Sweet Deception (27 page)

It was a deliberately intimate move. As I took a bite of the sweet, warm chocolate, our eyes locked, and I felt the last of my appetite vanish. It took all my effort to chew and swallow the dessert down.

“That was pretty spectacular,” I said finally, even though I'd hardly been able to taste anything.

“I'm glad you liked it. Do you want some more?”

I had a feeling he already knew the answer, but I shook my head anyway. I heard the clink of the spoon as he placed it on the plate. He leaned in towards me. My lips parted and I felt my heartbeat speed up with the anticipation. But before anything could happen, the music abruptly cut out, causing us both to pull back, startled.

Richard groaned. “Great timing.” He got to his feet. “I'll sort that out and be right back.”

As he disappeared to fix the sound system, I took the opportunity to wipe my sweaty palms on my dress. I couldn't understand what was wrong with me. We were clearly at the seduction part of the evening, which was meant to be my area of expertise. But then why was my skin suddenly hot, and my stomach churning with nerves? I reached for my wine glass, gulping down the last of the alcohol, but that didn't seem to help. If anything, my breathing seemed more uneven, like I was heading for a panic attack.

I glanced wildly around the room, searching for something to help me out. My eyes settled on the half-finished wine bottle in the middle of the table. I snatched it up, and then headed over to the nearby couch. If we were going to do this, we needed to be somewhere more comfortable.

I'd just settled myself on the sofa when the music started again. I looked up to see Richard coming over to join me. He watched me through narrowed eyes as I downed the last mouthful of wine. When I reached for the bottle, he put his hand out to stop me.

“Oh, no you don't.” He took the glass from me, and set it down on the side table.

“Hey!” I protested.

“I told you before, Charlotte—I want you to remember every moment of tonight.” He cupped my face with one
strong hand, his thumb slowly caressing my cheek. “Every. Single. Moment.” He inched forwards, his mouth moving towards me. “Do you think you can do that?”

My breath hitched in my throat, and all I could do was nod.

Any objections I felt slipped away, as he bent his head and kissed me.

I'd braced myself for the kiss, but I still wasn't fully prepared for the intensity of it. Richard's mouth was hot and hungry against mine, eager to finally experience what we'd been denying ourselves for so long.

I closed my eyes tighter, and tried to relax, as his hands began to roam my body. But I was too present, too in the moment. There was a reason I'd wanted the alcohol. It was to numb me, to make this easier. Last night, when he'd touched me, I'd been anaesthetised by tequila. Drunk, I could handle this. Sober, I wasn't so sure. I wanted to. God, how I wanted to . . .

Then his lips parted mine, and something clicked in me. I could feel myself closing off, my defences rising, my body going still and cold. I couldn't understand why this felt so uncomfortable. After all the guys I'd slept with—whom I'd never given a damn about—why was it now, when I was finally
with someone decent, that I was freezing up?

Richard's mouth was on my neck. As he reached for my breasts, my hands closed into fists. I tried to keep my breathing steady. If I could just stay focused on the moment, and not let the dark thoughts in, then maybe I could get through this.

If I could just get through tonight . . . Perhaps after this first time, it wouldn't be so bad. I reached for his T-shirt, pulling it up, wanting to get things moving. But he broke away a little, stilling me.

“Not so fast,” he murmured. “There's no rush. We've got all night.”

His patience surprised me. Every other guy I'd been with had just wanted it over with—wham bam, thank you, ma'am—which had suited me just fine. But Richard was different. I could already see how he wanted this to play out—a slow build-up on the couch; an eventual adjournment to the bedroom. Agonisingly slow. He didn't seem to get it. He wanted this to be a long seduction, and I just wanted it over with.

He needed me to enjoy this, but I knew there was no way I could ever relax enough. The knowledge brought a rush of tears. He didn't deserve this, and neither did I. My heart was galloping, the breath catching in my chest. I was struggling not to crack. And Richard was completely unaware of it.

As if to prove my point, he chose that moment to draw
away a little, tipping my chin up so he could look deep in my eyes.

“You're so beautiful, Charlotte.”

They were the words that every girl wanted to hear, spoken with such sincerity from someone whom they felt deeply for. But for me, they were the final straw. I couldn't stand it another moment. As he went to take me in his arms again, I reared back, my hands hitting his hard chest and pushing him away so abruptly that he fell backwards against the cushions.

“For fuck's sake, just stop it, will you?”

My shrill words tore through the moment, leaving it in ruins.

Before Richard could react, I was already off the sofa and on my feet, putting distance between us. It might have seemed brutal, but I was closing myself off from him in the only way I knew how.

It was only when I felt far away enough that I dared to sneak a look at Richard, who was still over on the couch. I watched him sit up slowly. His dark hair was tousled, his clothes dishevelled. He'd never looked better.

“What is it?” The concern and confusion on his face made my heart ache. He stood, his natural reaction being to come and comfort me. But then he saw me take another step back and he froze, frowning. “What did I do?”

I knew why he didn't understand. It wasn't like he'd
caught my wrists in his hands or held me down. But that was the problem. That I could deal with. It was the tenderness that did me in.

“You were being nice, okay? Just so fucking
nice
that I couldn't stand it.”

He stared at me for a long moment, digesting my words. “Are you being serious?”

I just rolled my eyes.

I could see him turning over what I'd said in his mind, trying to make sense of it. Then finally he shook his head. “I'm sorry. I just don't get it.”

“Come on,” I scoffed. “All this romance, the big seduction.” I gestured round the room at the remnants of our evening. “It's all an act, isn't it? You might light a few candles and cook a nice meal, but when it comes down to it, all you want to do is fuck me, like every other guy.” I took a step forwards, feeling bolder now that I was back to my old self. “So let's cut the crap. There's no need for flowery words and compliments. I'm a sure thing, so can we just get this done already?”

The confusion was clear on Richard's face. “You're saying you didn't enjoy this evening?”

He didn't seem to get it. I didn't want love. I didn't want romance. This for me was never about feelings. It was about fucking—nothing more. And him trying to pretend otherwise was making it worse.

“I'm just saying it's all pretty meaningless. Seriously, have you ever asked yourself why you even make all of these romantic gestures? I bet deep down it's because it makes you feel better about yourself. You come away from the night feeling like less of a dick, right? You buy a girl dinner, open a few doors, and you think you're Prince fucking Charming. You look down on guys like Gavin, call them scum, but when it comes down to it, you're no better than them. You both want the same thing—a quick roll in the sack. They're just more honest about it. And I'm saying with me, you don't need to pretend.”

I reached round and unzipped my dress. The material fell from me, pooling in a heap on the floor by my feet, and leaving me standing in nothing but my underwear—a black, lacy push-up bra and matching low-rise shorts, put on with such hope earlier tonight, and now just a tool to torture a man who could have meant so much to me.

Richard took a step back, even as his eyes moved over me. “Don't do this, Charlotte . . .”

“Why not?” My voice was low and throaty. Like this, I was in control. “You don't have to pretend with me. I'm not looking for a gentleman.”

His jaw clenched. I could tell I was on the verge of pushing him too far, but I didn't care. I might not understand why I was reacting this way, but I knew he was to blame. He was the one who wouldn't let me get drunk. He was the one
who'd insisted on trying to make this something I hadn't wanted. He'd pushed me to be Charlotte, when I was happier as Charlie. And now I planned to punish him, to hurt him the same way he'd hurt me.

I walked towards him slowly. Despite his best intentions, I saw the way his gaze drifted over my body. How much did he hate himself right now? I reached round to unclasp my bra.

“Just tell me what you want,” I murmured. “I bet you like to get nasty, huh? All those hours in the office, pretending to be so perfect. Now it's time to unleash.”

My bra fell to the floor, and Richard drew a sharp intake of breath. As I drew level with him, he caught my shoulders in a tight grip, no doubt intending to push me away, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it. So I bit my lower lip and pressed my body against his, feeling a surge of triumph as his erection twitched against me.

“Fuck me, Davenport.” I looked up at him from lowered lashes. “Right here. Right now.”

I was deliberately baiting him, and I'd expected him to react angrily, to pull back. But instead he held his ground, refusing to let me chase him away. “What the hell happened to you, Charlotte?” he said softly. “What happened to make you this way?”

I went very still, unnerved by the shift in the conversation. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Cut the crap. You don't need to pretend with me.”

I saw the resolve in his eyes. He was calling me out, refusing to let me hide behind my bravado any longer. The realisation sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I suddenly felt ridiculous, standing here half naked. I dropped to the floor, scooping up my bra, fumbling as I put it on. I didn't like the turn of this conversation. Not one little bit. There was nothing for it but distraction.

“You know, if you weren't up to it, you could've just said.” I kept my voice light, as I picked up my dress. “Performance anxiety's nothing to be ashamed of.”

But Richard wasn't going to be put off that easily. “Charlotte, what happened?”

I started to back away. This was getting too deep. “So I'm guessing I should be on my way.” I made a point of glancing at my watch. “And don't worry—I never kiss and tell. This'll stay just between us.”

“It was a long time ago, wasn't it?” he persisted. “But still not long enough for you to move on.”

What was he saying? What was he implying? Deep in my subconscious, I felt a flicker of recognition, but I didn't want to think about that now.

“What can I say?” I said instead. “It's been a fun night, but I guess we weren't meant to be. Let's put this down to experience.”

“Charlotte—”

“Just drop it, will you?” My eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. Even I was surprised by the anguish in my voice. “Why can't you just drop this already?”

“Because I care about you!” he exploded, dark eyes glittering with anger. “Because I hate to see you hurting like this! I'm tired of seeing you trying to self-destruct. And I think you're tired of it, too. So talk to me.” His voice was gentler now. “Tell me what happened to you. And maybe you and I can sort this out once and for all.”

I stared at him for a long moment. “You really want to know what happened to me?” I said finally.

His eyes were solemn, as he said, “I do.”

“Then here it is. My big, dark secret.” I paused dramatically, and then allowed a smirk to cross my face. “I failed to get laid tonight.”

I could see Richard's disappointment with my answer, but I didn't care.

“Now, if that's the end of amateur psychology hour, I'm going home.” I strode for the door.

“At least let me call you a car.”

His voice was so filled with defeat that it made my heart contract. Richard was usually so strong. But I had done this to him. I had broken him.

And yet still I wouldn't relent. I grabbed my jacket from the hallway cupboard, and yanked the door open. “Don't bother. I can get home fine on my own.”

“Charlotte, please!” His hand was on the door, holding it closed. “However angry you are at me right now, I want to make sure that you get home safely.”

His eyes were pleading with me. Suddenly I remembered his confession about his fear of losing people he loved—a fear that had come from the death of his parents and my brother.

“Why? Because you're worried something might happen to me?” My lips twisted into a nasty grin. Before, the knowledge had made me feel for him. Now, it was just another way to wound him. “That's your demon, not mine.”

The shock of my cruelty made him loosen his grip, and gave me the opportunity I was looking for. I got the door open. And then I was out in the hallway, shrugging my jacket on as I headed for the lift.

Moments later, I stumbled from the apartment block. The bitter night air was like ice against my bare face, freezing the tears to my cheeks. I hadn't dressed for the weather, and would have been better off waiting in reception for a cab. But I just wanted to be gone now, away from this place. So I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my thin jacket, and concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other. Keep walking, keep moving, and eventually everything will be all right.

I headed towards the Tube station. At the end of the street, I paused and looked back into the still, silent night. No
Richard. And even though I didn't blame him, I still couldn't help feeling disappointed.