by Kendall Ryan
“Listen, um . . . would you be interested in going out to dinner?”
“Oh, sure. I’ll change into something nice.” Presley starts rooting through her suitcase. “Who’s coming? Other than Roger and his wife, of course. What was her name again?”
“Monica. But actually, uh, it’ll be just us tonight.” I spent most of the day with Roger, and there’s only so much of his company I can take.
She straightens up to blink at me.
I pull my hand down over my mouth. I knew this conversation would be awkward, and yet it’s somehow even worse than I predicted. “I . . . wanted to take you out to apologize for how I acted last night.”
She watches me without moving. “For which part?”
I eye her. She can’t genuinely not know, right? With time today to reflect on it all, I know I acted like a dick. The odds are high that she’s testing me. But I guess it’s only fair for her to want a more detailed apology.
“How I treated you. I touched you in public without asking first. I didn’t kiss you until you put your foot down. I played rough. I didn’t hold you afterward, even though I could tell you wanted physical contact.” I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “Sometimes I forget that I’m the only man you’ve ever slept with.”
She cocks her head, a faint line appearing between her brows. “What does that mean?”
“You know . . . you’re inexperienced. With a woman who’s been around the block, it’s more okay to play a little fast and loose, because she knows what she likes and doesn’t like, and she won’t be afraid to call a time-out.”
“But I did tell you to stop,” she fires back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Doesn’t that prove I’m capable of holding my own?”
I would laugh at her trademark resolve if I weren’t rapidly approaching exasperation. “I’m trying to apologize for not treating you better.”
“I know. And I appreciate that. I just need to know you see me as an equal. I don’t want you handling me with kid gloves. I agreed to this”—she waves a hand as she searches for a word—“arrangement of my own free will.”
“Even a casual partner still deserves to be treated right.”
She nods slowly, like she’s confused over my choice in words.
I tip my head toward the celling and draw a deep breath before meeting her eyes again. “So, would you like to go to dinner with me?”
She stares back at me for a moment before softening. “Yes. That sounds really nice.” Her expression turns the tiniest bit mischievous. “But it’s still not a date, right?”
I keep a poker face. “Right.”
“Just wanted to make sure. I’ll get dressed,” she says, then heads into the bathroom to get ready.
I should feel better having gotten that apology out of the way, but somehow I don’t. I only feel more confused.
• • •
Overlooking the Thames, we share platters of native Cornish oysters on the half shell and roasted vegetables and a variety of desserts.
Although we’re talking shop, analyzing the various offers I’ve received over the past two days, it doesn’t feel at all like work. It’s easy and fun, and highlights all the aspects of this job that get my blood pumping.
Presley is so sharp, and we tune so easily into each other’s wavelengths that our collaborating feels effortless. It’s nice. Relaxing, even. With a business partner like her, synergy isn’t just a marketing buzzword, but something real and invigorating.
I’ll start bringing her to meetings soon, I decide. I was a fool to ever think of restricting her to my bed—she’s too valuable an asset to be kept away from the negotiation table.
The cocktails and conversation loosen my tongue until I’m rambling about my most unlikely dreams. “Someday we’ll be worldwide.” I smile, taking the last sip of my wine. “An Aspen property in every country—or at least one on every continent, I’ll settle for that.”
Presley smiles at me over her glass of prosecco. “Even Antarctica?”
I realize I misspoke, but I go with the flow and joke, “Sure, why the hell not? An ice palace with attached ski resort.”
“And penguin-watching tours,” she says with a giggle.
It feels good to see her laugh, to laugh together with her. When was the last time I felt so good? Probably right before I found that fucking Genesis stuff in her bag. The worst of that is behind us now . . . but still, I can’t deny it was a useful wake-up call, pulling us apart before we got too entangled. Too invested in a connection that could never last.
I sigh, the reality of my life bringing me back down to earth. “On the other hand, I really need to start trimming back my hours. I shouldn’t miss all of Emilia and Lacey’s childhood.” That was meant to be another joke, but it came out downright dismal.
“You can do both, right? If you find good people to delegate to,” Presley says.
I rub my chin. “Maybe. Easier said than done, but maybe.”
“Your kids are so cute . . . I want to spend more time with them, and I’m not even their parent.” She gets a weird look on her face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to overstep my bounds or tell you what you should do or anything.”
“I didn’t take it that way. What about you? How’s your family?” She rarely mentions her father—one of the many things we have in common—but she lights up beautifully when the topic lands on her brother.
“Michael is doing really well at school. He loves his classes, and . . .” She giggles. “He keeps talking about this guy. Every time we talk, it’s Elijah said this, Elijah did that, or oh my gosh, Elijah’s so cool.”
I chuckle. “Are they dating?”
“If Michael ever works up the courage to ask him out, we just might see.” Toying with her last bite of dessert, she asks way too casually, “Speaking of relationships . . . do you think you’ll ever be looking for more?”
She’s challenging me. Like she always does. “I don’t see how I could fit any more obligations into my already limited schedule.”
As soon as the words are out, I wonder why I avoided the question instead of just saying, No, I’m not looking for some big romantic love affair. For some reason, I’m reluctant to shut her down cold. Even though I really should, because there’s no way anything beyond sex can happen between us.
It just wouldn’t be sustainable. She’s so young and has so much ahead of her. I’m jaded and overworked, and am barely getting by with the two ladies who need more of my time than I have to give at the moment. It would be foolish of me to pretend we could make it work.
“We could always ask the cards for solutions.” She taps her purse.
“We don’t need to go to that extreme. I can see the future just fine. Us, twenty minutes from now, getting naked back in our hotel room . . .”
Presley meets my eyes and nods, but there’s something conflicted in her expression.
• • •
As soon as our door clicks shut behind us, I sweep her up, kissing her fiercely. My fingers find the zipper at the nape of her neck. I pull it down and let her elegant evening dress pool on the floor, revealing a satiny black bra with matching panties. I growl appreciatively and push my hips forward so she can feel what she does to me.
“You’re stunning,” I murmur.
Her breath hitches. “How do you want me?” she whispers against my mouth.
Well, if she’s in the mood to challenge me, I know a way to challenge her right back—something that will also ensure we avoid a repeat of last night.
“Tell me what you want.”
She blinks up at me. “I thought you liked being in control, boss man.”
“I’m changing the rules. You’re in charge tonight. Think you can handle that?”
Her brow furrows for a moment as she thinks. Then she starts opening my shirt, her delicate fingers working button by button. She stands on tiptoe to slide it back over my shoulders until I can shrug it off. Next comes my belt, which she sets neatly on a nearby chair before unzipping
my pants. She’s so methodical, I’m amused watching her.
When I’m bare, she nudges me. “Lie back on the bed, Mr. Aspen.”
I do as she says, enjoying the view as she strips off her bra and panties while never breaking eye contact. No words are spoken as she straddles me, rolling her hips to spread her slickness over my erection—and damn, she’s already wet and ready. Well, that makes two of us. My cock aches for her to get on with it and ride me already.
But a niggling thought at the back of my mind tells me that it won’t be that cut and dried.
Chapter Twelve
Presley
“Get over here and ride me,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up until he finds my breast and gives my nipple a playful pinch. Pleasure zings through me, both at his words and the feel of his hands toying with my breasts.
Tucking my legs on either side of his torso, I raise up on my knees and position myself over him. Dominic lets out a soft groan, shuddering as I lower myself.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Don’t move for a sec,” he says as his hands tighten on my hips.
My eyes sink closed at the exquisitely full feeling of him inside me.
When I open my eyes, Dominic’s hooded gaze latches onto mine, and his expression is filled with things I’ve never seen before—wonder and vulnerability, and of course enough pleasure to end this ride in about three minutes flat if we’re not careful.
His hands find my ass and he lifts me, easing out and then sliding me back down again. We both groan. With his help, I find my rhythm, riding him as we gaze at each other. I plant my hands firmly against his chest, and Dominic rocks beneath me.
His hand slides to my throat so that his thumb can find its destination—my mouth. I suck it in, relishing the taste of his salt and my own sweat. Then he drops his damp thumb between my legs, and I whimper at the immense sensations shooting through me.
With each caress, I lose track of the rhythm of my hips, growing more and more erratic with my thrusts. Suddenly, unexpectedly, my orgasm washes over me in a powerful wave. I curl into his chest, rocking with pleasure. With one hand tangled in my hair and the other gripping my ass, Dominic thrusts hard and fast into me, his own orgasm right there.
When it’s all over, he cradles my still trembling body against his chest. His fingers play with my hair as his breathing slows.
I don’t want to jinx it . . . but I think we’re cuddling. And I’m pretty damn sure he’s allowing it.
I bury my nose in his neck, breathing him in and stretching my long legs against his until we’re tangled together. And then, to make matters worse, I feel the soft press of his lips on the top of my head: a kiss with no expectations. Just tenderness.
Damn. I squeeze my eyes closed. I’m falling so hard for you, you confusing-as-hell man.
I don’t want to think about the repercussions of that just yet. Instead, I welcome a deep, uninterrupted sleep wrapped in his strong arms.
• • •
The rest of our time in London is everything I wanted it to be. I sit in private meetings with him, now invited as a special guest. I consult with him after, weighing options and crunching numbers over mug after mug of tea.
I’ve learned more in four days of business boot camp than I did during four years of college, reading every textbook on the subject. On top of that, I’ve been exposed to how business works in a foreign country, specifically one known for its hotel industry. Being at Dominic’s side, I have access to every brilliant mind in the business.
We also have sex. Lots and lots of sex. An insane amount of sex. In our bed, in the shower, once in the massive tub, against the vanity . . . it really doesn’t take much to get him riled up.
Or me, for that matter. His sexual appetite turns me on, if I’m being honest. As soon as I see his eyes go dark and his lips part, I know exactly what his thoughts are. And he knows mine.
Knowing Dominic in this way has been so incredibly fulfilling. Sure, it’s just sex. That’s what Bianca would say. Yet I can’t help but feel the protective layer of my heart dissolve, allowing admiration to unfurl and blossom into honest affection. In those quiet moments between the soft kisses and dozing in his arms, I feel like I have a damn good chance at knowing all of him.
As long as he’ll let me.
• • •
Okay. I put the cart ahead of the horse again.
The hum of the plane’s engine would normally calm me, but I’m rigid and anxious. As soon as we boarded, I sensed yet another mood swing in Dominic. His profile is hard and cold as he types away at his laptop, utterly ignoring my presence. He’s back to business as usual, treating me as he would any colleague at work.
“I’ve got some emails to send,” he said as soon as he sat down. Before I could ask him what I could help with, he popped in his earbuds. Nice.
I order some wine from the flight attendant. His moodiness is getting really, really aggravating. Just this morning, we were fucking each other’s brains out in bed, literally one flesh. Now I’ve been given the millennial equivalent of talk to the hand.
I take a sip of my rosé, not at all caring that it’s early afternoon and hardly drinking hours. If I’m going to be yanked around like this, I’m going to need a little liquid courage.
What if I really like him? What does that mean for me? It’s not like I could suddenly squeeze into his life. He has zero time for another human being. And even if he did, he would be extremely particular about his choice in a partner. He has two children to raise, after all.
The mere thought of stepping into the role of mother makes me feel ill. I’m so young. I’m not ready to raise children. I barely consider myself an adult yet, and it’s been hard enough for me to help Michael out.
I have no idea what I’m doing, and Dominic certainly isn’t giving me any clues.
Well, that decides it. What happened in London will just have to stay in London. If he’s going to be cold and detached, then so will I. It’s better for my work anyway. I can finally utilize the tools I’ve acquired and actually make something of myself.
I can focus on me.
Chapter Thirteen
Presley
“You look stressed,” Michael says in lieu of a hello, kissing my cheek.
“Thanks?” I shake my head. “That for me?”
He nods at the coffee on the table and slides it closer to me while I take a seat across from him. “I hope you’re not stressing about the money again, sis, because—”
I shake my head. “No, nothing like that.” To be honest, I’m always worried about money, but for once, something else is occupying more of my brain space than the dwindling balance in my checking account. “Actually, I’m having some guy troubles.”
“Yeah?” Michael says, watching me curiously. I have no idea why, but I realize we’ve never discussed things like this before. “You know that happens to be my specialty, right?”
“Guys?” I ask, grinning at him.
He nods, satisfied with himself. “If it’s got a dick, I can help. Lay it on me.”
“Michael . . .” I chuckle, taking a sip of my coffee.
I haven’t seen him in a few weeks, but after arriving home from London late last night, his was the first number I called. I slide over the small magnet I got him from the hotel gift shop, and he lifts it in his palm, eyeing it curiously.
“What’s this?”
“A little souvenir. It made me think of you.” I shrug.
Michael’s lips twitch. “I love it, but you’re not going to get out of talking about this. Seriously. Tell me. What seems to be the problem?”
I take a deep breath and release it slowly, debating on where to start. Surely I can’t admit to my little brother the entire messy extent of what’s gone down between Dominic and me. Can I?
“It’s a little complicated,” I say, stalling for time and picking at the label on the paper cup.
“It always is.” He sighs.
“Guys suck sometimes.”
He nod
s. “That we do.” He slips the magnet into his bag and waits for me to continue.
“I just . . . I feel like everything has spiraled out of control with the guy I’ve been seeing. He’s older—only by a few years, but he has two kids.”
Michael’s eyes widen.
“I know. He’s a single dad. But that’s not the part that’s causing issues. His little girls are amazing, actually. But he . . .” I put my face in my hands. “I can’t believe I’m about to admit this to my little brother.”
“Out with it.”
I grin, somehow amused at seeing this grown-up side to him. “He wanted to keep things casual,” I say with an eyebrow wiggle, hoping Michael can read between the lines so I don’t have to admit the extent of my debauchery—and with my boss, no less.
“Ah. The good old fuck buddy who swears he doesn’t want something serious.”
“Yes!”
“Happens all the time,” he says sadly.
“So, what am I supposed to do? Call him on it? Demand he change?”
Michael frowns, shaking his head. “Nope. That would only backfire.”
I figured as much. And I don’t want to put more pressure on Dominic. His life is filled with it already. I want him to choose me because he wants me. Just like I want him.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” I ask.
Without missing a beat, Michael leans forward. “Take Jude my freshman year, for example.”
My eyes widen. “You slept with Jude? I didn’t even know he was gay.”
He shrugs, waving me off. “I don’t think Jude knows he’s gay. But yeah, even if he didn’t want to admit that to himself or even take one step out of that closet, he wanted me. And I gave him what he wanted. But once we slept together, that was it. He ghosted me and pretended it never happened.”
I make a face. “Jeez, Michael. I don’t know if I want to hear about your sex life in vivid detail.”
He purses his lips. “Don’t be such a baby. It’s not a big deal. And not everyone remains a virgin until they’re eighty-two, Miss Priss.”