Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

He glowers. “He didn’t show up.”

“Excuse?”

“Didn’t leave one. But never mind that, you’ve been crying.”

I still mid-lick, and his eyes descend on my tongue before I recover. “What?”

“You’ve been crying.”

“No, I haven’t.”

His eyes are moving across my face. “You have. Is it the douchebag?”

I don’t immediately answer. I look around and spot a trash can nearby. I get up and quickly throw the last of the cone inside before settling back down on the chair. Aidan is still watching me, waiting for my response. “It’s not because of him,” I finally say.

“Are you sure? You’ve been going on about being married or separated or it’s complicated, and frankly, it’s confusing. If I’m here having ice cream with you, does that mean you’re done with him?”

If I tell Aidan I’m still separated from Derek, he may seduce me, and I’ll be too weak to resist. I’ll fall for his charm, and he may just wind up using me. I don’t know if I’m emotionally ready for that. For now, saying it's complicated works. It keeps things blurry enough he might hold back.

“Not exactly,” I lie in a small voice.

His jaw clenches. “We’re close to your apartment building. Aren’t you worried he’ll find us?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“He’s out drinking. He probably won’t be back for several hours.”

“Is that the norm?”

I nod calmly. “Yeah.”

Aidan redirects his sudden dark gaze to his cone and demolishes it in one large bite, swallowing it, that Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Only Aidan can make eating an ice cream look like porn. Fuck, I’m wet. I look over every inch of his beautiful face, taking in his square jaw, thick lips, and serious gaze. This man isn’t meant to exist in real life. Every businessman I have met has been fat and balding. They didn’t have large biceps or a smirk that hit a woman’s g-spot like a punch. Aidan is making them all look bad. Shame on him.

“Why did you agree to see me?” I ask him quietly.

His eyes are back on mine. “I told you before.”

“Tell me again.”

“You intrigue me.”

“I’m not intriguing,” I reply. “You’ll find that out very shortly. You’re wasting your time on me, Aidan.”

“You’re under the assumption I’m wasting my time because I still want to fuck you.”

I raise my brows, disappointment on the horizon. “You don’t?”

He smirks, and my heart clenches. “Of course, I do, but that doesn’t mean I will. It also doesn’t mean I’m here for it either. To be honest, I just like you, Ivy.”

“You like me?”

“Yeah, I like you.”

He likes me.

Does that mean he has no intention of using me then? I don’t know yet.

I lick at my lips, pondering his words, oddly content by this new development, and mutter, “I thought I would never see you again.”

He just looks at me for several seconds. His eyes are striking and serious. He goes from playful to solemn too quickly to catch up. “I didn’t think I would either,” he admits slowly.

“What made you reach out in the first place? I know you thought about me, but…actually reaching out is another step entirely.”

He looks just as confused. “I don’t know, Ivy. I’ve been asking myself that a lot. I know I’m the last thing you need right now.”

My response is fast. “That’s not true. I need friends. I don’t…I don’t have many. We can be friends.” God, I sound desperate. It’s not becoming of me.

“Friends,” he repeats like it’s a dirty word. “Ivy, with the way you’re looking at me right now, I know that hell would have to freeze over twice for us to be friends. Besides, women don’t friend-zone me. That’s a fact.”

I let out my first ever laugh since my downward spiral in the apartment and the sound surprises me. “You’re so fucking cocky, it’s disgusting.”

“Ah, I missed that vulgar mouth. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

My cheeks burn. This guy is killing me. “No flirting, Aidan.”

“Not flirting, Ivy. Flirting would be telling you that vulgar mouth would look tasty around my cock.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck.

A shiver runs through me. Lust, hot and heavy, settles in the pit of me. We stare at each other for some time. I’m hardly breathing. Truth is, I want him just as much as I did on that plane, and the way he’s looking at me right now scares me. I’m so goddamn vulnerable, I’m not sure I’d make the right judgment call if he…if he what? Kissed me? Touched me?

“This is wrong,” I whisper, but I don’t feel guilty. “Isn’t it?”

“Define wrong,” he whispers back. “We’re just talking right now. I’m not touching you. I’m not trying to seduce you. This is innocent.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Who will know? Your sort-of husband who is drinking for hours instead of fucking you and doting on you and trying to win you back? You’re fucking gorgeous, Ivy, it’s almost irresponsible leaving you home alone. I’d be showing you off every time I stepped out in public.”

My smile is faint, wistful. “I’m a normal girl, Aidan, that you’ve somehow blown out of proportion inside your head and, see, I’m not being insecure saying that. I’m being legit. I’m normal.”

“Who do you expect me to dribble over?”

“An available woman for starters.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, and a woman who has her shit together and doesn’t wear two-dollar bangles she bought from a flea market.”

He looks down at them. “They look pretty miserable. How many hands you think went through them?”

I chuckle and shake my wrist, making the bangles clash audibly together. “I’ll have it forensically tested. I predict three missing persons.”

“I think you’re underestimating.”

“I’m trying to be positive.”

He’s smiling, amused. “So, a single woman who doesn’t wear two-dollar bangles from a flea market?”

“Oh, and she has to be a model.”

This time he laughs – it sounds deep and makes my stomach tighten – looking straight into my eyes. “Of course she does. You know, I never understood that.”

“Understood what?”

“The model appeal. They’re just not my thing.”

“They’re gorgeous.”

He nods, looking briefly down at the table thoughtfully tapping his finger