Читать книгу The Billionaire's Intern - Part 4 - Maisey Yates - Страница 8

For the first time in four years, putting on shoes had been easy that morning.

And the way a day was going to go always started with shoes.

So as days went, he was already feeling much more optimistic than usual.

Add to that, he’d woken up next to Addison. In bed. He hadn’t slept in a bed all through the night since before the island.

Which had maybe helped with the shoes. It had certainly increased the feeling of satisfaction, the feeling of certainty that was running deep inside him.

It was such a foreign feeling. The ground seemed solid, rather than a shifting, turning wave beneath his feet.

He stood from behind his desk and tugged back the curtain, looking down at the street below. Nothing tilted. His head didn’t swim.

Either he was more in control of himself, or Addison’s touch had gone a long way toward healing him. Potentially both.

Last night had been perfect. In that messed-up way perfection seemed to take shape in his life.

She’d come back with him. He’d gone out and gotten her, and she’d come back with him.

She’d seen all of him. Every sick piece of himself. Every dark, twisted secret that lurked in the corners of his soul.

If he even had a soul. That was up for debate.

But he wasn’t all that concerned with semantics. The fact was, he had Addison with him. Last night…last night he’d lost control in her…and gained some outside of that. He’d gone out. He’d gone after her. He’d held himself together.

And when the sun rose this morning, it hadn’t dissolved.

Yes, he’d purposed not to have her again. Not to use her that way because it was making him forget—and he couldn’t afford to forget. But he also had to make this speech, and without her, without this, he didn’t think he could.

The living would have to take precedence over guilt for the dead. For now.

The door to his office opened and Addison walked in, cream-colored dress molded to her slender curves. She had red lipstick on, which she had to know drove him crazy. Made him hard. Made him want to put her on the desk and continue on when where they’d left off.

Because she was his. And the fact that she’d come back with him last night proved that.

He shouldn’t want it. He shouldn’t want her. But he did.

More than that, he needed her. Which was why he’d tried to push her away last night. Because need was too dangerous. Because need was something he couldn’t afford, and yet somehow, needing her specifically offered more control instead of less.

Until they came together…then it all burned away. But perhaps that was the secret. To spend all his wild, reckless desire on her at night made him more of a man during the day.

He’d gone out last night in that suit, covered as much as possible, insulating himself from the world, disguising himself as a civilized man, to prove he could. Because he’d had to go and get her.

And then he’d stripped it all off for her. Because she’d demanded it, and he could give her no less than what she demanded.

It would have been better if he’d let her go. Better for her. But in the end, he was a bastard. And his own needs won out.

He curled his hands into fists, the need to press his thumb to her throat and feel her pulse almost overwhelming. Confirming what he already knew about himself.

He took a sharp breath. “Why do you look so self-satisfied?” he asked.

“Because I am,” she said. “Multiple climaxes will do that to a girl. And I was really enjoying going over the plans for the brownstone property. Very cool.”

“Cool. My hotel is cool.”

“B and B, Mr. Black, get that terminology right.”

“That’s your interest is it? Bed-and-breakfasts?”

“More so than gigantic hotels, yes.”

“What about them do you like?”

She looked down at the folder in her hand. “I haven’t given it much thought, actually. I confess I wasn’t really planning on using my degree. Which is…. I realize that doesn’t make very much sense.”

“Well, think it through. Why do you like B and Bs?”

A small smile curved her lips. “What I really like is the homey element to them. I like the idea of a smaller place. Specific in its decor, rather than generic. And food. Sharing food with people is important. It’s part of caring for them.”

“I know, you offered me steak when I told you I was a murderer.”

“Hmm. Well. Yeah. I did. Possibly, in retrospect, I find that I may have been inappropriate and unhelpful in that moment.”

“You’re as emotionally crippled as I am,” he said. “Which I find to be part of your charm.”

She nodded slowly. “I am. I am an emotional cripple. I haven’t known how to process all these bad feelings, so I haven’t been. I don’t know how to be this person I’m supposed to be. I don’t know how to be this Addison. The only thing that makes sense is when you’re with me.”

“Last night you told me I was confusing. If I recall correctly.”

“You are. But I make sense when we’re together. I know what I want.”

She was so strong. But like a pillar of glass. Capable of giving support. But the wrong kind of pressure would break her. And not just break, but splinter entirely.