The Waitress and Her Alpha

| XII - The Apartment Of Truth |

Author Note: This is where the re-write changes. The rest of the story will start to change, and new details will appear. Please be warned when reading. 

"I am not sleeping with you in that bed." My finger points at the soft looking bed I slept in unwillingly the night before. He stands next to me, but not for long as he groans walking up to the giant mattress. Curses slip under his breath, but I'm thankful he isn't pushing the subject. Maybe this contract will be good for both of us.

Ares grunts throwing a pillow and blanket onto the floor, "Fine, if you are going to deny your feelings then I will sleep on the floor."

"I have no feelings, and until that damn contract goes into effect, I don't have to pretend either." I hear a low growl come from deep in his chest, my eyes going wide. I hadn't meant to let that slip, but now I have. I doubt this could impact something we've already signed. Ares Gray, however, is a powerful businessman and learning that I had unagreeable intentions might be enough for him to wreck me before we even start, "Are you okay?" I blurt in reference to the growl breaking from his throat.

He clears his throat pulling back the covers for me, "Your concern is heart-warming darling, just trying to understand what you aren't feeling. Do you not have the pull? The electric touch? The anything?" He feels it too. My mind isn't making up crazy moments to make this seem saner or put myself into a world that isn't real. Those sparks that cover my skin when he touches me are understood on both ends.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." If I play stupid, he might feel stupid himself. Those sparks are dangerous, like my own personal addiction that could get me to do his bidding if I'm not careful.

He pauses what he's doing, walking over to stand right in front of me. I take a step back, my body pressing against the door I'm standing in front of, "Pardon my tongue mate, but I call bullshit."

My breath starts to slack, less and less being taken in as my heart hammers against my chest. His beautiful honey eyes come close to mine, staring deep into my confused gaze. One hand is placed flat against the wall, the other wrapping around my hip. His mouth drops to match with mine, my lips desperate for his. I feel the crack of electricity between us every fiber of my being wanting to lean into him and close the distance. His thumb starts to rotate in small circles on my waist, I take the time to suck in a deep breath and control the heat that pools at my core. Our breaths mix, chest to chest, eye to eye, time slowing as we take in each other. Just do it, Vee, you know you want to. His brindle hair falls forward, covering parts of his eyes, tangling with his eye lashes. I flex my hand to keep it at my side avoiding the need to fix it so I can see his irises better.

"Touch me, Veronica." His voice is barely above a whisper, his mouth moving to my ear. My body works against me, lifting my hand to lay it across his tattooed chest. My pointer starts to trace his traditional ink, his breath halting from the moment I begin my movement. I follow the black as far down as I can, the band of his pants stopping me from going further before I work my way up the next one. My other hand stays flat against the door, the cool of the wood reminding me to center myself. The mind finally catches up. I snatch my hand back settling it on my chest. I close my eye looking towards the ground, my forehand against his comforting chest. I can't do this. I can't let him rule me.

"Please. Step away from me." My voice is the spoke with the confidence of a mouse. The strength this man has against me has been proven time and time again, while I wish I could just run and leave him, the control he has taken and how I let myself sign my life to him is... is unreal. I know I did wrong; I know I shouldn't have done such a thing, and yet, here I am wishing that these complications didn't exist so I could lay him down.