Perfect Fit

by Naima Simone

  It can’t be. She stared, her heart performing a dizzying tap dance against her rib cage. It’s not possible.

  Yet meeting the bright blue eyes that had haunted her dreams for the past six months, Rowyn couldn’t deny what her gaze refused to accept.

  Him.

  She’d convinced herself he couldn’t have possibly been as beautiful in reality as he’d appeared in her dreams. After all, when a man gave a woman the most intense, just-this-side-of-death orgasms she’d ever experienced, she could be forgiven for imagining him larger than life. But no, as he stood mere feet away, staring at her with his impenetrable gaze, Rowyn realized her dreams hadn’t been exaggerations.

  The same deep cobalt eyes that reminded her of the heart of the ocean. The same olive-tinted skin that reminded her of Italian villas perched on craggy cliffs and romantic beaches. The same beauty that, if he’d been born centuries earlier, would have had Michelangelo drooling to sculpt him for his David. His dark brown, closely-cropped curls enhanced the image of a Greco-Roman work of art. And Jesus, the body—she shivered. Tall, elegant, and hinting of an almost primitive power that existed under the civilized black jacket, slacks, and maroon shirt.

  She’d been on the receiving end of that power, unleashed and wild.

  The intense stare held her immobile and might as well have been a length of steel chains wrapped around her body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t avoid the hard questions in his penetrating gaze.

  Unbidden, a memory of the last time she’d been with him flared in her mind. Just the thought of that night could make her nipples tingle and her sex clench. There were nights she still woke from erotic Technicolor dreams, body trembling and breath rasping out of her throat. Dreams of a face hardened with lust, gleaming blue eyes, and a big, muscled body sliding on top of hers, thrusting deep in her pussy. Stretching and filling her…

  Rowyn shivered. Damn. All this time later, and an emptiness lingered, a hollow emptiness that could only be filled by a man she believed she’d never see again—the man not five feet away.

  “Rowyn,” Pamela drawled, snatching her from the stupor she’d tumbled into. “How nice of you to show up. Late.”

  The barb might as well have been a rubber ball, for it bounced right off of Rowyn. Her mind felt like it had been wrapped in yards of bubble wrap. What was Darius doing here? In Boston?

  “Darius, please forgive my daughter. She’s a terrible workaholic.” Her mother’s smile was nothing but a tight pull of lips. “Gets that from her father, I’m afraid.”

  Rowyn gritted her teeth. The other people in the room may have assumed Pamela referred to Daniel Harrison, but she and Pamela knew her mother meant Rowyn’s biological father, Charles Jeong. The man Pamela resented even eight years after his death.

  “I apologize.” Rowyn found her voice and the strength to tear her attention from Darius Fiore.

  Daniel stepped forward. “Darius, I’d like to introduce my stepdaughter, Rowyn Jeong. Rowyn”—he nodded—”this is Darius Fiore, a business associate from Seattle.”

  “Nice to meet you.” The greeting sounded formal, polite, and as if she’d never sucked his cock to the back of her throat.

  A small half smile tipped a corner of Darius’s mouth, and for a moment she feared he would mention that they knew each other—biblically. But no; he stepped forward and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Jeong.”

  Rowyn accepted his hand, and he closed his fingers around hers and squeezed. She stared down at their clasped hands and was pummeled by flashes of those same long, elegant fingers stroking in and out of her pursed lips as he demonstrated how he wanted her to suck his cock. Her clit set up a pounding like the drum section in a marching band. Cream moistened her slit, and God, she swore that even now, months later, the tangy flavor of his skin lingered on her tongue.

  Her breath rasped in her throat, and she snatched her hand away as if his palm held a live coal. She avoided his gaze and shifted back a couple of steps, placing distance between them. So close to him, his fresh-air-and-sunbaked-sand scent enveloped her, and she could imagine him holding her against his body, his arms wrapped around her. She took another step back.

  “Are you okay?” he murmured, reaching out to steady her.

  “Yes, fine,” she rasped and moved her arm out of his reach. She glanced up, cleared her throat, and locked eyes with him again. “I’m fine.”

  “Rowyn is one of the most capable women I know.” Cindy’s sweet, bell-like voice interrupted their visual noon showdown. Her younger, gorgeous stepsister slipped an arm through Darius’s and offered Rowyn a glass of wine. “If she claims she’s okay, then believe me, she is.” She chuckled, the sound as delightful as everything else about her sister, and guided Darius back to Daniel and Pamela, leaving Rowyn to follow.

  Rowyn contemplated the pair. Objectively they made a striking couple. Cindy’s brown curls brushed his shoulder, making his tall stature appear even more so, her slender frame the perfect foil for his strong, broad-shouldered physique.

  But subjectively, Rowyn wanted to warn Cindy that if she didn’t remove her touch from Darius, she’d draw back a nub.

  Jesus. This is going to be a long-ass evening.

  “I’ve always wanted to visit Seattle,” Cindy commented, smiling up at Darius. “It’s beautiful scenery. So picturesque and romantic.” She cast a glance over her shoulder in Rowyn’s direction. “Rowyn has been there several times, though. On business, of course.”

  “What other reason would she have to travel? Our Rowyn is married to her job.” The brittle laugh failed to blunt the verbal slice. After thirty years of the emotional stabs, Rowyn should have ceased to bleed fifteen years ago.

  “It is a beautiful part of the country,” Darius said, smoothly filling the uncomfortable silence following Pamela’s thinly veiled barb. “I moved there ten years ago from Florida, and I’ve never regretted it.”

  “I’m sure Seattle has never regretted it either,” Daniel said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “The employment rate must have had a boost with your chain of department stores.”

  Rowyn fought to contain her surprise. It had never occurred to her that she and Darius worked in the same field. Of course, they hadn’t talked about business that night. Funny how she knew his favorite movie was The Breakfast Club, he had no clue who Lady Gaga was, and he couldn’t pass by a Hershey’s bar with almonds without buying one. But how he earned his living had never surfaced in their myriad conversation topics.

  Then again, maybe not so funny. That night she had craved being someone other than Rowyn the coldhearted businesswoman. Rowyn the plainer, bitchier stepsister.

  Rowyn the out-of-wedlock mistake.

  She studied the dark red depths of her glass, imagining it were a crystal ball. Maybe that explained why her mother drank like a fish. Maybe she too hoped answers lay at the bottom of her glass.

  “With the success and popularity of your women’s department, this merger could be highly profitable for both of us.”

  Merger? Rowyn frowned and fixed her gaze and attention on Daniel. She hadn’t heard the slightest whisper of a joint venture with another company.

  “You’re considering merging, Daniel?” Rowyn asked, voice as placid as she could manage even though tiny quivers of disquiet rippled through her stomach.

  “Yes.” Her stepfather regarded her with a faintly puzzled frown. Maybe he forgot I’m still standing here, Rowyn mused. “We’re starting off small. Just the women’s fashion department for now.”

  The quivers swelled into breakers that threatened to tow her under their water of disbelief, anger…and hurt. After years of Daniel’s indifference and careless, sporadic affection, Rowyn had believed her stepfather could no longer hurt her. I stand corrected.

  “Since that is my division, what would happen to the offices here? As well as the employees?” Me?

  A furrow of irritation appeared between his brows, as if her questions were too pesky to address…as if
his stepdaughter was too inconsequential to consider.

  “All that can be worked out.” He waved off her concerns with a small flick of his hand. “Everyone can be reassigned.”

  The pain radiated out from the center of her chest and infected every part of her body, until Rowyn felt like a walking, throbbing wound.

  Everyone.

  She’d busted her ass for his company—for him—for five years. The long hours, the hard work… They had been all she’d had to offer Daniel that he’d willingly take. Never had Rowyn disillusioned herself that she could win his love—that had been reserved for his dead first wife and their daughter—so she’d given him the one thing she had. And now he’d literally brushed it off as one would an annoying gnat.

  Jesus. When would she learn?

  When the hell would she stop caring?

  Chapter Three

  “When the prince set eyes on Cinderella, he was struck by her beauty. Walking over to her, he bowed deeply and asked her to dance. And to the great disappointment of all the young ladies, he danced with Cinderella all evening.”—Cinderella

  “Welcome back, buddy.”—Darius Fiore, to his penis after seeing Rowyn Jeong again

  When Darius had turned twelve, his cousin Jared had liberated the new four-wheeler he’d received for his birthday and wrecked it before Darius had a chance to ride it. At twenty, he’d caught the college undergraduate he’d believed himself in love with treating her economics professor to a late-night blowjob—and who thought Darius should have understood, since she needed a C, as the class was in her major.

  And when Darius was twenty-five, his father had promoted a lazy imbecile over him because he hadn’t wanted his son to rise too quickly in the family business. And that same month, he divorced Darius’s mother and married the aforementioned undergraduate. Apparently the economics professor hadn’t been the only man she’d been blowing behind Darius’s back.

  In every one of those experiences, Darius had been mad as hell. But not one compared to the fury that consumed him as he stood next to Daniel Harrison and witnessed the disregard and cold rejection of his oldest daughter. Correction: stepdaughter, as the businessman had been quick to point out when Darius had inquired about her.

  Blood relation or not, she deserved more respect than Daniel had granted. Before considering partnering up with Harrison Companies, Darius had researched the huge chain. Numbers didn’t lie. The business’s main income was derived from the women’s fashion division. And its success could be directly attributed to Rowyn Jeong.

  Of course when he’d read her name on his reports, he hadn’t realized the departmental head and the woman he’d nearly killed himself fucking six months ago were one and the same.

  He paused inside the entrance to the living room they’d congregated in earlier. She stood at one of the long, oblong windows, staring out into the darkness. For the moment they had the room to themselves. Her parents had been held up by their housekeeper, and Cindy had excused herself, most likely too polite to say she needed to go to the bathroom.

  As he stared at the proud line of Rowyn’s spine in the simple but stylish wine-red sheath, Darius was thankful for the time to study her. Ramrod straight. Unbending. A perfect description of the woman he’d spent the evening sitting across a dinner table from. With a reserve that rode the edge of detachment, Rowyn had dined quietly while her stepfather alternated between boasting about his company and rhapsodizing his younger daughter’s virtues, her mother complained and emptied glass after glass of wine, and her stepsister chattered nonstop about…hell, whatever. He’d stopped listening after the first mind-numbing round of local gossip.

  Through the long dinner hour, Rowyn had appeared untouched, even indifferent. Yet, sitting across from her, he’d spied the flicker of hurt that had darkened her eyes at Daniel’s callous rebuff. And he’d detected the minute cracks in her armor as Pamela delivered well-aimed jabs and cutting remarks.

  “For an educated woman, you have nothing relevant to add to this conversation.” “I wish you would do something with your hair. No wonder a man isn’t attracted to you.” Jesus. It almost seemed as if she disliked her daughter. He had wanted to jump in and demand the older woman lay the fuck off. He’d wanted to catch Rowyn’s gaze, assure her that she wasn’t alone in this battle that masqueraded as dinner. But Rowyn had studiously avoided making eye contact with him, and he’d had to swallow his disappointment along with the Sir Galahad syndrome that had reared its chivalrous head.

  He could have saved his worry, though. Rowyn had taken her mother’s verbal stabs in stride. If he hadn’t been studying her so closely, he would have missed the slight tightening of her lips and the small tilt of her chin.

  Who was Rowyn Jeong? The contained, aloof businesswoman? Or the sensual, uninhibited lover who had disappeared without a hint to her existence except for the lingering scent of sex on his bedsheets and a beautiful necklace and pendant?

  Determined to find out, Darius stepped forward. He noticed her back stiffen as he approached, but she didn’t turn around to face him. He didn’t pause until the lapel of his jacket grazed the deep red satin of her dress.

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. It was either that or grab her arms, turn her around, and lick the curve of her plump bottom lip before sliding his tongue deep into the mouth he’d had wet dreams about.

  Their eyes met and held for a brief space of time in the darkened window that reflected their images. Unlike Cindy, the top of Rowyn’s head grazed his chin, and he didn’t feel like a hulking giant next to Thumbelina. From experience, he knew her sexy curves complemented his body like a perfect puzzle piece. Again and again, her breasts had pressed to his chest, his hips to that beautiful rounded ass. He inhaled. And like a deer scenting water, his body reacted to her skin’s perfume.

  His breathing deepened; his skin prickled. His cock hardened to the point of sweet pain. Fuck, the smell of her was like a hot palm squeezing his dick.

  “Did you just smell my hair?”

  The husky tone contradicted the sharp words. Her back remained to him, but Darius glimpsed the narrowing of her eyes in the window.

  “Yes, I think I did.” From her silence, he assumed his candor surprised her. He could have lied. Probably should have. But considering the lurid images that had been running through his mind from the moment she’d walked through that living room door over an hour ago, smelling her hair seemed pretty low on the you’re-a-sick-fuck list. Hell, every time she’d closed her lips around her fork, he’d pictured Rowyn as she’d been that night—kneeling before him, her pretty mouth stretched wide around his cock, her moans vibrating along his skin, dark eyes gleaming with pleasure…

  His skin felt like a dry-clean-only suit that had been washed: tight as shit. His cock throbbed, and lust gripped his gut in a headlock. In six months, no other woman had made his dick twitch, much less harden to full erection. Shit, if not for the fact that it jerked and erupted in his hand every night to thoughts of this woman, he would’ve believed an emergency regimen of Viagra was in order.

  Rowyn turned to face him. Without flinching, she tilted her head back to meet his stare. No fidgeting. No hint of coyness. No flirting. And damn, wasn’t that hot?

  “At the risk of sounding cliché, it’s a very small world.” The understatement of the century. He scoffed.

  “Somehow I don’t believe Jiminy Cricket meant bumping into someone he’d seen naked. And in his parents’ home.”

  Though the image of a tuxedo-clothed cricket bumping uglies was disturbing, he couldn’t suppress the spurt of humor at her dry wit. It had been one of the characteristics that had captured his attention and kept him pinned to that barstool all those months ago. It was also one that had failed to make an appearance this evening until now. Now, as then, it only enhanced the natural beauty and allure that even her cool demeanor, restrained hair, and subtle clothing couldn’t hide.

  “No wonder I couldn’t find you,” he said, shifting closer,
trespassing her space. This close, he didn’t miss the glint of emotion that flickered in her eyes. Oh yeah, this woman would guard her personal territory and obviously resented his invasion. But she didn’t back up either. Did he say her straightforward manner was hot? He meant hot as fuck.

  Unable to stop himself, he lifted a hand to her face and stroked his thumb over the lush bottom lip that fascinated him. He wanted to bite it, suck the sweet flesh between his teeth. His dick jerked, totally on board with the idea.

  “Do you know there are fifty-six Rowyns in the greater Seattle area?” he asked softly.

  “You searched for me?”

  Darius ignored her question and the disbelief that coated it. In one motion, he dropped his hand and retreated away from temptation. Need seemed to replace the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins. The exotic almond shape of her heavily lashed eyes, the high, aristocratic cheekbones, the sinful mouth… He stifled a groan and took another step back. God should have made her the eleventh commandment.

  “Why did you leave?” The words seemed to erupt from his lips. The question had plagued him since that night and couldn’t be contained a moment longer. Had he demanded too much from her? Had he hurt her in some way?

  The worry had been like an insistent itch at the back of his neck that he couldn’t ease. His memories were of a hot night filled with the most incredible sex with an incredible woman. As he’d fallen asleep, waking up to that same woman and learning more about her had been his last coherent thought.

  Instead he’d woken to an empty bed and an emptier hole in his gut, as if he’d been offered the opportunity to partake of a sumptuous feast and had arrived too late.

  Rowyn blinked, then cocked her head, her expression as bland as her tone. “To stay two nights would have been a bit counterproductive to the purpose of a one-night stand.”