from saying, "I tried that once for you, but never again. That's not me. It will never be me."

  She doesn't look back up at me but gives a resolute nod. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

  And damn... that makes me feel like shit. I take her hand and give it a tug as I turn toward the grassy parking lot to the west side of the mansion. "Come on," I tell her gruffly. "I'll give you a ride home."

  I'm stunned when she pulls away from me and now her eyes are staring at me in defiance, her chin raised stubbornly. "No, thank you."

  "Then I'll walk you to your car," I say in exasperation.

  "I'm staying," she says quietly.

  "What?"

  "I get that this isn't you," she says softly. "But sadly... this is me. This is all I'm good for."

  My stomach cramps so viciously, I almost bend over to ease the pain of it. This beautiful, broken woman truly believes that this is all she's meant to be. She's not choosing to stay here because she wants to, but because she believes she's not worthy to walk the path I'm offering her.

  "Yeah, fuck that," I growl, grabbing her by the elbow. I turn and start pulling her along with me toward my car. "You're leaving and that's that."

  I have no clue where we stand. I have no clue what tomorrow is going to bring. All I know are these few truths.

  I'm never sharing Macy Carrington again.

  I'm sure as hell not leaving her to believe that this is all that she's destined for.

  And fuck if I'm going to let her become her own worst enemy.

  Game on.

  I have a woman to save.

  Chapter 16

  From the Diary of Macy Carrington: Dear Diary, I fucked up.

  Big time.

  And yet, I couldn't help myself.

  I am a disaster. Cal is going to get hurt, and yet, I can't give him up. Thankfully, I haven't pushed him away yet, although I'm waiting for him to come to his senses any day now.

  Selfishly yours, Macy

  Chapter 17

  I check my phone again, seeing if Macy texted me back.

  Not a fucking word and it's making me cranky.

  It goes without saying I've been on edge since our time together at Voyeur last weekend. That surge of anger I was expecting never came. Instead, I was filled with frustration and unease as I drove home alone. While Macy never attempted to go back in to the mansion, she insisted on going home in the limousine she had hired, and I didn't quibble. It was probably best to put some distance between us anyway since things were so... weird.

  We both stayed silent all weekend, right on into the work week, neither one of us having the guts to reach out to the other. But when I woke up this Friday morning, I was determined. Before I even rolled out of bed, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and sent her a quick text.

  Dinner tonight. I'll pick you up at seven.

  I didn't say anything else, but I hoped she understood the further implication. That we'd be spending all night together. It was my due. A matter of right. She owed it to me after what I gave her, and it would fulfill our original bargain.

  But she hasn't texted me back, and I have no clue if she'll be at her apartment when I ring the doorbell.

  I tuck my phone back into my breast pocket and push up out of my office chair. I've got a few more hours of work before the day is over and the weekend officially starts, but I can't concentrate on it for shit. So I decide to head down to Mac's office and see what she's up to. I haven't seen her in a few days, and while I certainly can't bring Macy up in casual conversation, maybe she'll drop me a breadcrumb or something.

  It still chafes at me that I have to keep my relationship with Macy--if that's what you call this fiasco--from my best friend. But I have to respect Macy's wishes at this point, and I'm still bolstered by Matt's confidence in me that I'm good for that maddening wench.

  Mac's door is open and I see her head bent over her laptop, typing away furiously. I give a sharp rap on the door casing as I walk in and she looks up at me, her face awash in pained concentration. But then a welcoming smile graces her lips, and she actually pushes the laptop away from her as I enter her office.

  "What's up?" she asks brightly. "You've been a busy man last several days. Haven't seen hide or hair of you."

  "Same shit, different day," I say with a sigh as I set down in one of her guest chairs.

  "Got Macy's case all wrapped up?" she asks with a cute head tilt.

  Mac knew that I had the case dismissed, something she learned from a quick email I had sent her before I boarded the plane from Utah to New York. I told her just the basics... that I had found out the case was a scam and it was a piece of cake to handle.

  "Yeah... dismissal's been filed," I tell her.

  Mac reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope. As she hands it across the desk, she says, "Perfect timing. I had just had lunch with Macy. She asked me to give this to you."

  My eyebrows rise in surprise as I gingerly take the envelope. "What is it?"

  "A check... for five thousand dollars," Macy says with a smile. "Your legal fee."

  I immediately push the envelope back toward her before she can release it. "I don't want this."

  Mac engages in a little struggle with me by shoving it harder into my hand, even as her own eyebrows rise in shock. "Why the hell not? It's your fee. You earned it."

  "I did a favor for your friend," I say as I push back, the envelope crumpling between us.

  "No way," Mac says while shaking her head. "I never intended for you to represent her for free.
We have a business to run."

  She abruptly lets go of the envelope, and I'm left holding it like it's a slimy worm.

  "Mac," I say gently. "It really wasn't a big deal. Just consider it a favor... please."

  "Nope," she says matter-of-factly. "If you've got a problem with it, you take it up with Macy. She was emphatic that you get paid for your services."

  Anger surges through me, that Macy would even think to try to pay me for what I did. Didn't she know that it was absolutely my pleasure to help her out of a sticky situation? Didn't she understand that I had a measure of care for her, regardless if she's only in it for some dirty, hard-core fucking?

  This, coupled with my frustration that she hasn't texted me back to confirm our date tonight, has me on the edge and threatening to explode. Which is so not me. I'm the laid-back variety, calm to my core.

  Apparently, that's changed since I got in deep with Macy Carrington.

  Crumpling the envelope in my hand, I stand from the chair and turn away from Mac. I walk away without another word, which is completely uncharacteristic of me. In the two years we've been practicing law together, I realize that Mac has never seen my temper... largely because it's non-existent.

  When I reach her door, her voice calls out to me. "Are you okay?"

  "Fine," I mutter as I exit and continue down the hallway.

  I make it just about ten feet when her voice calls out again, this time closer. "Cal... wait."

  Turning around, I find Mac walking toward me down the hall with a worried look on her face. "What's up?" I ask, trying to sound for casual, but I know there's a hint of a growl in my tone.

  "Are you pissed at me?" she asks quietly as she comes to a stop almost toe to toe with me.

  "Nope."

  Yes... that you even thought to take that check from Macy to hand to me.

  "Pissed at someone else and taking it out on me?"

  "Nope," I say again.

  "You're lying," she says with narrowed eyes.

  "So sue me," I quip as I turn away and head toward my office.

  "Cal..." She calls my name in pleading fashion.

  "Just leave it be," I call over my shoulder, and then to ease her burden, I add on, "It's not you so don't worry about it."

  I can hear her huff out in frustration, but then I'm turning down another hall and she's out of earshot. I pull my phone out of my breast pocket to check it again. Still no word from Macy so as I step into my office, I quickly text her.

  Just because you don't respond doesn't mean I'm not coming tonight. Don't even think about not being there.

  Satisfied with my domineering ways, I tuck my phone back into my jacket and head around my desk, determined to get some productive work done before I have to leave. I no sooner set down in my chair than Janis is buzzing my phone.

  "Yeah," I say tersely when I hit the speaker button.

  "Camille Grant is here to see you," she says hesitantly, and then a little more quietly, "She doesn't have an appointment."

  Pushing my fingers through my hair in frustration, I take a deep breath and blow it out. Every bit of me wants to tell Janis to chase Camille away, because I don't feel like dealing with her. But I also know she's nursing hurt and bruised feelings, and as much as I like to play at being an asshole sometimes, it's just not in me.

  "Fine," I mutter. "Send her in."

  I lean back in my chair, close my eyes, and call on a measure of patience to fill me up. I'm not in the mood to take whatever Camille will be dishing, but she doesn't deserve the ire that's welled up inside of me compliments of Macy.

  "Hi," she says softly from my doorway, and my eyes open up.

  As always, she's the picture of cool sophistication coupled with sensuous beauty. She's wearing a tailored, salmon-colored suit and nude heels, her long brown hair laying in soft waves over her shoulder. She really is stunning, and I wish for a moment that I could be interested in someone like her. It would make things so much easier.

  I rise from my desk, and she meets me halfway across my office. Leaning in, I lightly grasp her shoulders and give her a kiss on her cheek. When I pull away, I ask with the utmost sincerity, "How are you?"

  "I'm fine," she says, waving a dismissive hand, and that eases up some of the tension I had been feeling at seeing her here in my office.

  Turning my back on her to walk behind my desk, because I want to maintain some distance, I motion toward my chairs. "Have a seat."

  By the time I make it to my own desk chair, sit down, and turn to face Camille, she has big, fat tears sliding down her cheeks and she's looking at me like I kicked her poor, defenseless, puppy.

  "What's wrong?" I ask her hesitantly, already dreading her fucking answer.

  "I just screwed everything up with you," she wails, and then buries her face in her hands where she sobs with hunched, pathetic shoulders.

  Christ, I don't need this.

  I grit my teeth and close my eyes... take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calling upon every gentle bone in my body to rise forth, I quietly say, "I know this must be hard on you."

  She vigorously nods her head, keeping her face covered with the palms of her hands, for which I'm grateful. I don't do well with crying females. It crushes all my defenses and sometimes has me promising things that I have no business promising.

  So I let her cry for a few moments. Finally, her sobs wane and she gives a tiny hiccup. Reaching into her purse with her face still lowered, she grabs some tissue. After blotting at her eyes and rubbing her nose--which is cherry red--she looks back up at me morosely. "Tell me I can fix this, Cal."

  I know many men in this situation would be scrambling around for any excuse to throw out at this moment.

  My job just transferred me to Siberia. I'm sorry, but long distance won't work.

  I have a terminal disease. I only have a week to live, and I want to spend it with my parents.

  I've just realized I'm a homosexual. Cock is the only thing that does it for me now.

  I internally snicker at that last thought, because... well... never mind.

  But I don't need the excuses. I've found the truth is usually better, so I lay it out. "I'm sorry, Camille, but I've moved on."

  Her eyes go round with surprise and her mouth gapes slightly. "Moved on?"

  I nod. "Yes. I'm seeing someone."

  Well, actually, I'm just screwing someone. She's only into me for the sex, but hey... I think I can reach her sometime this millennium.

  "I don't understand," she says as her eyes narrow at me. "We didn't break up very long ago."

  "I know," I say with a huff of resignation as I rub the back of my neck while leaning back in my chair. "This is new. I haven't been seeing her long."

  "So it can't be very serious," she says dismissively as she tucks the damp tissue paper back into her purse. Her eyes are surprisingly dry now, and her chin has a stubborn set to it. "I'd like for you to consider perhaps giving me another chance."

  Okay, so much for the truth. This isn't turning out to be the easy rebuff I thought it would.

  Standing from my chair, I walk back around my desk and take the seat next to her. I angle my body to face her, cross one leg casually over the other, and drum my fingers on the armrest.

  "Camille... I'm with someone else," I say as I look directly into her eyes. I say it clearly... emphatically... making no bones about it.

  She swallows... her eyes flickering between my own. "Are you in love with her?"

  "God... no," I blurt out quickly, and then immediately analyze the truth of my words. They came out so fast... unbidden... almost with free will. Yeah... I'm good. I don't love Macy. That's the truth.

  I'm completely in lust with her, totally fascinated by her secrets, and I yearn for something more.

  But this is not love.

  Not yet, and sadly, what I've come to know about Macy, probably not ever.

  Still... I'm not ready to walk away from her. Not sure if I ever will be. But I know that there will pr
obably come a day when this is going to end, and that's probably going to be the day that Macy decides she's had enough of me.

  It makes me wonder if I'm a fool or just a hopeless romantic.

  Maybe I'm just a horny man that knows fantastic sex when he has it.

  Who knows, but one thing I'm sure about... there's nothing left for the woman sitting next to me.

  "Look, Camille," I say kindly as I reach out to squeeze her shoulder companionably. "What we had--"

  I don't make it any further because before I know it, Camille is launching herself out of her chair and throwing herself at me... on me... straddling my lap while I try to figure out what the fuck is going on.

  My hands come to her hips and I try to push her off, even as she scrambles to get closer to me, her hands pulling at the lapels of my suit jacket, her mouth trying to descend on to mine.

  "Jesus, Camille," I snarl as I try to dislodge her grip without hurting her.

  "Am I interrupting something?" I hear from the doorway, and I cringe when I hear Macy's voice. I have no clue how long she's been standing there, but I turn slowly to look at her.

  I quickly stand up from the chair, dumping Camille off my lap. I do grab onto her arms to keep her from falling to the carpet, and once I know she's steady on her feet, I release my hold on her and step backward. This, of course, brings me right up against the chair I was just sitting on, but I don't let that stand in my way of freedom. I push it back several feet and follow right along to put some more space between us.

  Camille's chest is heaving, and her face is flushed with anger. Her eyes even have this crazy Samuel L. Jackson look in them, and I expect her to pounce at me again.

  I want to tell Macy that she's not interrupting anything, and in fact, her presence is welcome. I want to walk over to her, kiss her hard, shove that stupid check back at her, and then kiss her hard again. I want to do all of this while Camille watches so she knows that I am without a doubt with someone else.

  Instead, Camille turns to Macy and snaps, "Yes, we're busy if you don't mind."

  "No, we're not busy," I snap in response, my eyes narrowed on Camille for a moment before I turn away and walk toward Macy. I hope she sees the relief in my eyes that she's here, but all I get back from her is a calculated and aloof look.

  Reaching a hand out, I lace my fingers with hers and pull her further into my office. "I'm so glad you're here," I whisper to her.