His Terms

She nodded and smiled. “I know, and it’s okay.” Sorcha didn’t bother admitting that today she had snuck in glimpses of him working, or the concentration he exhibited, and of how much she wanted to kiss the look of determination off his face.

It may have only been a week that they had spent together, and those seven days had gone quickly, but it seemed like they had been together for far longer, even if it sounded silly and cliché.

“You’re thinking an awful lot right now,” he said deeply.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately, especially after the party and the whole Beatrice thing.” She spoke just as softly. Something passed across his face, and she wanted to ask him what he was thinking.

“Yeah, not the most memorable time of this week.”

That was an understatement, but she was about to tell him that what she had been thinking about concerned them, and how she wanted to see where they could go. Sorcha didn’t want this to be the end of their time together.

She might have hated him before all of this, and a week wasn’t nearly long enough to determine if anything more than a sexual relationship could blossom, but she knew she wanted to try.

But she also knew that Rian had a lot on his plate right now, and that they had plenty of time to work the small stuff out.

“Are you ready, Miss Case?” Theodore asked from behind her.

“I’m ready.” She stared at Rian, and then leaned forward to kiss him soundly. For several seconds all they did was stand there, their lips pressed together and their breathing the same hurried tempo.

“I’m not about to let you go,” he said against her mouth, but it was so soft she didn’t know if she had heard him correctly.

Pulling away shouldn’t have been so difficult. Sorcha wanted to tell him that she didn’t want him to let her go, that she wanted to go further, but she didn’t say anything, and instead smiled. “I should go and let you get back to work.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

No, it wasn’t, but she did need to get home, even if she wanted to stay here with him.

He shoved his hands in his front pockets. “I’ll see you Monday, Sorcha.”

“Okay.” She turned and headed toward the front door, but glanced over her shoulder once more. There he stood, dress slacks and button-down shirt all crisp and perfect, his shirtsleeves rolled up his muscular forearms, and the first few buttons left undone at his collar. He was wealthy and gorgeous, but that wasn’t why she felt this way.

No, she felt this way because these were the first real emotions she had ever experienced. She didn’t want to ignore that because of the one side of Rian that he portrayed the majority of the time. With one last look at him, she left, and went back to her apartment, and the only thing on her mind was what in the hell the future held?

She arrived back at her place, grabbed her bag, and watched from the corner as the black luxury car pulled away.

“Hi,” Cora said from the front steps of Sorcha’s apartment, a cigarette in her hand.

Sorcha had messaged her friend on the way back from Rian’s, so she was just glad she wasn’t going to be alone, and had someone to talk this out with. They both entered the building, climbed the steps, and once inside of her place she shut the door and leaned against it.

“So, tell me. The texts didn’t give me shit,” Cora said, the curiosity clear on her face.

Sorcha pushed away from the door and walked past the kitchen, but she stopped when she saw a vase with so many white and red roses in it she couldn’t even count them all. On the table was a card and box wrapped with blue tissue and tied with a white bow. Sorcha glanced at Cora, who was propped against the couch. “What’s this?”

Cora shrugged. “No clue. There was a note when I got here twenty minutes ago from the landlord that you had a package at his office. I picked it up for you.”

Sorcha nodded. “Thank you.” She set her bag down and grabbed the card. Inside it just read, “It’s not over”, and it was signed with the initials RH. The postage on the card stated that these had been ordered today. “God, he had these sent over while I was still at his house,” she said to herself, but Cora came to stand beside her.

She whistled low under her breath. “Seems like a week was plenty of time to have the arrogant Mr. Hartford falling head over heels for you,” Cora said and snatched the card out of her hands. Cora read the card, and set it on the table. “Open the box.”