The Super: A Bad Boy Romance (17 page)

“Get in the car,” Drew commands, honking the horn of his Mustang as he pulls up in front of my building.

It’s Friday afternoon, and he’s taking me upstate to his mom’s house.

It’s not like me to meet a guy’s mom so soon. Drew and I have only been dating for a week.

Shit. When did we start dating? Was it the first time he knocked on the door of my apartment, pretending to be someone else, and he brashly told me I was his new girlfriend?

Was he even pretending? Or did he really become a guy who works in a low-key building out in the boroughs?

The ride to his mom’s house is beautiful. He has the windows down and the radio loud and the soft breeze of the late afternoon whips my hair around my shoulder, kissing my neck.

When we get to the house, he parks the car in the narrow gravel driveway.

I’m a little bit surprised by the condition of the house. It’s older than I imagined, and it’s a little rough around the edges.

A very chic older woman comes to the front door and waves to us.

“Hello! Finally, you made it! I’ve been waiting for you since last weekend.”

“Mom, you’ve got to stop being so obsessed with me.”

Drew bounds up the stairs to the door and embraces his mom in a big hug. I can see the family resemblance, but his mom looks a little bit more like Eric than she does like Drew. His mom and Eric are a little bit more petite, and Drew is more muscular and built.

“Molly?” His mom puts out both of her arms to me, as though she’s been waiting to meet me for more than just a few days.

“Hi! Mrs. Anderson, I am very happy to meet you.”

Drew’s mom embraces me and rocks me from side to side a few times, like she’s just been reunited with a long-lost child. She smells of mint and garlic, and I can smell a red sauce cooking in the house.

The three of us enter, Drew holding the door for me and his mom.

“Okay. I’m getting to work. Let the man do his thing. You two can talk about manicures, or whatever it is that girls talk about.”

“Drew promised to help me fix up the house a little bit,” Mrs. Anderson explains. “I’ve lived here by myself for so long, and I have a neighbor who helps me out with little odds and ends, but Drew is going to fix a few things before I put the house on the market.”

“You already know this, but I do have to agree that your son is very handy,” I say, sitting down on the couch with Mrs. Anderson, taking in the home.

It’s very different from the house I grew up in. Growing up, my family lived in a rent-controlled unit in a large elevator building.

Instead of a breeze coming through the front door and whipping through the house, bringing with it the scent of soil and freshly cut grass, we had the smells of the city.

Our home was filled with mementos and tchotchkes and souvenirs. Mrs. Anderson’s home is filled with all of the memories she kept with her through her life - the boys’ football trophies are displayed in a China cabinet in the living room, along with a collection of snowglobes she has lined up beside them.

Small things make up this space, and so much goodness is wrapped up in all of it.

Even though it’s the first time I’m visiting, I feel a little sad to know that she’s selling it.

“Handy?” Drew interrupts my daydream. “You called me handy in front of my mom? Wow, you really will say anything, won’t you?”

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Mrs. Anderson says, getting up and disappearing into another room. “Coffee or tea for you, Molly?”

“Whatever you’re having,” I call after her.

“So, what do you think of the place?” Drew says, plopping down in a chair next to the couch.

“What, did you build it, or something?”

“No. Hardly. This place is old. Older than me.”

“Well, I like it just the same.”

“It’s a shame she wants to sell.”

“Why did she never move to the city?”

Mrs. Anderson pads back into the room with a tray of tea cups and a pretty floral China teapot.

“Never liked the city,” she says. “Too many people. It gets too lonely.”

“I always wanted her to come, but she stayed up here, instead,” Drew says, pouring hot water into each of the teacups.

“But I have two good boys. They always came up to visit their ma,” Mrs. Anderson says, looking at her oldest son lovingly.

“This is the attic, in case you couldn’t tell. I just want to grab a few things.”

After a wonderful dinner of baked ziti, homemade by Mrs. Anderson, Drew shows me the house and the grounds.

The house sits on 50 acres of property, with its nearest neighboring home a quarter of a mile away. Drew is optimistic that the home will sell fast, and for a good price, after he makes some minor upgrades to it and corrects some of the issues a home that old would inevitably face.

“You ever sneak girls up here?” I ask, walking around the nearly empty room.

“Actually, no. You’d think I would have, because I’m such a player, right?”

Drew sits down on a couch against one of the attic walls and pats the seat next to him.

“I have to say that is the reputation you have, Drew Anderson.”

“What’s a reputation?” he asks, grabbing a football from a box next to the couch. “It’s just what other people perceive about you. But let me ask you something, Molly.” He tosses the ball back into the box and turns to face me. “What is it that
you
perceive? Forget my reputation.”

There are no lights on in the attic, but the bright moonlight shines through a window and illuminates Drew’s face in its glow. He looks as good as he always does, but seeing him in this place throws him into a new light.

He’s infuriatingly hot. I definitely perceive that about him.

“I perceive that you know what you want.”

He slips a finger under the strap of my tank top, and presses it against my shoulder, slowly slipping the strap down.

“That’s not a matter of reputation, baby. That’s something you’ve been able to observe about me, isn’t it?”

My breath catches in my throat.

“It’s both.”

“What else?”

His lips come down upon my shoulder and place a few light kisses upon it.

“I perceive that you aren’t afraid to go after what you want.”

He pulls me into his lap and I straddle him, his erection pressing against me. His lips engulf mine, his mouth hungrily searching mine, his tongue sweeping past my parted lips.

An impossible rush of heat and light invade me, my mind spinning, searching for answers.

I don’t even know what the questions are

Because all I know now is that being with Drew just feels
right
. He makes me feel giddy and excited and safe and protected all at once.

He scoops my ass up with both hands and scoots me forward on his lap.

“Is this alright?” he asks, his voice in a low growl.

“Yeah. More than alright.”

He undoes the buckle of my belt and slowly unzips and unbuttons my jeans, slipping a hand into my panties.

I’m already aching for him. Feeling him against me, even though we are both clothed, makes me feel dizzy with desire.

He grasps at his jeans and undoes them. He gently guides me away from him and slips my pants down to my ankles, and in response, I kick them off my legs and onto the floor. He slips my panties off and they land on the heap of clothing.

He pulls me back into his lap and slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket, draped over the couch.

He takes out a condom, along with a small wooden box.

“Hey, what is that?”

“Come on. You’ve seen a condom before. I know you have,” he says, with his signature Drew Anderson smile and sarcasm.

“Not that, Drew. This.” I take the box from him and run my hands over the smooth wood. “What is this?”

“That?” He scratches the side of his face and puts a palm on his cheek, looking down at the box. “That’s just a little something I made in high school. It’s nothing.”

“I guess you really are handy, then. The work on this is beautiful. I didn’t know you were a carpenter.”

“Just a hobbyist. I gave it to mom back when I made it. She kept my medals in it. But she gave it to me when she decided to move. That’s why the attic is empty. I’ve already hauled a lot of junk out of here.”

“This is not junk. This is lovely.” I look into his his eyes. The moon outside the window has moved, illuminating now his chest, his perfect washboard abs on display, his strong arms holding me in the moonlight. “Everything here is lovely. You helped build it.”

“I tried. I tried to be there for mom after the divorce. But I wanted to prove something to my father. To myself.”

“So you made it your singular mission to make something of yourself, huh?”

I open the box. It’s finished on the inside with dark red velvet and a simple gold clasp.

“Yeah. I guess I did. But it’s all bullshit. I guess I never realized that when you make something of yourself, everyone wants a piece of you.” He draws in his breath sharply and then exhales. “But not you. You never wanted a piece of me.”

Everything seems to come into sharp focus, even in the dull blur of the moonlight.

“You’re right, Drew. I didn’t want a piece of you. Just like I didn’t want a piece of the city. I wanted all of it.”

Drew takes the box from me and slips it back into his pocket. He tears the gold condom wrapper and slips the shield onto himself, gliding it all way down to the base in one quick motion.

He guides my body down onto his, slowly, until he’s all the way inside me, before he starts to rock his hips against mine.

My breasts hang free against his chest, our bodies moving together to the rhythm he sets. With each rock of his hips, my hair swings against his shoulders, his hands grasping at me and gliding along each inch of my body.

It all feels so right.

He was right about everything. He was right about what I wanted, and he helped push me toward realizing it.

I speed up to match his tempo, and our bodies move in unison, his thick cock sliding in and out of me, rocking me to the core.

“I want you to come, Molly. You look so fucking beautiful right now.”

His body crashes with mine, his cock expanding inside of me. The heat within me radiates out from my core, into my limbs, my fingertips, the fire between us invading my body.

I feel a crest of pleasure overcoming me as the dark room goes white behind my eyes, Drew’s breath fast upon my lips, our hearts racing toward the finish line.

I lean back and moan as pure pleasure overtakes my body.

“Come for me, Molly. I need you.”

His hands cup my breasts as he moves inside me, pulling every last ounce of pleasure from my flesh.

“Good job with those summaries.”

Natasha sits down in the empty chair next to me and slides over to my workspace. It isn’t yet 9:00, and the editorial assistant who sits next to me, Ashley, isn’t in yet.

“Thank you! Yeah, I tried. You were right, with the first line being a good way to summarize.”

“But you went above and beyond. You didn’t just grab the first line in the articles. You put a little bit of extra thought and effort into it.”

She glides back over to the neighboring workspace and gets up, sliding the chair back into position.

“Thank you!”

It’s true. I did put a little bit of extra effort into summarizing the articles. Even when I realized that many of the assistants around me seemed to be texting with their phones hidden under their desks, I carefully perused each article assigned to me.

And it isn’t just because I was looking for Drew’s name.

Okay, maybe that was part of it, but it isn’t the whole story.

“We have our eye on you, Molly. Excellent first week here. And I’m sure you’ll be moving up soon, if that’s what you want.”

Natasha smiles and goes back to her desk.

Is that still what I want? It would be a very simple trajectory, and I can see myself on it already. Editorial assistant, then editor for a few years, then executive editor.

I’m on a good path, a sure path, a path that is predictable and sets me up for success. And all I have to do is make sure nothing gets in my way.

Too bad that’s already happened, and it’s too bad that Drew has thrown my whole world into disarray.

The stupid leaky sink. If it wasn’t for old plumbing, we never would have met again, and my life would still be perfect. I’d still know what I want. I’d still be excited about my job.

But now, I’m not sure what I want.

I can’t stop thinking about him, even now more than ever. About his hands, his body, his lips caressing mine.

The rooftop terrace he brought me to was like a fantasy. The helicopter rider - in
his
helicopter! - was like a dream. It represented everything I’ve ever wanted, all in that moment. All of the wishing and hoping and planning and making sure everything was always just right - the right schools, the right internships - nothing could have made me believe I would be that close to it all, in such close proximity, breathing it all in and seeing it all up close.

I finally feel like I haven’t just made it
to
the city, but that I am actually part of something bigger than myself. And I realize it was what I’ve always wanted. That’s what Drew was asking when he asked what I really wanted.

And of course, I’m afraid now, more than ever, that it will be taken away from me.

Drew Anderson, self-made billionaire real estate mogul, master of all trades, and infamous playboy. And now I’m his.

But it’s not like I accomplished this status on my own. It’s not like when I put in the hard work to land a dream job. Drew is someone I never would have gone for before getting to know him.

And because he just fell into my lap by pure luck and chance, because I didn’t have to work hard to earn him, I’m afraid he’ll be taken away.

To make matters even more confounding, visiting his mom’s house with him has made me see him in a different way.

Drew worked for everything he has. He’s secure in the fact that it can’t just be taken away. He has his name written all over his buildings, his deals, his fingerprint on the sleek interiors he’s designed, his DNA encoded in the makeup of his company.

I don’t have that.

And when I woke up this morning, I was waking up from more than just one dream.

It’s still before 9:00, and the work day hasn’t technically started yet, so I decide to check out the front page of the paper online.

Call it research. I do work for a newspaper, after all.

I click on the gossip page. This part feels a little bit like cheating, but I want to see if there is anything about Drew online.

Even though he’s been laying low, I know there is certainly the possibility that his case will be reported on. Maybe I’ll find something about his brother.

Oh, shoot.

There she is, with the other guy.

It’s Clarissa with the very same guy I caught her with while I was shopping a few days ago.

And the headline isn’t kind, either.

Heiress Sneaks Out With New Man

The article is even worse. It describes Drew as a work-obsessed guy who neglected his fiancee. It quotes a source who claims to be close to Clarissa. The article doesn’t mention that Clarissa broke off the engagement with Drew to be with her ex, Robert Crandall. It just states that she has a new man, and shows a picture of her with this other guy, who I know to not be Robert.

One thing is clear - if anyone who knows Drew and the situation with Clarissa sees the story, they’ll know Clarissa is messing around with two different guys right now.

This is the story I had a few days ago, the one I kept to myself for fear of embarrassing Drew. This is the story I knew would look bad for everyone involved - not just Clarissa, but Drew, too.

I take out my phone and text him to ask if he’s looked at the news this morning.

He texts me back quickly.

Haven’t seen it yet, about to go into meeting. Sorry, talk later babe.

I want to tell him, but I don’t want to distract him.