by Gina Kincade
It was probably the long flight. Thirteen hours from New York to Hong Kong talking strategy and brushing elbows with Dom was bound to get my libido drunk. Or maybe it’s the two years of flirty stares across the board room as I imagined him tearing off my panties in reward for getting our associates to sign on the dotted line. Or maybe it’s the last few weeks of late nights at the office, stress knotting our shoulders as the two of us tried to anticipate every possible thing that could go wrong with this deal. Couple that with the fact that I haven’t been fucked in months, and ... yeah, no wonder my body’s on high alert.
The light in the bedroom is off. I haven’t touched the switch. Instead my hand clutches the doorknob as my thumb runs over the lock. Should I press the tiny button in and lock it?
I kick off my shoes and walk to the bed instead. I strip off my dress in the darkness and climb onto the layers of pillows and blankets. The softness is divine as I lie back and allow the plush comforter to mold to my skin. I take several deep breaths, but my whole body is on fire. It can’t forget the fact that Dom is only a few steps away out on the terrace, and I’m in here wearing nothing but my bra and panties.
I think about the coolness of water from the pool and how it would feel against my hot skin right now. How delicious and shocking it would be if I dove in. I think about the normal barriers that stand between Dom and me. Our job. Our titles. Our politeness emphasized by the hallways that have always separated our hotel rooms. And, how this shouldn’t be different. But the truth is he’s only steps away and ... I’ve left my door unlocked.
It’s reckless, but I run my fingers over my chest. My nipples are hard and responsive through the lace fabric and I have to bite my lip to muffle my ragged breath. I shouldn’t do this. We have a job to do tomorrow and I need to keep my head clear. Yet, my hands slide down my bare stomach to the elastic of my panties where my fingers tease the hem. My fingers swirl over my hip bones, contemplating if this is a good idea or not, my clit throbbing in anticipation.
I’ve been turned on like this by Dom before. I’ve wanted him so badly, and then gone back to my private room all alone to finish the job. It would be so easy to do it again. To release this tension so I can get a decent night of sleep.
My knees inch open and I draw my fingers over the heated lace between my thighs teasing the edge and threatening to sweep the fabric to the side.
Only, the thought of Dom in the other room makes my pulse increase. This is different somehow. He’s not locked away on the other side of the hotel. He could be in the hall, or just outside my door. Heck, he could knock on my door. I bite my lip as my fingers breeze over the lace, where I’m wet and swollen. Hell, forget knocking. What if he opens the door and comes right in? He doesn’t know what room I picked. He could easily swing the door open and accidently find me here, legs open and pussy drenched. My hips rise off the blankets at the possibility. What if he didn’t stop at the door? What if the surprise of finding me practically naked is all the permission he needs? What if he storms past the door, tears off my panties, and covers my pussy with his—I gasp at the thought of his mouth—hot gorgeous lips intimately sucking. His tongue – I pull the lace fabric aside and thrust two fingers inside myself.
“Oh God!” I breathe, imagining the touch is his. Imagining him shirtless and hooking my knees over his shoulders as he savors my scent, before dragging his lips across my clit. I grip the sheets with my free hand, knowing in reality he’s only steps away, closer than he’s ever been. And the truth of that makes my pussy clench. I cover my face with a pillow to muffle my gasps, but I’m nowhere near the release I want. This would be a thousand times better under his hands.
Sweat makes the sheets stick to my back and I imagine Dom dropping his pants and sliding his beautiful cock inside me. But it’s not good enough. It’s not the same as being actually fucked. It makes me realize how long it’s been since I’ve actually had a man, and I’m desperate and annoyed at how far off this orgasm really is, at how damn familiar I am with my own fingers. They don’t have Dom’s roughness, or the surprise of not knowing how he wants to touch me.
I drop my hands to the side of the bed after several unsuccessful attempts to work myself into a frenzy. I grind my eyes closed in frustration. The musk of sex hangs on my skin without properly bringing me to release. Mocking me with what I want, but can’t have.
Damn.
This is going to be a long, long weekend.
Chapter Two
Ilsa
I wake up in my underwear, realizing I must’ve passed out after last night’s frustrations. Crisp morning light filters into the uber-modern room, which I didn’t even bother to look at last night. To my left is a floor-to-ceiling window instead of a wall, similar to the ones out on the terrace. The view overlooks an expanse of skyscrapers, all of them tiny and endless. The city is harsher in the daylight, having lost its neon galaxy of twinkling lights from the night before. That’s life, isn’t it? Everything is more sobering in the daylight.
I walk to the window and my reflection catches the glass. My brunette hair and hour-glass figure ghost over the cityscape, and caught somewhere between the buildings and the refraction of light is a half-defined version of myself that’s not quite solid, a part of me that feels only half-there.
Needing a shower to clear my head, I pull off my undergarments, only to turn and realize I don’t have a bathroom. Seriously? I’m in the presidential suite and I randomly picked the room without a private bath? I search the closet and find a robe, tying it shut around my waist before walking into the hallway. Good thing I didn’t have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t put it past myself have stumbled half-awake through these halls in hardly my knickers. Damn. Maybe I’m getting too comfortable with Dom.
I turn the corner and slam right into him.
“Oh jeez! Dammit!” I swear as we twist in the momentary chaos. His hands grab my waist as we try to right ourselves, both of us cursing. Not to mention, my body perking up at the fact that under this robe I’m wearing nothing! “I was trying to find—” I mumble, looking up only to see—
The man holding my waist isn’t Dom!
“Uh ...?” A streak of panic wicks through me at the sight of the stranger. “Who the hell are you?”
His brown eyes flash wide, surprised at my intensity. “Sorry! Hi—” he flusters, the embarrassment of crashing into a stranger disorienting us both. “I, uh—I’m Dom’s friend. I didn’t see you coming around the corner. Sorry about that. It’s Ilsa, right? You’re Dom’s coworker.” He moves back half a step and it gives me a second to see him. He’s obviously in his pajamas, wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt and shorts. It shows off his broad shoulders and toned calves. He’s in his thirties with five-o-clock shadow and dark hair that’s unfairly sexy with his tousled I-just-woke-up look.
“Um, uh ...” I stutter. “I—I didn’t know—Dom had ...”
His face breaks into the most beautiful of smiles and his eyes warm with a friendliness that disarms me in the most inappropriate way.
“Dom didn’t tell you I was coming, huh?” He squeezes my side as if we’re close friends. “That totally makes sense. My fault,” he explains. “I didn’t know if my trip was gonna land me in Hong Kong this weekend or not. Dom told me to come by if things lined up. I didn’t know till last minute. Got in late last night. You were asleep already.”
I want to pull my robe tighter around my waist, uncomfortable with his hands still there, but his warm gaze has me paralyzed. What if this stranger walked in on me last night? My door was unlocked. He could have found me sleeping in my underwear!
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “Clearly I need a massive cup of coffee to help me understand. Did you say you’re Dom’s friend? Who just happens to be in Hong Kong?”
“Yeah, sorry. You’re obviously”—his eyes flick down my robe—“not up yet.” A slight smile plays on his tanned face and I try to ignore it, even though my body seems to be delighted.
Damn, I’m way too strung up over Dom that my body is reacting to any attention it can get. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll reintroduce myself once you’re up.”
I eye him, still thrown off guard. “Yeah, uh ...” I start, but the more awkward part is his hands are still at my sides, though there’s something innocent and charming about it, as if he simply forgot they’re there. He breathes in slowly and suddenly I can smell myself. I need a shower. The dank perfume of my skin wafts out from under my cotton robe, evidence from the sweat that covered my body last night with its unmistakable musk of sex. His eyes catch mine and my neck hairs stand on end. Can he smell me? Does he think Dom and me ... or does he realize I did that all on my own?
“Do, um ... do you have a name, Dom’s-Friend?” I say to cut the prickle of tension that ticks up my spine.
“Of course,” he shakes his head, and that dashing smile spreads over his face again, only it lights up his features in an embarrassed way, as if he needs to hide something. As if I caught him thinking something he shouldn’t. “Sorry. I feel like I’m going to be apologizing to you all weekend.”
“You’re here all weekend?”
“Uh, yeah.” He nods, catching my tone. “Dom said you’d be working most of the weekend. I won’t be in the way.”
I look toward the kitchen, wondering where Dom is. “No, of course,” I say. “We are working this weekend. Why else would we be here.” A knot of something I don’t understand balls in my stomach. Dom is allowed to have friends. He’s allowed to invite them to visit. And this suite is huge, after all. There’s plenty of room. But, this weekend? This deal? Hong Kong was supposed to be our time away from the world. Away from everyone we know. “It’s just a big weekend,” I say, controlling my tone.
“You won’t know I’m here,” he guarantees, his eyes flicking to my neck and making me certain it will be the complete opposite. I’m already too aware of how my body likes his hands on my waist and the unapologetic way his eyes run down my neck. He’s brash and present and completely different than Dom. He’s not afraid to look at me like I’m a woman—not his co-worker or his friend—but something he would like the pleasure of devouring.
“And, it’s Isaac, by the way.”
I look back at him. “What? Sorry?”
An amused kindness crinkles his eyes and he points to himself. “Me. Dom’s-Friend. Isaac.” He says it in a gruff cave-man voice, making a joke, and I’m certain my cheeks flush a deeper shade of red.
“Right, of course.” I look to the kitchen again. “No caffeine,” I say, making excuses. “I swear I’m not normally this rude. It’s nice to meet you.” I nod and reach down to remove his hands, knowing they’re clouding my judgment, but when our fingers connect a jolt of something rude and excited shoots through me.
Our eyes catch and his hands twitch, his gaze darkening for a second, only long enough for me to catch it, before he pulls his hands back.
“Oh man!” He tosses his hands in the air like a criminal. “I’m such an asshole!” A blush colors his cheekbones just above his stubble, as if he really did forget his hands were on me. “Man, I’ve known you for two seconds and I’m the creepiest guy ever!” His eyes are wide and serious. “I officially give you permission to slap me. Damn, I am so sorry!”
I can’t help but smile.
“It’s not funny,” he says, running both his hands through his dark hair, clasping them behind his head. Only that shows off just how muscular his arms are. “That’s some class-A stalker-shit. I’m just—fuck! I’m going to go into the kitchen.” He drops his hands. “Please, forget all this ever happened, and ... if you sue me later, I completely get it.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, really it isn’t,” he shakes his head furiously. “Dom is gonna nut-punch me.”
I laugh at that. “No he isn’t. Dom’s the sweetest guy in the world. He wouldn’t punch anyone.”
“That’s what you think.” Isaac shakes his head at me, dead serious, making me wonder if Dom might have done something if he walked down the hall and found Isaac’s hands on my waist. “You’re his protégé!” Isaac continues. “If there’s one person I shouldn’t be making passes at, it’s you.”
A prickle runs up my neck. “I’m sorry, was that a pass?”
“Even unintentional passes! Not that you aren’t—” He shuts his mouth quickly, but his eyes say everything for him, once again flicking down my body and riddling my skin with goosebumps. “It was lovely to meet you, Ilsa,” he says. “Let’s make a pack to avoid bumping into each other in the morning half-naked.”
I shake my head to lighten the tension. “It’s fine. And don’t be so hard on yourself. Nobody’s half-naked.”
His eyes bore into me and I realize he’s deliberately making a show of looking at my face.
I look down quickly, only to see my robe has fallen open. It’s still cinched at the waist, but in our stumble the top must’ve pulled apart to expose a generous view of skin. He can see all the way to my navel, with the fabric barely catching my nipples to keep my breasts from being entirely bared to him—Thank God!—though he’s had plenty of time to ogle the half-exposed goods.
“Jesus!” I grab the edges of the robe and thrust them together. “I had no idea!”
“I wasn’t looking, I swear,” Isaac says, despite the fact that I know that’s untrue. He closes his eyes to prove his point, even though I’ve already covered up. “I’m going to find my way back to the kitchen now,” he says, reaching a hand out to find the wall. “I look forward to seeing less of you in the future, Ilsa.”
“Putz,” I quip, shaking my head at him, which he can’t see, but the mischievous grin that spreads across his face lets me know just how much he enjoyed his private viewing.
“It’ll be our little secret,” he says, before turning around and using the wall to walk himself back toward the kitchen.
A flutter stirs in my stomach as I watch him go, realizing it’s been ages since anyone’s flirted with me, much less ogled my tits. And what did I expect? I’ve been nothing but business, business, business. Daydreaming about Dom, and wishing something was there when maybe there’s isn’t. And I don’t like the idea that flits through my mind next.
Is it possible I’m so hung up on Dom because he’s been the only one around? Is it possible I’ve convinced myself he’s the only option?
Chapter Three
Ilsa
Dom and Isaac are both in the kitchen when I come in showered, clean, and one-hundred-percent clothed. Isaac’s gaze skims over me in my pencil skirt and low-cut blouse, which I wear deliberately to make the men in our business meetings think I’m docile and feminine. They never see the wolf in the sheep’s clothing. But this morning, I’m not sure if I put it on for that same reason, especially when Isaac looks away quickly and I know he’s deliberately keeping his eyes from roving over the goods he saw earlier.
I turn my focus to Dominick, who’s at the stovetop cooking eggs, and I’m surprised to see him with an apron over his dress shirt and slacks. His suit-coat hangs over a stool and even though his red hair isn’t combed yet, he still looks like he walked out of the pages of GQ. He’s brilliant and put together even as he cooks eggs.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says pleasantly and this whole sight triggers an unsettling feeling in my stomach. His comment is completely normal. So usual and expected—except I’ve never seen Dom cook eggs before, much less do anything so domestic. I always think of him at the office, making deals, or presenting at a conference. Even late at night after our meetings, when we’re eating crappy take out, he’s always had a polished professionalism about him. The idea of him cooking breakfast for me is ... different. It’s overly familiar and almost intimate.
I drop my laptop case on the granite kitchen island and turn to face Dom, suddenly irritated that Isaac is here. I want to sit at this island and stare out at Hong Kong as I savor the fact that Dom is making me breakfast! This is our last weekend, where we were sup
posed to do exactly this—alone!
“I met your friend in the hallway this morning,” I pronounce, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. “I didn’t realize we were going to have company.”
Dom turns quickly, spatula in hand. “Right! Ilsa! I uh, Isaac is—”
“An old friend,” I interrupt, pulling open the fridge and grabbing the orange juice carton. “Or something of that sort. Yes, he mentioned it. You’re in Hong Kong. He’s in Hong Kong. Old buddies from—” I look over my shoulder to Isaac, raising my eyebrows in question. “College? High school?”
“Harvard Law,” Isaac answers cautiously as I squint at him. With his tossed hair and beach-bum t-shirt, I’d expect Isaac to be surfing the waves rather than sitting in a courtroom pontificating.
“You’re a lawyer?”
Isaac shrugs behind his cup of coffee. “Not anymore.”
I wait for him to elaborate and when he doesn’t, I shake my head. “Okay, law school buddies, or ... whatever.”
“Woah!” Dom’s eyes are wide, clearly thrown off by my aggressiveness on this topic. “Is this, uh—this isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”
I close the fridge and turn to Isaac. He watches me like a hawk, hunched over his empty place setting with a completely amused look in his eyes, as if stirring things up was his god-given meaning in life.
“Of course not,” I say, turning back at Dom. “It’s just a big weekend. Negotiation. Acquisitions. Promotions on the line. But if you guys need to catch up and toss around business accolades or whatever ...” I uncap the orange juice and toss it back like it’s a hard drink. “Do what you’ve got to do. You’re the boss.”
A crease wrinkles Dom’s forehead and he looks at me hard, showing off just how unhappy he is that I played the boss card. I don’t usually throw it around and he hates it when I do. We’re equals, remember. And that’s exactly what I want to say to him. Equals, exactly! Don’t bring a wild card into our lives when I’m about to make the biggest deal of my career. Especially one that—