Wanted by Him (Wanted Series #1) Read online

  Wanted by Him

  Hazel Kelly

  © 2015 Hazel Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, brands, organizations, places, and situations is purely coincidental.

  “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”

  -Eden Ahbez

  Chapter 1: Wyatt

  I figured the least I could do was wait until she stopped breathing so heavily.

  Plus, she was twirling her fingertips over my scalp with the little energy she had left, which was a rare treat and the closest thing to cuddling I ever got.

  "That was amazing," she said, rolling her head towards me. Her hair was a mess of blonde curls on the pillow and the sheets were crumpled just below her melon sized tits.

  I was pretty sure they weren't real. I'd done a fair amount of independent research, and they didn't move quite as much as they should've for how hard I was fucking her during the course of the last half hour.

  But they were beautifully done, probably by some surgical genius in the city, but I wasn't about to ask. Instead I just ogled them.

  Cause that's what women really want- undivided attention any way it's being served.

  But it's not as simple as that.

  I've found I can't just go around appreciating tits in the street that I haven't been given permission to admire. However, if I can get a woman naked and spread legged, she'll let me ogle her any way I like as long as I make her nakedness worthwhile.

  In fact, I think the moment a man stops making that appreciation priority number one is when relationships go to shit. Sure, the women play their role, typically by letting their instinct to nag override their instinct to seduce, but they’re never entirely at fault.

  Men fuck up, too. Usually in a variety of more creative ways, but one of the most obvious is forgetting to ogle. Which is an unforgivable mistake.

  After all, women are beautiful creatures. I know because I've been studying them since I became a fan… which dates back to a hot summer day in Greg Hopkin’s tree house when I saw the first naked female body that didn’t belong to my mother.

  And ever since then I've been hooked.

  Cherise I think her name was. Probably because of her dark red hair. Not that I'd ever met a woman with hair that color in the real world. I doubt it really existed. Kind of like women named Cherise.

  Anyway, one of the biggest mistakes my friends have made is that after they get the girl (and the honeymoon period runs its course), they forget to do the one thing that women really want- besides oral sex. And that thing is to be shamelessly admired.

  In the beginning, guys are great at making sure their new love interest feels like the sexiest woman on the planet, punctuating every other exchange with clandestine ass slaps and brazen attempts to look down her shirt, squeeze her tits, or press their hard on against her backside when she's not expecting it.

  Which is smart cause women love that shit.

  They want to be adored like the sexual vixens they’re capable of being. They don't want their femininity and their curves taken for granted. Otherwise, how are they supposed to know their man feels differently about them than he does about other women? Like his mom or the lady in the diner with the legendary overbite.

  As far as I can tell, women don’t assume they've maintained their status as their man's favorite sex kitten unless he proves it to her regularly. And that's what men forget to do. They don't forget to want sex, but they get complacent about the fact that they're lying there with a real goddamn Cherise.

  Sure, it’s fine to show a lady a bit of respect when she's dressed for work, nervous about something, or making an effort to be taken seriously, but it’s a big mistake to show her respect once she’s naked.

  In that case- no matter how many times it’s happened before and regardless of what she says- she wants to be treated like a piece of meat. She wants to be devoured- with his eyes, his mouth, his tongue. Even his words if he’s clever enough.

  The point is, a woman will never open her mouth and ask a man to take out the trash or fold the towels if he’s busy making her feel like a goddess. In fact, she won't interrupt him with anything but sweet nothings as long as he keeps her hungry as fuck for his admiration.

  Or at least that's how it's been in my experience.

  That being said, it's been a long time since I pursued something past the honeymoon phase. Or even into it for that matter.

  These days, I tended to keep women at an arm’s- okay, maybe a dick's- length and that's where it stopped.

  Cause I wasn’t interested in anything more serious. Not cause I didn't love women. Just cause I had more important things to worry about.

  But I was still doing what I could to show as many women a good time as possible because I'm a nice guy like that.

  Besides, I have needs that can’t be ignored.

  Tess rolled onto her side to face me and began scratching the area between my pecs. "So," she said. "How do you like your eggs?"

  "In the morning," I said, figuring it was probably sometime after one. I'd only arrived at the bar around nine, and while she'd been well on her way to drunk by the time I showed up, I couldn't have spent more than a few hours in her company.

  She smiled. It was a playful, confident smile, the kind that often came easily to women right after a good fuck.

  "I know," she said. "But that's my way of saying that I'll make you breakfast later.”

  And that was my cue to leave. If she'd caught her breath enough to initiate some bullshit conversation than I'd be better off in my own bed.

  "That won't be necessary," I said. "I already told you I can't stay." I put my hand over hers and slid it off my chest.

  She furrowed her brow. "No you didn't."

  "Yeah, I did," I lied. "I said it right after you invited me back cause I knew how hard it was going to be to leave you."

  Her lower lip popped out in a pout. "You'll stay a little while longer, though, won't you?" she asked. "Just some pillow talk or something? That's all I'm after."

  If she thought I came back to her place to hear her take on the day’s headlines, she was even dumber than I thought. But it would be easier to walk out on her now that she was lying to me, too. Cause pillow talk was never all a woman wanted.

  Any woman that said she didn’t want it all- romance, hand holding, soft kisses, foot rubs, and long walks on the beach- was lying through her dick sucking lips. And maybe not just to me. Maybe even to herself.

  And while delusional women weren’t exactly a rare breed, it was important to avoid them for health reasons.

  "I'm afraid I can't stay," I said, standing up and reaching for my pants on the floor.

  Tess sat up and pulled the sheets around her, hugging her breasts to her chest so hard I was momentarily distracted by the cleavage that formed between them.

  I pulled my shirt over my head and looked around for the condom so I could throw it away properly. That way, I wouldn’t be anything but a memory by the time the sun came up.

  I walked into her bathroom, wrapped it in some tissue, and tossed it in the garbage. When I stepped back into her room, she was making a face so sad it almost made me want to fuck her again so I could leave her smiling.

  "Eddie?"

  I slipped my wallet in my back pocket and moved towards the door.

  "Eddie?"

  It took me a moment, but by the time I had my hand on the door knob, I realized she was talking
to me.

  "Will you at least call me?"

  "Yeah," I said, turning to face her. "Of course."

  She squinted at me. "You don't have my number."

  I swallowed.

  "You never had any intention of calling me, did you?"

  I opened the door behind me. "Look, Tess. I told you I wasn't looking for anything serio-"

  "It's Jess."

  Shit. "Oh right," I said, running a hand over my head. "Sorry about tha-"

  "Why don't you get the fuck out?"

  I decided then that thanking her for a great night might not go down well. Plus, getting the fuck out was exactly what I was trying to do so I didn’t waste time.

  Best of all, I didn’t even feel bad. After all, how could I feel bad walking out on a girl who didn't even know my real name? Sure, I was the one that lied to her in the first place, but still. She'd been getting my name wrong all night and I'd been too polite to tell her.

  Or maybe polite wasn’t the right word. Maybe I was just a bit of a cad. But at least I showed her a good time. More than once if my memory served me.

  Though god knows why I went with Eddie?

  That was a new one.

  I supposed it could have been that Van Halen documentary I watched last weekend, but it hardly mattered now.

  I’d probably never see her again anyway.

  Besides, titty fucking that expensive chest of hers had been well worth a little harmless deception.

  Chapter 2: Addison

  It was happening even as I sat in the doctor’s office. Two heavy beats followed by a pause so long it was scary and then faster beats suddenly in rapid succession, as if my heart were trying to make up for the ones it skipped.

  I took a deep breath and checked my phone, scrolling through the notes I’d made for my presentation later that afternoon. It was crucial that I nailed it.

  Bringing in a client like Johnson & Friggis was the kind of thing that could seal the deal for my promotion. So everything had to be perfect, and I had to stay calm, especially while they grilled me afterwards as they were notorious for doing.

  In fact, rumor had it that they were among the ranks of companies most likely to make consultants cry, and while I ran out of tears a long time ago, the stress I was under was making me jumpy lately, and it was vital that I didn't let them see me sweat.

  So I kept my mind on my pitch and hoped the new intern wasn’t fucking up my PowerPoint as I sat there. It wouldn’t be the first time. But I knew better than to rely on special effects, regardless of how modest they were. I needed to dazzle them with my words, with promises I knew my colleagues and I could deliver on.

  I had to show my boss I could be trusted to take a project all the way from start to finish, and on top of that, I had to achieve the client's objectives while finding something else we could help them with in the future.

  Only then would I make myself indispensable and prove that I was ready for more responsibility.

  "Addison Reed?"

  I looked up from my phone at the nurse with the clipboard. "That’s me."

  "Dr. Bower's ready for you."

  I dropped my phone in my bag and stood up, smoothing my pencil skirt down over my hips. Fortunately, the nurse's walk was more of a waddle than a strut so I caught up to her quite easily. In fact, she moved so slowly I found it annoying. I'd seen people fired for less at my company, and I wondered what it would be like to take my sweet time on the job like that. Not that I would ever dream of it.

  In the five years I'd been working at Wilkinson Consulting, I could count on my hands how many times I'd actually eaten lunch away from my desk. Taking clients out was different. That was part of the job. That was work.

  But lunch breaks and vacation days were generally associated with people who lacked ambition, and people who lacked ambition didn't last very long.

  Which was fine by me.

  I had no patience for people who stopped to smell the roses or people who made small talk. I didn't have time for that shit if I was going to achieve what I wanted, which was security both financially and in my career.

  After all, I figured that after spending the first eighteen years of my life worrying, the least I deserved was to enjoy some stability as an adult.

  And I was willing to do whatever it took to get it.

  The nurse pushed a door open and gestured for me to go inside what appeared to be an even smaller waiting room as Dr. Bower was nowhere in sight.

  "Dr. Bower will be with you in a moment," she said, pulling the door shut behind her before I could ask how much longer I’d have to wait.

  Fortunately, just as I began to panic that my colleagues might think I was taking advantage of my lunch break, Dr. Bower appeared, looking as thin and healthy as a whippet.

  "Hello, Addison," she said with a voice so tranquil she was destined to be in medicine.

  "Hi," I said. "How are you?"

  "I'm very well, thanks," she said, pulling out the desk chair beside where I was sitting. "Though I wish I could say the same for you."

  My face fell. "Why? What's wrong with me?" I asked, thinking the worst. Words like cancer and tumor and incurable floated like whispers across the back of my mind.

  "Relax," she said. "It's nothing serious-"

  My shoulders dropped two inches following my sigh of relief.

  "Yet," she added.

  "Yet?" I asked, glancing at the closed manila folder in front of her. "What does that mean?"

  "It means your blood pressure is through the roof."

  "Okay," I said, thinking that her comment really had more to do with capitalism than it did with me. "So what do I need? A prescription or something?"

  She shook her head.

  "Oh come on," I said. "There's a pill for everything these days."

  "Addison, this isn't a joke."

  I swallowed.

  "You have the blood pressure of someone twice your age."

  "Uh-huh."

  "And if you were in your forties or fifties, I would prescribe something for you," she said. "And it would be the kind of medication you’d have to take every day for the rest of your life."

  I nodded.

  "But you're only twenty-seven, and besides your blood pressure and the palpitations you're having, you’re in perfect health."

  "So what do you think is causing the problem?"

  "Stress," she said. "There's no question. Your physical symptoms are indicative of someone who is putting their mind and body under so much pressure your system can’t keep up."

  "Tell me something I don't know."

  "It's not sustainable," she said. "And even if you think you can cope with it now, it will catch up with you and manifest itself in potentially life threatening ways."

  "So I'm doing this to myself?"

  She nodded.

  "And you're not going to give me medicine for it even though you know how to fix it?"

  "That's not entirely accurate," she said. “The problem is that normally when people are prescribed pills for their blood pressure, they have other symptoms and conditions that you don't have, like being older for one."

  "So you're not going to cure me because of my age?"

  She crossed her legs towards me and leaned back in her chair. "Even if I gave them to you, they wouldn't cure you. They'd only buy you time."

  "So what do you suggest?"

  "You need to change your lifestyle."

  I tilted my head at her. "In what way?"

  "Well, there are lots of ways to reduce stress," she said. "But you could start by sleeping more, cutting back on your hours and responsibility at work, and having more sex."

  "I can’t make any of those changes right now. I'm up for a promotion."

  "Maybe you should take some time off.”

  "Did you not hear me?"

  "I heard you," she said. "But I think a promotion is probably the last thing you need."

  I pursed my lips, trying to figure out how Dr. Bower thought she was
serving her Hippocratic Oath with this garbage.

  "I can't make you take my advice, Addison. All I can do is tell you what I think is best."

  "Which is really no help to me right now."

  "I hope you don't mean that," she said. "I'm trying to save you a lot of heartache- literally- in the future."