Читать книгу Private Sessions - Tori Carrington, Tori Carrington - Страница 7

“GREAT SEX IS NOT ENOUGH for me, Caleb. Not anymore.”

Damn. There it was …

Caleb Payne stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse apartment, his attention not on the reflection of the beautiful woman who had uttered the words, but on the sight beyond the glass. Seattle’s skyline twinkled against the inky late-night backdrop. His fingers tightened around the crystal tumbler that held an inch of the best whiskey the civilized world had to offer. He downed the smooth liquid in one swallow and then slowly dragged the back of his hand against his mouth, finally considering Cissy’s image in the window.

How was it possible such an attractive woman suddenly emerged unappealing? Despite the low-cut, curve-hugging long red dress she wore, her white-blond hair floating around her smooth shoulders, he wanted to look everywhere but at her.

His gaze fell to her full breasts. Correction: he wanted to look everywhere but into her pleading, hopeful face.

She instinctively crossed her arms, impeding his view.

“Sex is all I have to give you.” Caleb slowly turned, considering her reaction from beneath his brows. “I told you that from the beginning.”

He’d seen this coming since earlier that evening, when his limo had stopped at her downtown apartment to pick her up for the charity ball they’d attended.

Actually, if he were honest, he’d seen this coming since the day they’d first met.

It gave him no pleasure to know that he’d been spot-on when it came to the timeline he’d imagined when he’d met the pretty socialite six months ago. Around about month three, she’d started talking exclusivity. Which hadn’t been a problem, considering it was in his cautious nature to stick to one sexual partner at a time. Month four brought talk of combining households, a conversation he’d artfully avoided.

And tonight, a week before the end of month six, she had launched her plan for even more.

“I’ve never lied to you, Cissy,” he told her now. “You knew the score from the beginning.”

“But things change. People change.”

He shook his head. “Not me. Never me.”

Pain crumpled her face, an emotion that left him unmoved.

He wondered if she’d say the words countless others had said before her and call him a heartless bastard.

If she did, she’d be right. He’d been raised by a single mother, never knowing his father although the man had always been nearby, present without being a presence. While Caleb had never wanted for anything materially … well, one therapist he’d dated had suggested he’d been stunted emotionally by his upbringing.

He’d been a bastard child within a socio-economic class that still frowned heavily on such things. And his peers had never let him forget it.

That’s where the heartless part entered in.

Oh, Cissy might want more now, but in a week, maybe two, she’d be thankful she hadn’t been successful in her efforts. Out there somewhere was a man who would improve her standing; not detract from it.

He walked to the bar and poured another finger into his glass, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Is marriage anywhere in the cards for us?” Cissy asked quietly.

He inwardly winced.

Once, just once, he’d like to be proven wrong. He’d like to date a woman who was unpredictable. Someone who would surprise him. Someone who’d enjoy whatever moments they could spend together without planning, scheming, plotting for something more.

Someone who wouldn’t want something he was incapable of giving.

He shook his head. “No.”

He heard her moving around. Imagined her picking up her wrap. Checking inside her purse. Perhaps getting a tissue with which to wipe her nose. Then stalking toward the front door.

“Well, then, I guess this is goodbye.” Her voice was half accusatory, half hopeful.

He nodded again without turning. “Goodbye, Cissy.”

Silence. Long moments later the door closed behind her. Caleb downed the whiskey, tapping his fingers against the expensive crystal. Shame. He’d liked Cissy. She’d been nice to have around. Nice to have in his bed.

He sighed and then headed for his home office and the only thing that never asked him for anything more, that never complained or questioned or demanded, or failed to hold his fascination: work.