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Chapter Four

Nathan

I planned this meeting with her one week ago, and I’ve geared myself up for her arrival as best as I could, even telling my assistant to give me a heads-up when she’s on her way to my office.

Still, nothing prepares me for the sight of her again.

She’s beyond gorgeous. Honey blonde hair, tamed into a neat bun at her nape, big, green eyes that are darker and more muted than they were five years ago, and a mouth that could draw even the most devout man into wondering what it would be like to crush his lips to hers.

Seeing her for the first time in five years last week was like being hit by a freight train. My only saving grace was that I was one of many observers in the room.

As the chief medical director, my presence wasn’t necessary at that meeting, but Rafe Alvarez, my new head of pediatrics, asked for my help in ironing out the details of our collaboration with the Guardian Angels Network on the KidStation project.

The NGO director, Walter Heche, brought the KidStation team to the meeting.

Imagine my shock upon realizing that the head of that team would be none other than Tessa Blackwell.

The girl who subtly inserted herself under my thick, unfeeling skin.

The one who, in the twinkle of an eye, turned into an irresistibly sexy woman, tailor-made to obliterate my common sense with her words alone.

The moment she entered the conference room, I was physically unable to look away from her for more than two seconds at a time.

Good thing she did a lot of the talking so I had an excuse to keep looking at her.

She was magnificent.

Even as a teenager, Tess had the uncanny skill of getting my attention.

The first thing that caught me was her distinct cursive handwriting in the compelling letter she wrote me while in high school.

I’d been immediately curious to meet the writer. I mean, I didn’t know any adults who could write so beautifully, let alone a teenager.

So, I’d had my assistant write her back, inviting the entire impact team to sit down with me.

Then, I saw Tessa Blackwell in person. A shy but outstanding sixteen-year-old with expressive green eyes and a quick wit.

One who was unfortunate enough to be adopted by the one couple on earth I cannot stand.

But, I recognized and nurtured her interest in studying medicine.

In time, I also saw her struggle with grief when she suddenly lost her mother.

And then, finally, to my shock, I became the object of her desire five years ago.

I often prided myself in how controlled I am. But that night, I was hers to control.

And as she moved sinuously against me, a shocking thought smashed through my defenses like a sledgehammer.

Tessa Blackwell is mine.

More than anything, I’d wanted to put my mark on her. To have her writhing beneath me as I pounded her into a screaming orgasm and spurted my essence deep inside her.

For twenty years, my ambition has been to convert every Blackwell triumph into a King conquest.

And now, Tess Blackwell, the forbidden fruit of my long-standing rivalry with John Blackwell, is being offered to me by Walter Heche on a platter of gold.

Fate truly has a flair for the dramatic.

Except that last week’s meeting was like watching a live performance of indifference. Tess barely glanced my way.

I hated it.

So, in a mix of exasperation and curiosity, I asked for a meeting with the head of KidStation – Tess herself. Walter Heche, practically tripped over himself to set it up, overjoyed to have the CMD personally invested in the project.

The brief flash of irritation on Tess's face before she composed herself was all I needed to see.

And now there she stands, in my office, dressed in a soft, silk shirt tucked into a short, black skirt that lovingly accentuates the curves of that made-for-sin body.

“Welcome,” I say, leaning back in my swivel chair and gesturing for her to sit opposite me in front of my desk.

She doesn’t make eye contact, and her lips are tight when she says, “Thanks, Dr. King.”

Nathan . I want to correct her, but I stop myself. “I was surprised to see you on the project last week, you know.”

She narrows her eyes for a fraction of a second. The expression is gone in an instant, her face falling into a mask of indifference.

“Well, it was my proposal, and I happen to be managing this campaign on behalf of the Guardian Angels Network.”

“I thought you were studying medicine at UCLA.”

Her gaze finally meets mine, and I see the emotions in her expressive eyes. Distrust and hurt. Something squeezes in my chest.

Tess used to look at me with open trust, and perhaps a bit of awe, and I didn’t know how much it meant to me until just now– being the center of attention of those green eyes that could probably solve quantum physics on a coffee break.

“I guess I found medicine too restrictive. Not to mention, boring.”

I know she’s not referring to the course, and a part of me wants to smile at her innuendo, proud of her sass.

The other part yearns to persuade her just how fun I can really be.

Instead of doing either, I just nod in understanding. “That’s a shame. You seemed really interested in a career in pediatrics.”

She shrugs nonchalantly and the action draws my attention to her breasts.

I snap my eyes back up to meet hers, but apparently not fast enough because the glint in their clear green depths tell me that she caught my wandering gaze.

Get it together man.

Tess continues speaking as though nothing happened. “I still love children. I just found a better way to help them and a way that I’m much more passionate about.”

I hear her say the word “passionate,” and immediately, my cock twitches.

Passionate was the way she dug her nails into my thighs and moaned my name .

Of course, my eyes have to find the perfectly manicured fingers she has intertwined on top of the desk.

And imagine them wrapped around my cock.

Fuck.

I promised myself I was not going to let my long-neglected libido run the show. I really should have gotten laid after I saw her last week.

Although something tells me it wouldn’t have made any difference.

I force myself to focus back on the conversation. “I have to agree that you’re very good at non-profit management, Tess. The Children’s Impact campaign you ran in high school is still one of the best there’s been for decades.”

I should know. I attended the same high school, and I’m still a member on the school board.

She says nothing, so I continue speaking. “So, was there a reason why you chose a five-year co-op program instead of a straightforward three or four-year degree?”

For a moment, I think that she won’t answer, but finally, she shrugs again, and this time, I manage to keep my gaze trained on her face.

A soft look enters her eyes. “It was less expensive that way.”

I wait for her to elaborate, trying to mask my surprise. The Blackwells come from money. The last few generations have not been as prudent with resources as their predecessors, so their wealth has steadily declined over the decades.

John, the sole surviving heir, has somehow managed to hang on to the last two orchards, much to my annoyance.

He should still have enough money to put his daughter through college. Unless the jerk didn’t set anything aside for her, that is.

Again, she doesn’t say more, so I push. “What about your father, Tess?”

Her eyes harden. “My dad and I don’t see eye-to-eye on a great number of things, and we’re not on speaking terms. Not since my mom died, anyway. To change colleges and move to another city, I was going to need a lot of money, so it made sense to go for the cheaper option.”

I know I just heard the short version. She would have needed more than just money. She most likely had to take a gap year or two, transfer her credits from UCLA, whip up a kickass application, apply for financial aid, and possibly work herself sore to achieve all that.

And she’d done it for the last five years.

Tess Blackwell might look like she just walked out a man’s dirtiest fantasy, but under all that sex appeal is a spine of steel. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.” She says, only it sounds a lot more like “Fuck you.”

She’s angry. Still? After all this time?

“So, tell me about your proposal, Tess.” I want to keep her talking and get behind the professional front she’s trying so hard to maintain.

“Walter already did. And so did I in the detailed onboarding email I sent out.”

“Yes, I’m aware, but I want to hear you tell it.”

Her nostrils flare, the mask starting to slip off her face. But she takes a deep breath, expertly sliding it back on.

“Okay, imagine kids living with cancers and long-term illnesses. Now imagine them in a vibrant world where they're no longer on the sidelines but right at the heart of it all,” Tess explains, her eyes lighting up with every word.

She pauses for a breath, and I lean in, captivated, signaling her to continue.

“In this world, they can dive into their school work, lose themselves in fun games, and forge friendships. Think about it, even a chance at a first crush, with, of course, parental consent. It's just the tip of the iceberg, really. The possibilities are endless.”

“It's not just a platform; it's a lifeline, a game-changer,” I say, genuinely impressed.

A subtle smile flickers on her lips, a clear sign of her dedication. She's not just in this job; she lives it.

“So, when are you available to start?" I ask, eager but wanting to align with her timeline.

Walter Heche hinted they could start right away, but I'm curious about Tess's personal timeline. I'm ready to offer any flexibility she needs.

“We're set to hit the ground running,” she says with a spark of determination. “We plan to immerse ourselves in the pediatric wards and clinics this month.”

“Sounds great. Thank you,Tess.” She isn't just planning a project. She's orchestrating a revolution for these kids.

She looks up at me. “Well, I figure the sooner we kick things off, the sooner I can be out of here.”

Wow.

That statement grates on my nerves like a discordant note when, in fact, it should be music to my ears.

Tess, undeniably stunning, will be a distraction. My work is too important and I can't afford to let anything, not even someone as compelling as her, sidetrack me.

So it’s best she starts ASAP and leaves quickly.

Before the less rational part of me escapes its tightly held confines and takes charge.

“In that case,” I say, “Rafe—Dr. Alvarez—will work with you to map out what your team needs and create a schedule that works for everyone.”

“Alright, Dr. King.”

“Nathan, please.” This time, the words roll out before I can stop them.

I tell myself it’s only because she's known me for ten years, not because I’m dying to hear my name on her lips again.

Surely, my mind must have conjured up the intense pleasure I felt the last time it happened.

She only nods tightly, and I see from the stubborn jut of her lovely chin that she has zero intention of calling me that.

I huff out a breath.

Christ, this woman is pushing buttons I hadn’t even realized I had. Her indifference is messing with my head.

I refuse to cope with her cold mask one second longer. I want to see the playful twinkle in her eyes and the dimpled smile that puts even the prickliest person at ease.

I’m going to crush this wall of ice, right fucking now. “Tell me something, Tess. Why did you even leave California in the first place?”

Her eyes snap to mine, bright with fury.

That question hit a nerve.

“Rich of you to ask me that since you ran me out of town.”

Good, we’re getting somewhere.

“I would have believed that was true, especially with you leaving UCLA for Boston except that I checked your resume last week. You’d already been in the Boston co-op program when you returned to Valencia.”

“So?” she murmurs testily.

“So, you’d already left, anyway. I didn’t run you out, as you say. I suppose the better question is, why did you come back to Valencia all the way from Boston if you weren’t speaking to your dad at that point? Somehow, I can’t believe it was for the Annual Citrus Fest.”

The fact that she evades my question makes me wonder if it had anything to do with something that has been niggling in my head since last week.

Did she come back to see me?

She’d looked worried when she’d come up to me right after my speech, but we kept getting interrupted.

And then, she came back to me that evening and showed me that my resistance was, indeed, as brittle as glass.

Something keeps telling me that she came all the way down from Boston to see me that night.

Conceited much? My sensible brain hisses at my leaping heart.

“You were needlessly callous that night,” Tess says instead, as if she knows I’m thinking about that night.

True. The night I rejected her is still imprinted in my memory. Casual sex isn’t something I do.

I’ve spent the last two decades with the singular focus on obliterating my enemies and expanding my own empire to the exclusion of almost everything else.

Apart from friends I can fuck and talk business with, I don’t have the time or inclination to meet women.

But the moment she moaned my name that night, I was horrified at the sheer willpower I’d needed to summon to restrain myself from tearing off her clothes and rutting her into the weathered wooden planks of the pier.

Because although she’s a Blackwell, she’s also Mary’s daughter. Adopted daughter, but still. I should have been repulsed. Instead, I’d been furiously turned on to the point that she’d noticed.

Thinking of Mary Blackwell makes my fingers curl into fists now, the way they always do every time I remember what happened all those years ago.

Tess most likely has no idea I know much more about her family than I let on. That I could never stand her mother and that her father hates me.

Right now, she watches me, expecting an answer. So, I give her the only one that makes sense.

“I spoke to you that way because someone had to yank you out of your downward spiral.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “I wasn’t going down any spiral.”

“You were, Tess,” I say gently. “You’ve never liked the town, but you bent over backward trying to get it to like you.”

I used the word town as a euphemism for father because I’m not sure how much of the hard truth she’s ready to accept.

The last time I talked about her mother, she didn’t take it well so I can only imagine what she would do if I were to mention her troubled relationship with her only surviving family member.

Her nostrils flare. “I was doing no such thing.”

“You held on to that rejection and tried using sex to numb the pain. Wasn’t it after you learned not to care and left everything behind that your life started to really take off?”

“You’re wrong. ” Her voice is thick with emotion, and her cheeks redden with anger, or maybe embarrassment? Perhaps it’s both.

“Which part is wrong? That you weren’t trying to get me to have sex with you to get over the pain or that things haven’t improved for you since you stopped looking back?”

“I wasn’t.”

I cock my head in doubt.

“What were you doing, then?”

She crosses her arms, distracting me again as her cleavage becomes more prominent.

She needs to stop doing that.

You need to stop looking, perv, she’s dressed modestly.

Again, she notices the direction of my gaze. This time, she doesn’t ignore my blatant stare.

She looks down at herself, then deliberately lets her eyes rise slowly back up to me in a way that feels like a hot tongue caressing my naked skin.

Fuck. Don’t do that, Tess.

The eyes that finally creep up to meet mine are half-lidded and sultry.

Exactly the way she looked that night by the lake.

I know even before she speaks that the temptress is back, and she’s about to say something obscene, so I steel myself.

“I came on to you because I was horny and I wanted you to fuck me, Dr. King. You know, that urge adults get from time to time without needing to be psychoanalyzed? I certainly didn’t need you to give me a dickish sermon or act like my father.”

Christ, her mouth is lethal.

Speaking of fathers, I state the obvious, but not because I think she’s missed the fact. On the contrary, something tells me that particular kink turns her on.

“I was your father’s age, you know. I still am.”

She shrugs. “That didn’t stop you from getting hard for me, though.”

Okay. This conversation is not going the way I thought it might when I started it.

I admit that I may have triggered the derailment when I started pushing her to talk, but Tess has taken charge and is now leading us down a dangerous path.

Because I’m rock-hard and throbbing, and the little speech I gave in my head about staying focused now sounds like the ramblings of a lunatic.

“That was only a natural reaction any man would have to a lapdance, Tess,” I reply, still striving for composure.

“And what about right now, Dr. King?” She purrs, “What’s your excuse?”

Christ. I’m done fighting this. If that’s how she wants to play it, let’s fucking go.

Not bothering to deny what she’s saying, I stand and round the table toward her. “I have no excuse whatsoever.”

I see her eyes widen as I approach. I don’t crowd her, though. I only lean my butt against the desk while looking down at her.

She stares at the bulge in my pants, then looks up at me questioningly.

Holding my palm out to her, I wait until she puts her delicate hand in mine to say, “You are driving me crazy, Tess, and you know it.”

Relieved that she hasn’t resisted me, I gently pull her to her feet and toward me until she stands in between my spread thighs, about a foot away from my body.

“Come here,” I urge, daring her to close the gap between us.

She doesn’t obey. Instead, she takes a couple of steps back.

Her gaze falls to my crotch again, and she slowly, deliberately licks her full, pink lips. In response, my cock jerks behind my suddenly too-tight pants.

I’m pretty sure she saw that, too.

“Dr. King, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not interested in any of that.” She gives me another slow once-over. “I’m here to work. Nothing else. So, I suggest you try harder to keep your hands to yourself.”

She manages to sound both scathing and seductive, making it hard to think straight as images of bending her over my desk and fucking her into submission begin playing over and over in my head.

“Duly noted, Ms. Blackwell.” She means to torture me. I can take it.

Hopefully.

My sexual restraint is legendary. I’ve even been called a monk by friends and close employees.

Before Tess sat on my lap five years ago, I’d not had sex in well over six months.

But this forbidden woman brings up a much different set of emotions within me. She breaks every ounce of control I have without even trying.

She says my name, and lust clouds my vision.

I know I’m not going to last three months with her. Not if she keeps looking at me like she wants to devour me while telling me to fuck off.

Hell, I’ll be lucky to last three weeks.

Still, challenge accepted.

I shake the hand still in mine and shoot her a grin, which probably looks predatory, but I don’t care at this point.

Tess just showed me how she likes to play. And fuck if I don’t love it.

“Welcome to the Fount.” Baby girl.