Page 35 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Madison

Present Day

I ’m a liar with a to-go plate.

Every excuse I gave myself in the mirror stared back at me and said, Try again . The forty-eight minutes it took to hype myself up to come here was a fraction of the time I spent tossing outfits around my closet.

I’m dropping off food, not going to a job interview.

I all but skipped across the street like an extra in The Wiz . There’s no reason I should be in Preston’s office building, but I felt a neighborly urge to supply my friend with a lunch he never requested.

A liar with a to-go plate.

Denial is a strange place. I’m not a lifelong member, but I have a flash pass for all the main attractions. Dropping off food plates to “friends” isn’t a habit of mine, but here we are.

Though “friend” is a title never meant for Preston. He’s always been more, floating in the space between the man who checks off all my ideals and someone I could never have. The lines have blurred this time, and that has me acting out of character.

Like showing up to his job unannounced.

You’ve come this far.

I draw in a deep breath and step into the lobby. It’s quiet for a Monday afternoon, which makes the marble pathway to the private corridor easier to navigate in plaid heels.

My heart drums in my chest, nervous that the security guard standing next to the stainless-steel turnstile will call me out for acting sprung.

His lips thin, setting his wide chin into a tight line.

I don’t make eye contact as I press the key card Dayo gave me into the scanner and enter through the parting doors.

Suspicion is not a look I want to wear. The only bomb I’m carrying is the nerves that are about to explode out of my ass. It would make for a nasty cleanup in this black jumpsuit, but at least security wouldn’t notice.

After a stare-off with the metal door, I tap my card to the pad, careful not to look over my shoulder at Bruce Banner in a navy suit. The weight of the closing barrier pushes me into the cement hall. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

I know Dayo is somewhere in the command center laughing his head off. I haven’t lived down the side-eye I got when I insisted Preston and I are friends.

Are you planning to stand here all day or bring him lunch?

I stare at the key card in my palm and the short distance between me and the elevator. Preston gave me access so I could come and go. It’s not a big deal, except it is.

Everything will become real once I own up to what I won’t admit: There’s a force pulling me back to him. I dodge and fight, but its magnetism is impossible to overcome.

Yesterday gave me clarity. It was the only day Preston and I didn’t communicate since his tender offer to earn back my heart. I missed speaking with him, missed our texts. He had to fly to Manchester unexpectedly yesterday morning and said he wouldn’t be home until earlier today.

Waking up to “Good morning, Puff” had me kicking my slippers without an ounce of shame.

When I’m caught up in the moment, I don’t play out all the ways going there with him again will lead us back to the same fate.

We have more experience under our belts now that we’re older.

We also live separate lives that don’t revolve around each other, and on different continents.

I’d be a fool to assume a long-distance anything would work, especially with a billionaire whose schedule is booked a year in advance. But I’m here—with turkey neck, smothered okra, greens, and cornbread—willing myself not to overthink it and go with the flow.

I steady my to-go container and walk out of the elevator with my head and top knot high.

On instinct, my hand lifts to knock on his door, but then I remember the code for the keypad. A tiny light flashes green, and I step into his musk-filled suite wearing a smile that falls to the floor when my jaw does.

A woman with a Nia Long pixie cut and the features to match is squatting on his desk in red heels.

Her chocolate brown eyes, which hold the thrill of arousal, hypnotize me in place.

I don’t realize she’s completely naked underneath the fur coat she’s wearing until she rolls her nipples between her fingers.

She gasps and bounces harder on the surface-mounted dildo on wood coated in her cream.

“ Preston .” Her tongue drags over her teeth, and the muscles in her flat stomach contract as she grinds her hips over the black silicone.

The dick alone is a sight to see. Judging by her short, toned legs, she’s petite, but she’s riding it like rent is due.

“Join me. I like to share,” she pants, lifting one of her large breasts to her tongue.

Another moan snatches me out of my thoughts, hitting me with a swift uppercut. There is a woman in Preston’s office riding a dildo on his fucking desk. The shock wanes, trading places with anger and humiliation. I let my guard down for him to hurt me again.

“Pass,” I say in a clipped tone. It’s hard to ignore her bouncing on a fake dick like a pogo stick at two in the afternoon, but I manage. I toss the food container onto the coffee table.

The main door of the office opens. Preston steps through with his brows raised to the ceiling. His mouth opens to speak to the woman summoning him with a red nail and a smirk. Then he sees me.

Turns out I’m not the liar; I am the idiot.

Hurt, confusion, and what looks like curiosity enforce my scowl. A boulder closes my throat, trapping the questions I don’t want to ask.

Why is there a woman pleasuring herself on his desk?

Are there others?

Am I not enough?

“Madison.” Preston’s voice strains. He mirrors the step I take.

“Thought you might be hungry,” I say to the container I left on the coffee table. “But I see you have company.” My eyes dart to his desk ornament and return to the floor. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Puff, wait.” He trips over his feet to reach me. “Please.” I tense at the hand around my arm, clutching me for dear life.

“Let me guess. It’s not what I think. Who the hell are you?”

“The man who’s trying to win you back, who’d never hurt you intentionally. I didn’t ask her to come, and I don’t know why she’s here.”

The huff I toss calls bullshit. “You expect me to believe that?” I yank my arm away and point to the woman on his desk who’s too lost in an orgasm to be bothered with us. “She’s still here.”

“Gisele,” Preston says without taking his eyes off me. “Did I invite you here?”

“No.” The word rushes through a ragged breath. “It’s been months. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Get dressed and clean yourself up. You are not to step foot in my office again.”

“Preston,” she whines.

“Now.” The word slides across his teeth like sandpaper. The warning is clear: Don’t fuck around.

Gisele’s sigh is her only rebuttal. Her heels scamper to the bathroom in the corner. The door closes, and Preston draws a breath, ready for damage control.

Who wouldn’t feel outraged at walking into their lover’s office only to find another woman? Preston’s not my lover, but that won’t stop me from telling him to go fuck himself with the dildo mounted on his desk.

His gaze roams the minefield of emotions on my face, searching for signs of recovery. Each breath presses my turtleneck into the jumpsuit that’s welded to my curves. A blush sweeps across my cheeks like war paint. My lips purse, and I release a soft breath that surprises me.

Am I…turned on?

A single look is all it took for my mind to shift from never speaking to him again to letting my vagina take the mic on our behalf. I have more self-control than this, but the heifer ran out of the office with gasoline-soaked panties.

Blinks come in rapid succession as I fight to make sense of the battle to stay pissed at him and the desire that’s flooding my veins.

It’s the same lightheadedness I had at Ravenous when I witnessed the scenes at play.

That was my first time doing anything sexual with an audience, never mind with a stranger.

He knew every pulse point. I wanted Preston then as much as I do now.

My skin prickles when he caresses my cheek. I shudder when he leans down to kiss the corner of my mouth. “I would never hurt you, and I apologize if you thought otherwise. Tell me what to do to make it better. I want to earn your trust.”

The bathroom door opens, breaking our stare. I peel my eyes away to track Gisele’s movement over his shoulder.

“Puff.” The calm authority in his voice draws my focus back to him. “There is no one but you. Do you believe me?”

My throat wrestles a swallow, and my brows collapse. I nod.

“I need your words, baby,” Preston says. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes” comes through a strained inhale. What the hell? From this close, getting high off his cologne is inevitable.

Hunger floods his eyes. Preston lifts me into his arms, and I delight in the soft arch of my back at his touch. I wrap my heels around his slacks as he guides us past a wide-eyed Gisele to his desk.

“Preston, what are you—” I yelp when his screens and laptop fall to the ground. My exhale trembles when my ass hits his desk. I try to look at Gisele, but he holds my chin to keep my eyes on him.

“She doesn’t matter,” he says, loud enough for her to hear. “Gisele never pops up unannounced. I don’t know what inspired her visit, but I’ll get to the bottom of it. After I take care of you.”

My legs part on their own to make room for his thighs and the erection tenting his zipper. “I haven’t fucked or even thought about another woman since you came back into my life. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for the chance to love you again?” He kisses the other corner of my mouth.

“No.”

“Fifteen long fucking years.”

My eyes spring open, flaring bright with the same longing. The invisible web between us tugs until it snaps. Preston’s mouth swoops down to capture the moan dripping from my lips, which he licks with his tongue.

His fingers sear my flesh as he showers kisses down my mouth and to my jaw. I lift my chin to offer the smooth column of my neck, which he sucks. The pressure of my knees gripping his waist unlocks a growl. He grabs my ass and kneads the heat between my thighs.

My “Preston” is smothered by the slip of his tongue in my mouth. I gasp when he strips off his jacket and lowers his body over mine.

“Do you want her to go or watch?” He nips my chin and rocks into my pussy as it scents his office. “I can smell you, Puff.” His tongue grazes my ear. “Choose.”

The question hangs in the air as he kisses my brows. I lick my lips, unable to disguise my body’s reaction. After a long breath, my mouth quivers when I say, “Watch.”

That’s the last word he hears before raw possession takes over.