Turbulence

  JAKE

  New York (JFK)—>Los Angeles (LAX)

  The flashing white fireworks from the gala lit up the sky as I sped out of the parking lot. My blood pressure heightened with every passing second, and I was sure if I didn’t make it home within the next hour, I was going to do something I might later regret.

  I was used to seeing my father’s face plastered all over the magazines and commercials, used to reading his words and rolling my eyes at his every lie, but actually seeing him face to face tonight made me realize just how much I still despised him. How much Elite and everything he stood for repulsed me.

  I turned on the radio so I could focus on something else, but as thoughts of my father slipped away, thoughts of Gillian came into focus. The sight of her in that half-of-a-dress and flirting with Evan. The fact that it actually made me react.

  “Our arrangement covers sex, not conversations with random people...”

  Bullshit.

  I made it to the valet at The Madison and didn’t bother waiting for the attendant to approach my car. I stepped out and left the keys in the ignition, quickly rushing up the building’s front steps.

  “Good evening, Mr. Weston.” Jeff held the doors open. “How are the skies lately?”

  “Turbulent.” I went straight to the open elevators and up to my suite, still appreciating that I no longer had to double check security each time I came home. I opened all the windows in my living room, letting the cool night air sift inside. Then I walked into my kitchen and pulled out all my shot glasses, filling them with bourbon.

  I knocked back two and my voicemail system turned on.

  “Welcome home. You have two new messages. Would you like to hear them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please say the password.”

  I tossed back shot number three. “One, eight, seven, two.”

  “Message number one...” There was a beep, then a raspy voice. “Hello? Is this Deluxe Catering? This is the number that’s—”

  “Next.”

  “Message number two.”

  “Jake, it’s me.” Riley’s whiney voice echoed throughout the living room. “Jake, I know you’re home, so pick up...Okay look. Regardless of how you feel about me, Evan and your dad, we need to talk to you. It’s really important and we’ve been using any means necessary to get your attention for years. Can you not see that? Can you not see?” She sounded as if she was actually crying. “If you’re still listening...”

  “Next.”

  “No new messages. Would you like me to delete the most recent messages?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. You now have thirty-six archived messages. Goodbye.”

  I picked up my fourth shot, ready to toss it back, but there was a loud and sudden knock at my door. The type of rude and inconsiderate knock that could only come from Riley.

  With the words, “Stay the hell away from me” on my tongue, I walked over to the door, but when I swung it open, I saw Gillian.

  Soaking wet, she was still dressed in the emerald green dress from the gala. Her face was flushed red, and her chest was heaving up and down.

  “Yes?” I raised my eyebrow.

  “We need to get a few things straight,” she said, walking straight past me and into the condo. “We’re going to get through this right now and I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.”

  I slammed the door shut and tossed back my shot.

  She crossed her arms and waited for me to look at her as her dress dripped water onto my floor.

  “You can’t talk to me the way you did at the gala. You can’t ever talk to me like that again. I’m not your fucking doormat and I’m not some little doe-eyed girl who’s so desperate for your cock, that I’ll let you treat me any kind of way.”

  “Gillian—”

  “I’m still talking.” She cut me off, seething. “I am still talking, Jake. Not you. You’ve said what you had to say in the rudest way possible and right now, it’s my turn.”

  I blinked.

  “I know that you don’t really know me, that you don’t even want to know me outside of the bedroom, but you need to know this anyway. I have to be respected. Always. You will respect me for as long as we continue this arrangement and if you have a problem with something or “think” I’ve done something to betray what we’ve agreed on, you will talk to me like I’m a human being and not a goddamn possession.”

  She paced the floor as she spoke, keeping her eyes on mine. “I’m the one who’s risking the most by sleeping with you. If we’re reported, I get an automatic termination, but since you’re a pilot you’d only get a slap on the wrist and a write-up. So, the least you could do is try to show me some respect. And you can start with an apology for blowing up on me the way you did in that gallery.” She suddenly stopped walking and let out a breath. “That was cruel and unnecessary, Jake. It was also very humiliating.”

  Silence.

  “Is that everything?” I asked once she looked like she had nothing more to say.

  “Yes. Yes, I believe that’s everything.”

  “Good,” I said. “You can get the hell out now.”

  “What?”

  “Do I need to say the words a bit slower for you?” I glared at her. “I said, you can get the hell out now. Tell the cab service at the back entrance to take you home and charge it to me, and then don’t come back. Ever.”

  “No.” She walked over to me, stepping so close we were nearly touching. “I’m not doing anything until you say you’re sorry.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else, but I beat her to it.

  “I’m not sorry, Gillian.” I made it perfectly clear. “I’m not sorry for a goddamn thing I said to you at that gala. I meant every single word, and if my delivery was a bit blunt for you—”

  “If it was a bit blunt for me, then what?”

  “Deal with it.”

  “Deal with it?”

  “Are you partially deaf or do you just enjoy randomly repeating everything I fucking say?” I crossed my arms. “I didn’t stutter.”

  “Jake...” The strap of her dress fell down her shoulder, exposing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, but she made no move to fix it. “Regardless of whether you’re really sorry or not, it’s the respectful thing to do.”

  “The door is right behind you. Make sure you shut it when you get tired of talking to yourself.” I turned away and headed down the hallway, back to the kitchen for more alcohol.

  I finished off my shot, sent Jeff a quick text to make sure he looked out for Gillian on her way downstairs, and then I took off my suit and slipped into the shower.

  Letting the warm water hit me on my face, I shut my eyes and wondered how much more liquor it would take for me to forget this mess of a night.

  I reached for my soap, but the sound of my shower door opening and closing caught me off guard. All of a sudden, Gillian grabbed my arm from behind and squeezed my bicep, forcing me to turn around and face her again.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She stretched out her arms as if she was about to push my chest, but I grabbed her hands.

  What the fuck...

  “Does that feel good, Jake?” Her face reddened. “Someone coming from behind you and yelling at you for no reason?”

  “Gillian...” I narrowed my eyes at her as the water above fell over the both of us.

  “How about if I did it in front of a bunch of people in public?” She was on the verge of tears. “Do I need to wake up all your neighbors and invite them over so we can recreate the same effect?” She tried to break free from my grasp, but I held her still and pushed her against the tile—pinning her arms above her head.

  “I think you need to calm down.” I tightened my grip on her wrists.

  “Well, I think we need to call my roommate over and have her innocently flirt with you and compare my reaction so you can see how a mature person would react.”

&
nbsp; “You consider what you’re doing right now to be mature?”

  “I consider it necessary.” Her dress slid down a bit as the water fell harder, exposing the top of her breasts. “This is necessary until I get the apology you know I deserve, or else.”

  “Or else, what?” I wasn’t sure what it was about this woman that got under my skin and effortlessly drove up my blood pressure, but if we didn’t end this tonight, I was pretty sure she’d soon have that shit down to a science. “Are you going to fucking talk me to death?”

  She was suddenly quiet—a shocking rarity, but seething all the same. Her green eyes were glued to mine and her lips were tightly tucked into her perfect mouth.

  “No words?” I asked. “Does that mean you’re finally ready to leave?”

  “It means you’re in fucking denial,” she said. “It means you’re a bigger asshole than I could’ve ever imagined. And addictive sex or not, I will never speak to you again.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “I won’t.” She swallowed. “I think you like me a lot more than you’re willing to admit.”

  “So, you’re not done talking...”

  “Regardless of what you claim, you like when I call you late at night.”

  “That’s why I hit ignore so often?”

  “You like talking to me because you don’t have anyone else, and I know you don’t have any other friends.” She tried to move again, but I didn’t let her. “I think you even like when I try to get to know you better, when I ask you my questions.”

  “I hate your goddamn questions.”

  “All I want is an apology.” Her voice was firm. “But if you don’t want to give it, it just means you’re a bigger asshole than I ever imagined, and addictive sex or not, I can promise you, I’ll never talk to again.”

  “Okay. Fine.” I immediately let her hands go and stepped back. “Step out of that dress and I’ll show you just how fucking sorry I am.”

  “What?”

  “Take off that dress—excuse me, that piece of a dress, and I’ll happily show you how sorry I am, Gillian. Do I need to repeat it again?”

  Silence.

  “You can’t seriously think that I want to have sex with you right now...”

  “I don’t think you know what the hell you want.” I noticed her nipples hardening through the silk fabric. “And I’m starting to think we’re going to have some problems if you don’t make whatever that is a lot clearer.”

  “Jake...” Her cheeks reddened as I dragged my finger against the zipper on the side of her dress. “Jake, I just want you to say that you’re sorry.”

  “Take off that dress and I will.”

  She stood still staring at me for several seconds, an ultimate stalemate. Her eyes never left mine, mine never left hers, and after what felt like forever, she unzipped her dress.

  It fell to the tile floor in a drenched pool of green silk, confirming that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath—making me even angrier that Evan had put his hands on her. She started to stoop down to unbuckle her silver stilettos, but I grabbed her hand—telling her to keep them on.

  I pulled her close to me, holding her directly under the water. Without saying anything else, I pulled her down onto the shower bench.

  Her lips latched onto mine—angry and wet, and she bit my tongue each time I tried to explore her mouth. She fought for control—cursing at me, trying to push me back against the bench so she could be on top, but I gripped her waist and easily flipped her over.

  “Get on your knees,” I whispered, pulling her back by her hair.

  She slowly leaned forward, bracing herself against the wood—her perfect ass and heels facing me.

  I gripped her hips and slid inside her drenched pussy.

  “Ahhh...” She moaned as I thrust all the way into her, as I slapped her ass.

  “I’m sorry...” I whispered into her ear. “I’m very sorry, Gillian...”

  She breathed out a soft, “Fuck you,” and I slapped her ass once more.

  She cried out as I pounded into her again and again, as I gripped her hips and made her take every inch of my cock.

  “I said I was sorry...” I bit her shoulder. “Is that good enough for you?”

  She didn’t answer. She just moaned, moving back against me.

  I grabbed her hair and pulled it back until her head tilted back and her eyes were on mine. “Are you going to accept my apology?” I slid my hand between her thighs and rubbed her clit, making her moan even louder.

  “Is that a no?”

  Her clit swelled beneath my fingertips, her pussy dripped onto my fingers. “You can demand an apology, but you won’t accept it?”

  “Yes...”

  “Yes to you accepting my apology or yes to you not accepting it?”

  “Ohhh...Oh goddd...”

  “Answer me.” I tugged her hair and suddenly felt her pussy clenching my cock. “Is my sorry not good enough, Gillian?”

  “I...” She shut her eyes as her body shook against mine.

  “Yes...Yes!” She screamed one last time and fell forward.

  Coming right after her, I held her sides so she wouldn’t hit the bench face first. Our breathing was heavy and in sync, and I waited until it was somewhat normal before pulling out of her.

  I positioned her so she was sitting up and against the wall, and then the both of us sat still—the warm shower water still lashing against our skin.

  After several minutes, she turned to look at me, her sexy green eyes meeting mine. “I missed using this shower.”

  I smiled, holding back a laugh and stood up. I turned off the water and grabbed her hand, pulling her up and leading her into my bedroom.

  “Here.” I handed her a towel and wrapped another around my waist.

  I walked into my closet and pulled out the bottom dresser drawer where I’d tossed more of the random things I’d found hidden around my place since she first left. I grabbed a pair of black leggings, an oversized Boston U. T-shirt, and a pair of panties. And for some reason, I left her other clothing items inside and closed the drawer.

  I returned to the bedroom and sat down next to her, handing her the clothes.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, looking surprised. “Where did you find these?”

  “Where they didn’t belong.” I put on a pair of black sweatpants. “But you’re welcome.”

  She looked at me as she put on her clothes, giving me that strange look she often gave when we finished having sex.

  “Did I hurt you?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “I would’ve told you in the shower.”

  “I meant at the gala. Did I grab your arm from behind the way you did to me here?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  I sighed, hesitating. “I am sorry, actually.”

  “For talking to me the way that you did?”

  “For doing it publicly.”

  “Jake—”

  “Yes,” I said, taking her hands and helping her stand up. “I’m sorry for talking to you that way.”

  “So, it won’t happen again?”

  “Not unless you feel the need to talk to my brother again.”

  “I won’t...” She bit her lip. “Were you adopted? Is Evan your stepbrother?”

  “This conversation can’t happen,” I said. “Drop it.”

  “Evan never mentioned a brother when I interviewed him at my newspaper years ago. I’m just asking.”

  “Gillian, if you and me are going to work—” I tried to keep my voice calm. “If whatever the hell this is is going to work, I mean, I need you to drop this and never bring it up again. It has nothing to do with whatever the hell we’re doing.”

  She smiled a sarcastic smile. “Are you saying you’re now open to more since you do enjoy talking to me? That you could see yourself falling in love with me?”

  “This is hardly love.”

  “Then it’s hardly lust.”

  “Then we’ll just call it
us.” I rolled my eyes and led her into the guest bedroom, picking up her clutch on the way and handing it to her. Hitting the lights, I walked her over to the bed and pulled back the sheets. “You can sleep here tonight. I’ll have you taken home in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” She climbed into the bed, looking sexier than ever.

  “How did you get here tonight?” I asked.

  “My roommate dropped me off.”

  “You’re lying.” I saw it in her eyes. “How did you really get here?”

  “I took the bus.”

  “Were there no cabs or Uber drivers available?”

  “Yes, but some of us weren’t born rich, so we have to wait until pay day to have access to our money.”

  “I wasn’t born rich,” I said, roughly fluffing the pillow behind her head. “Next time you’re that angry, just get a cab. I’ll pay for it.”

  She looked stunned. “Is that open invitation to stay at your place whenever I need to?”

  “I think you’ve stayed in my place more than enough.” I slipped my hands beneath her thighs and pulled her closer to me. “But fuck no, that’s not an invitation to stay here at all. Outside of tonight, I can guarantee you’ll never spend the night here again.”

  “Too worried you’ll catch feelings for me?”

  “Too worried you’ll think I’m catching feelings for you.” I trailed her lips with my finger. “I’m not, Gillian, but I do enjoy talking to you. Sometimes.”

  She let out a soft breath and started talking again—launching into one of those long monologues, slowly turning me on with each and every word that fell from her puffy pink lips.

  This time, when she finally finished, I just stared at her. Then I realized I needed to end this conversation right now before we had sex again, before I failed to get enough sleep for my flight tomorrow night.

  I didn’t say anything else to her. I simply took one last look at her, hit the lights, and walked away. I walked into the kitchen, put away the shot glasses and bourbon, and retreated to my own room where her previous strawberry scent was just now beginning to fade away.

  Laying back on the bed, I stared at the ceiling, wondering how the hell we’d once again gone from arguing to fucking to cordial conversation.

  Every other woman I’d argued with in the past—no matter the discussion, instantly landed on my ‘never speak to again’ list. Our ties were immediately cut, our communication forever frozen to that one particular moment in time. Yet, multiple arguments later, and I wasn’t feeling the need to block Gillian’s number or replace her with someone else.