“I tricked you into leaving the bar,” he allowed. “I did not trick you into coming to my room.”
“So since you don’t really need that file, I’ll just go sleep in my assigned room?” I asked, testing him.
“Of course,” he instantly replied, pushing the button for the fifth floor, where my room with Cathy was.
“Stalker,” I accused him. That finally earned a glare.
We were well past the fifth floor, of course, so the doors didn’t open until we reached the twentieth floor. The Presidential suite; I so called it. He stepped out, but only far enough to block the doors from closing again. He looked back as I stayed put, my arms crossed and leaning back against the wall of the elevator.
We stood staring at one another, wondering who would back down first. He had won our last battle, and I refused let him win again, even if that meant going back down to the fifth floor and sharing either a room with Cathy or a bed with Jane.
He must have sensed this, or maybe he was just getting sick of the elevator doors constantly trying to close on his shoulder. He sighed, looking like someone just asked him to explain in great detail why the sky was blue to a five-year-old; it was a mixture of irritation and resolve. “Elizabeth, thank you so much for submitting your report,”
“On time,” I offered helpfully. He scowled.
“On time,” he ground out. “I appreciate your constant sense of professionalism. Would you like to come back to my room and have a drink?”
I pretended to think about it. “Just a drink?”
His frown deepened and he reached out to take my arm, pulling me out of the elevator. “No. Not just a drink,” he clarified, his intense eyes locked onto mine long enough for me to get flushed from the heat of them before he kissed me soundly. When we broke apart, I couldn’t help but scrunch my face up.
“You taste like Scotch,” I told him unhappily.
“You taste sweet,” he replied, seemingly not to care about my poor opinion. “Like cherries.” He gazed at my face, his thumb running over my bottom lip in what was turning into a familiar way. He continued before I could tell him how he should learn to try a drink that didn’t taste like wood. “Would you like me to go into greater detail of what will occur when you come back to my room with me?”
“I suppose we should leave some things to the imagination,” I said airily. “We don’t need to be crass.”
“Of course not,” he put an arm around my shoulder, leading me down the hall to his room. “I won’t mention, then, how loud I’ll make you scream,” he whispered hotly in my ear. “How you’ll be begging me-”
“I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my life,” I twisted out of his arms indignantly. He gave me a roguish smile that made me equal parts anxious and excited for things to come.
“Good,” he said, opening his door and backing me into his room, “I’ll be more than happy to be your first.”
That night, I’m sorry to say, he did end up winning that title, even if I did my best not to make it easy for him
“Darcy.” My tone was equal parts frustration and pleading. I shifted, but he anticipated my move and shifted back. I groaned.
“Just say it,” he instructed. He was clearly finding amusement in my absolute refusal to do what he swore he would get me to do, but his face was flushed and he was showing signs of being driven closer and closer to his breaking point.
“No,” I growled in frustrated anger. I tried to reverse our positions so I would gain the upper hand, but he seemed to anticipate this as well. We struggled for dominance briefly before I flopped back down, defeated.
“I hate you,” I told him. “I’m never having sex with you again.”
“Just. Say it.” He demanded, bringing me close to the edge once more. I kept quiet, hoping he would finally lose control and give in. I kissed him, tilted my hips, and began saying his name breathily. Just as I was thinking he had finally given up, he slowed his actions and grinned at me wickedly.
“Darcy,” I dragged his name out in a whine, and then bit down on his shoulder, hard. He only chuckled. “Fine! Please!”
He kissed me.
“Close,” he said approvingly. His finger brushed about an inch to the left of where I needed it too and I cursed him loudly, impressively, and with great feeling. “Say it,” he coaxed.
“Please,” I whimpered, defeated. “Please, I’m begging you,”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the teasing went out of the window, and he gave me exactly what I wanted, with great enthusiasm.
“Yes,” my voice was relief and pure bliss, and I almost thanked him. “Yes, God, Will, don’t stop,” I told him instead. Thankfully, he finally seemed to have no intention of doing so.
∞∞∞
The next morning, when the sun was just peeking over the horizon, Darcy woke me with slow, tantalizing kisses up my back. I was almost afraid he was in the mood to repeat last night’s performance; I didn’t think I could take the torturous teasing again so soon.
Don’t get me wrong, in the end, it had been amazing and a performance I would definitely be willing to repeat, but I was still mad at myself for caving in the first place and actually begging him, so I knew my pride would make me hold out for as long as possible again and I was still exhausted from last night.
To my relief, he only seemed interested in the run-of-the-mill great sex I was used to from him. It was unhurried, as he was not one to skimp on the foreplay, but that was hardly anything to complain about. When he finally sank into me, I whimpered his name.
Instead of the smug, arrogant grin I was used to, he simply said my name back to me, his tone almost reverent, and then followed it with a tender kiss. I was worried that he was forgetting to hate me in these moments, but it was a hard thing to focus on at the moment.
Afterwards, I got a good look at the evidence of my frustration with him the night before. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bending over to sort through the pile of clothes, looking for something to put on. I was still lying down on the bed, turned towards him on my side to watch the muscles work in his back as he moved and stretched.
It was then I noticed scratch marks up his back and I could see the imprint of my teeth on his shoulder. With a blush, I pointed out to him that he might not want to go shirtless around anyone for a while, but he only chuckled. I ran a hand lightly over the worst looking scratch, asking if it hurt. He turned at the concern in my voice and laid a hand casually on my hip.
“I hardly noticed it,” he assured me, and then seemed to realize where his hand was.
He was getting distracted, watching his hand move from my hip to the back of my thigh, so I reminded him how little time we had to get dressed and be ready for the first lecture that morning. He invited me to take a shower with him, with a grin that promised more than just washing up.
I reminded him that I didn’t have a change of clothes here, and could hardly be seen making my walk of shame down to the fifth floor in one of his very obvious, very expensive button ups, my hair wet from a shower. It would be bad enough if people saw me wandering around the hotel this early in the same clothes I had on last night.
“Do you want me to scout ahead, to make sure you get back to your room unseen?”
The fact that he offered at all, combined with his concerned look, kind of made my stomach flutter. This was the second time he was forgetting to be an asshole to me, and okay, maybe he had never been cruel before, but he had also never tried to go out of his way to help me, either.
“That’s okay.” I shook my head, trying to tame my hair and make it look like I had simply slept in my clothes last night. “If I run into anyone, I’ll just say I slept in Jane and Charlotte’s room and that I’m on my way back to change in the room I was supposed to be in.”
He seemed satisfied, but did take the time to make sure his hallway, at least, was clear before letting me slip out. Before I made it more than a step, he took my arm so I pivoted back towards him ins
tead of forward. When I turned towards him to see why, he kissed me.
Nothing else was said, but we did smile at each other —a feat in itself—before I turned and made my way towards the elevators. He waited until I was inside and the doors closed before stepping back into his room. I bit my lip, wondering what the hell we were doing.
After that night, Charlotte began to suspect something.
“You are way too happy,” she told me that morning, after I had finally showered and changed and we were having breakfast in the lobby. Luckily I didn’t have to lie to anyone about where I had been. Charlotte and Jane assumed I slept in my own room, and Cathy assumed I got drunk and crashed with my sister. “Are you sure you and George didn’t…”
“Charlotte! No,” I said huffily. “As if.”
“Just saying.” Charlotte shrugged as she stirred sugar into her coffee. “He was coming on pretty strong, and the last I saw, you two were left alone drinking together. I know from personal experience how dangerous that can be.” She grimaced and glanced over the tables where all the hardware people were sitting together.
She was not, I knew, looking at George. She was looking at Billy Collins, a man she would never admit to anyone but Jane and me that she’d had a drunken one night stand with. This was, of course, before we had started working at DT and could have saved her from that disaster.
I patted her hand in sympathy, knowing what it was like to sleep with someone and wished you hadn’t. I glanced at Darcy, sitting at a nearby table looking impeccably dressed and totally unapproachable. He was drinking coffee and reading an actual, physical newspaper. Well, okay, maybe I didn’t know what it was like to sleep with someone and wish you hadn’t, but I know what it was like to sleep with someone and wonder what the hell you were thinking.
“Jane, you’re her sister, you know her best,” Charlotte said as Jane sat down with a bowl of fruit and a waffle.
“Oh snap,” I said, distracted from denying I had gotten some last night. “They have waffles?”
“Tell me this isn’t the carefree, relaxed, blissful attitude of someone who definitely got some strange last night.” Charlotte continued, ignoring my interruption.
“Gross.” Jane and I said it in unison with similar disgusted faces.
“Prudes.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at us.
“Lizzy has always been a morning person, and she handles her alcohol well,” Jane went on to defend my, according to Charlotte, “suspiciously good mood.”
“No, sorry.” Charlotte shook her head, unconvinced. “This is the face of someone who’s recently had sex.”
“With George? Please. He’s so obviously a player.” I shook my head. She grinned like I had let something slip.
“So, not with George; then with who?” she wanted to know.
“With whom,” I corrected. “Nobody.” I added quickly.
“Let’s see.” Charlotte furrowed her brow in serious thought. “It was probably someone at the bar. I suppose I could ask George if he saw you leaving with someone…”
That might actually be disastrous. As unbelievable as it was that Darcy and I would be having sex on the somewhat regular, if Charlotte and Jane found out I left late last night with him and Charlotte was convinced that I definitely slept with someone, they might come to accept it as a possibility.
“Fine. I slept with someone last night.” I mumbled. Jane looked up, startled. Charlotte looked like she had just won a prize.
“I knew it. And it’s not the first time, is it?” Charlotte demanded.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You have been in suspiciously good moods before,” Charlotte let me know. “This is not the first time the glow of good sex has been on your face.”
“What is on my face?” I asked, aghast.
“So, who is he?” Jane smiled at me.
“I’m not telling, and you will never, ever pry it out of me,” I told them seriously, shaking my head. They seemed to take this in for a moment. Charlotte apparently accepted my determination, because her next few questions had to do with the sex itself and not so much the other person involved. Mercifully, the time for our first lecture of the day finally arrived and the subject was dropped.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Fifth Time
That leads me to incident number five. Charlie was apparently feeling guilty for ditching Darcy so much, so they had spent the day together doing male bonding stuff with Richard, Darcy’s cousin. Jane had also been distracted a lot lately, so she suggested Charlotte and I spend the day with her doing stereotypical girly things, like shopping, spa treatments, and mani pedi’s.
Giggling like teenagers, we even shoved Jane into Victoria’s Secret and made her pick out some sexy underwear for Charlie to enjoy that night. Her face was flamed, but she did end up with a purchase. Of course, that backfired on me when she and Charlotte insisted I pick something out too, for my mystery man.
“We’re not really like that. It’s not like we have a regular meeting time, or…” I trailed off, not knowing how to explain our relationship. Or how it was very possible we wouldn’t be sleeping together again. Four times was enough.
Probably.
“Come on, Liz,” Charlotte prodded. “Every girl needs some sexy lingerie in her arsenal.”
“You’re making good money now,” Jane pointed out. “It’s not like you can’t afford to splurge.”
“Fine, fine.” I huffed and then let them talk me into buying a white, lacy corset thing with matching stockings that I would probably never wear just so we could finally leave the store.
∞∞∞
We met up with the boys that night, as planned, for dinner and drinks. We spent the first hour catching up with Charlie and getting to know Richard, who looked remarkably like his cousin even if their personalities couldn’t have been more different. Darcy, as usual, contributed little to the conversation.
After dinner was finished and we were a few drinks in, Charlotte began hinting at the purchase we convinced Jane to make. Jane blushed, Charlie grinned, Richard hooted appreciatively, and Darcy, of course, remained stoically aloof. That is, until Charlotte turned the tables.
“We even convinced Lizzy to pick something out for her guy,” she said, turning to me with a grin. I felt Darcy look at me.
“Shut up, Charlotte,” I ordered, panic in my stomach. She laughed, totally unaware of my distress—or maybe she was laughing because of my distress.
“So, you’re seeing someone then?” Richard asked with interest.
“No.” I shook my head even as Charlotte said “Yes.”
“I’m not,” I said firmly, glaring at Charlotte.
“Come on Liz, you’re among friends,” Richard grinned. “Go on, then, tell us about this guy,”
“There is no guy,” I replied.
“Girl?” he asked with interest. I wasn’t the only one to roll my eyes.
“Liz has a secret boyfriend she won’t tell anyone about-Ow!” she leaned down to rub her shin. “Jesus, Lizzy, you’re wearing boots.”
“I do not have a secret boyfriend.” I told the table through gritted teeth, sipping my drink and hoping the matter would be dropped.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Richard chimed back in. I glared at him, but as he was sitting next to Darcy, I quickly tore my eyes away.
“Fine, secret sex partner,” Charlotte, apparently undaunted, continued. “Apparently, the best sex partner she’s ever had.”
“Charlotte Lucas, I’m never telling you anything in confidence ever again,” I told her, my face bright red. Charlie and Jane, both of whom hated confrontation, just looked on with sympathy. Richard and Charlotte both howled loudly at my reaction and Darcy, of course, looked incredibly pleased with himself. I aimed another kick, and the smug look was quickly wiped off his face; after a quick frown for my violent actions, he was back to observing the table with indifference.
The party broke up shortly thereafter. Charlie took
Jane back to his place, Richard and Darcy left together, and Charlotte dropped me back off at my apartment, even apologizing for bringing up my secret sex partner.
“I honestly didn’t think it would bother you so much,” she said with an apologetic shrug. I realized I probably shouldn’t have let it; she was too observant, too smart. If she realized the common factor in all of this was Darcy, as unbelievable as it was that he would have been the one I was keeping hidden from everyone, she would put two and two together.
“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have gotten so embarrassed and snapped at you,” I forgave her.
“Brunch tomorrow?” she asked and I agreed.
With the intention of vegging out in front of the TV before bed, I had just changed into a sleeveless white top and some boxer shorts some boyfriend or other had left at our apartment ages ago when there was a knock on the door. I eyed it suspiciously, looked through the peep hole, and then opened the door with a scowl already on my face.
“No,” I said, pushing him back as he stepped into my apartment. It was a halfhearted attempt; I had, after all, opened the door to admit him and there was no force in my effort to push him away. “I’m not having sex with you.”
“That’s too bad,” Darcy said solemnly, eyeing my exposed skin and already running a hand from my waist down over the shorts I was wearing. “Seeing as how it’s the best you’ll ever have,”
“Ugh,” I rolled my eyes, swatting ineffectively at his wandering hands and backing away from him. He just followed. “I don’t know where Charlotte got that from.” He gave me a look that said there was no point in denying my words. “Fine, even if I did say that you were the best I’ve ever had, I obviously meant so far.”
He smirked confidently, cupping my breast and rubbing his thumb over my nipple through only the thin fabric of my shirt. I frowned at him, but didn’t make any attempt to move his hand. He wrapped his other arm around me to stop my constant backtrack away from him and kissed me, still caressing my breast.
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