The French restaurant was as quiet as any establishment could be on New Year’s Eve in Manhattan. The table for two had high-back seats, offering some privacy for an intimate conversation.
They talked about Owen, and about Jason’s family. Jason wanted to know even more about her parents and brother.
He held her hand across the table, and Rachel found herself guilty of playing with her hair close to the dip in the front of her dress just to watch his eyes follow her movement.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” he said after nearly spilling his wine.
“You are a very perceptive man, Mr. Fairchild.”
“What ever happened to your concern about dating me?”
She wasn’t sure. “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”
He lifted her hand from the table, kissed her fingertips. “From the minute Owen walked out of the kitchen with a butcher knife.”
Laughing felt so good.
He was a walking hard-on. Thank God it was subfreezing outside and every time they walked out of a building his body was forced to settle down.
That dress! His eyes lingered on the opening of her coat and the way the neckline plunged. What was she wearing under there anyway? It couldn’t be much.
The car he hired took them to their next destination, their final one before the morning, if he was reading Rachel right. The way she slid up next to him in the back of the car, ignoring the seat belt. Not that you needed much of one when traffic crawled at under five miles per hour.
He placed a hand on her thigh, as if he’d already laid claim to the space. Touching her was fast becoming an addiction. Just as talking with her, texting her . . . spending as much time as he could with her had become. He found a tender space on the inside of her knee and heard her pull in a sharp breath. Jason leaned close so the driver couldn’t hear his words.
“Have the fireworks already started?”
She shifted in her seat, brushed her hand across his lap. He felt himself harden again.
“It’s going to be a long night,” she muttered.
They pulled into a turnaround, and the driver let them out.
Rachel walked alongside him, his hand urging her forward on the small of her back. They walked past the reception desk and straight to a bank of elevators.
New Year’s Eve party banners with a sticker saying the event was sold out told Rachel where they were going before they reached the top floor of the hotel.
They heard the music before the doors opened.
Jason helped her out of her coat, told his body to shut up and behave before he led her in.
“Wow,” she exclaimed. “This looks like quite the party.”
The two-story hall at the top of The Morrison had a balcony that stretched along one whole side of the building.
“You light up the place.”
“That was a cheesy line,” she cautioned him.
“I’ll work on it.” With that, he led her deeper into the room. Before stopping at any familiar faces, he first wanted to say hello to his host.
“I have someone I want to introduce you to,” Jason told Rachel.
“A client or friend?”
“Friend first, he has his own planes, but his business does often charter from us.”
It was hard to miss the tall Texan, and if on the off chance you didn’t see the man, you heard him from half a room away.
Jason moved around the entourage surrounding the man and waited to be noticed. “Jason!”
He accepted the strong handshake and one-arm man-hug.
“I see you’re charming all the women, Gaylord.” And there were several women, much younger than the silver haired single billionaire standing in front of him.
“It’s the accent,” Gaylord boasted. “And who is this filly?”
Jason placed a possessive arm around Rachel for the introduction.
“Gaylord Morrison, this is Rachel Price.”
Rachel’s carefree smile twisted. “Morrison? As in . . .” She looked around the room. “Morrison?”
He pushed his chest out and winked. “If hotels impress you more than airplanes, let me buy you dinner.”
She laughed and shook his hand. “I’m full, but thank you.”
“Sassy. I like her, Jason.”
“She’s taken.”
“Oh, is she?” Rachel turned her head Jason’s way.
He squeezed her waist. “Yes. She is!”
The glow on her cheeks empowered him. “Did Jack and Jessie make it in?”
Gaylord looked over their heads. “They’re around here somewhere. So when am I going to see you out at the ranch?”
“I should have some time in February.”
“Good. Make it happen.” Gaylord was a demanding man. “You work too hard.”
“You’re one to talk,” Jason said.
“Not as much these days. My grandkids need me.”
“I’m sure they do.” It was nice to know the man was slowing down.
“Now go find my son so I can concentrate on finding my next Mrs. Morrison.” Two of the women standing by him glanced at him with his announcement.
“It was a pleasure, Mr. Morrison.”
“It’s Gaylord, darlin’. Now go along, you’re crampin’ my style.”
Rachel was laughing as they walked away. “That guy is a riot.”
“He’s quite the character.”
A waiter stopped and handed them each a glass of champagne.
“Who is Jack?”
“That would be Gaylord’s son. Jessie is his wife and Monica’s sister.”
Rachel hesitated. “How do I not know this?”
“You do now.”
When he found Jack, he also found Monica and Trent.
Monica greeted Rachel with a hug. “I was hoping Jason would bring you.”
“He flew us over in a helicopter. Who does that?”
Trent laughed.
“Don’t get me started,” Monica said. “This one wouldn’t own a car if he could get away with it.”
Jason watched as Rachel settled into a conversation with Jessie and Monica about dating a man with a plane.
“You brought her out in public,” Trent said low enough to avoid Rachel catching his words.
“Is that some kind of issue?” Jack asked.
“She works for us,” Trent told him.
“In marketing.”
Jack glanced at the women. “How are the other employees taking it?”
“They don’t know yet.” And Jason didn’t care what people said.
Someone close by snapped a picture of the three women.
Trent patted him on the back. “That’s about to change.”
“Jealousy runs thick, my friend. Watch her back,” Jack said.
Jason’s gaze ran over the back of her dress, what there was of it. “I plan on it.”
A few minutes later, the band switched tempo, and Jason decided to find out if Rachel liked to dance.
He took the glass from her hand and put it down on a nearby table. “Excuse us, ladies,” Jason told Monica and Jessie. “Rachel promised me a dance.”
Rachel looked at him. “I did?”
He pulled her onto the dance floor and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I haven’t touched you for ten minutes, I was having withdrawals.”
She leaned her forehead into his shoulder and giggled. “I think there are at least three people from the management team at this party,” she said. “Everyone is going to be talking on Monday.”
“Let ’em. I don’t care.”
He could tell she was thinking too much about it.
He spoke in her ear. “I will never let you and Owen down.”
She rested more comfortably in his arms as he moved them around the dance floor. When the music changed, he kept on dancing, swinging her around, making sure she was breathless. Twice he saw her adjust her dress so she wouldn’t fall out of it.
The outside air instantly cooled them off after the
y stopped dancing. The patio was full of people, some smoking in a far corner, others taking in the view. He took his jacket off and put it around her shoulders.
“Look at the streets.”
There were shoulder to shoulder people, the noise from the party below echoed up every building. A distant firework cracked with someone celebrating the new year a little early.
“This is a different view than when I went out with Julie,” she told him.
“We can grab our jackets and go down there if you like.”
She leaned back and let him hold her. “No. I like it up here.”
“Are you glad you moved here?” he asked.
“I am. Two months ago I would have given you a different answer.”
“What changed your mind?” he asked, fishing.
She held his arms, which wrapped around her, and kept her gaze on the skyline. “I started to get into the pace at work. Owen met a few kids he hangs out with . . .”
“Oh.”
“I met this guy. A little cocky. Pushy, even.”
“Is that right?”
She laughed. “Yeah, but he’s cute, so I’ll give it a try.”
He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck.
Rachel shivered.
“Jason?”
“Yeah?” he whispered in her ear.
“What are the chances of us getting a room in this hotel tonight?”
He hummed in her ear. “I already have one.”
She smiled up at him. “I suddenly have the desire to lie down.”
“Was it the helicopter ride?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t.
“No. It’s the fireworks.”
Chapter Seventeen
They didn’t make excuses, they simply slipped away.
Rachel kept expecting nerves to rush to the surface, but they didn’t.
Jason directed the elevator down two floors and walked her to a room. The corner suite offered a similar view as the party going on upstairs. The room itself was composed of a separate bedroom, a sitting area that included a dining table, and a complete minibar. A bottle of champagne was chilling on a coffee table, along with a snack tray with cheese, nuts, and fruit.
“Someone has been planning this,” she said.
“Since the night we met,” he confessed. “The hotel was a last-minute choice.”
“Last minute?” She set her coat down and turned to smile at him.
“Okay, last week.”
She gathered her purse. “I’m going to use the restroom.”
Taking a moment to herself, Rachel offered herself an out. Pros and cons of sleeping with the boss.
Pros . . . those were obvious. The sighworthy man treated her well. She assumed the sex would be worth every breath she took. He wanted her in a way she didn’t think she’d experienced before. He was gorgeous, and Rachel needed his touch more than she needed to eat.
Cons . . . her job. But it was too late for that even without intimacy. Feelings were already involved, so the damage was done. She’d come to that conclusion the night she’d found him in her bedroom, painting it.
Rachel turned to the mirror and messed with her hair.
When she finished with the bathroom, she took a fortifying breath and opened the door to her destiny.
Jason had taken off his jacket and tie and opened the bottle of champagne.
Her stomach fluttered.
He crossed the room and handed her a glass. “Nervous?” he asked.
“A little, I guess.”
“We don’t—”
“Speak for yourself.”
Jason smiled, clicked his glass to hers. “To us.”
She watched him over her glass as she drank.
He reached out and touched a strand of her hair. “I want to say something profound, but all I can think of is how beautiful you are and how lucky I am that you’re here.”
Rachel set her glass down and reached to take his. “Show me.”
Jason didn’t need any more encouragement. He reached for the back of her head and ran his thumb along her lips. He watched his slow, methodical movements.
The rough texture of his thumb pulled her bottom lip down the slightest bit, her tongue touched the tip, and her breath caught.
“I dream of these lips.”
He moved closer but didn’t take the step to kiss her. “Have you dreamt of me?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“Tell me,” he said, his mouth close to hers, his hands firmly on her face, holding her.
She dared to look in his eyes, the heat in them matching the fire he was provoking in her stomach.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Rachel?”
Again, she nodded.
“Then tell me your fantasy.”
She licked her lips, found her voice. “We were in your office.”
Jason trailed one hand down her neck and over her shoulder.
“What were we doing in my office?”
“I was wearing a skirt.”
He trailed his hand down her back and over her hip. “Like this dress?”
“No. It was different. Office attire.”
“What was I doing with your skirt?” His fingers slowly crawled over the edges of the material she wore, gently pulling it up.
She attempted to kiss him, but he pulled back slightly.
“What was I doing?”
“Reaching under it.”
“I wasn’t taking it off?”
“No. We kept our clothes on.”
The coolness of the air brushed against her thighs as Jason did the things she described.
“Was I inside of you in this dream?” His voice was low, the image he brought to mind shot fire into her belly.
“Yes.”
“On my desk?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “On your desk. Against the wall. In your chair.”
The smile on his face fell, his nose flared.
“I fantasized about what I shouldn’t want.”
He dropped the material, rounded his palm over her ass, and pulled her close. “Now I’m going to picture you in my office every day I’m in there.”
There was a whole lot of satisfaction in his statement.
“Jason,” she said, moving closer.
“Yes?”
“Stop. Talking.”
He kissed her with an open mouth, a hungry kiss she returned with the same fervor.
Fire already burned hot with every sweep of his hands over her body, like she’d only dreamt about. And she touched everywhere, his broad shoulders and strong arms. The dress shirt he wore was soft under her hands, but she needed skin and pulled at his clothing to find it. It wasn’t fair that she was standing in a dress that had about the same amount of material as a pillowcase and he was fully dressed from head to toe.
She lost her train of thought when he slid his hand into her dress and cupped her breast. Delightful shivers coursed through her body.
Jason’s tongue disengaged from hers, his lips reaching for the place his hand had been.
With her head leaning back, the heat of his breath brushed the edge of her nipple long before he tasted it. She was breathless before he stopped.
“This dress should be illegal.” He moved to the other side.
When her knees buckled, he caught her in his arms and lifted her off her feet.
She kicked off her pumps as he walked them into the bedroom.
The city offered the only light in the room. The occasional thump of music from the party going on upstairs managed to permeate her senses. Otherwise it was only Jason in her thoughts as he lowered her onto the bed.
She loved the way he was touching her, the whispering of things he wanted to do to her . . . with her. Every word was a level of foreplay Rachel couldn’t remember ever having.
She gave up on the buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head. The feel of him over her made her squirm. The stiffness of the erection still held tight in his clothin
g pushed against her, making her gasp.
Jason lowered the sleeves of her dress and reached around to take down the zipper. “I’ll make love to you in my office with your clothes on, but tonight I want to see all of you.”
She lifted her hips when he pulled her dress away. “We’ll get caught in your office.”
Her dress hit the floor.
“That’s what makes it hot.”
He leaned over and kissed her from nipple to belly button, his fingers playing with the edges of her thong. Rachel knew she was wet, his touch firing every nerve in her being. But when he touched her, that slickness welcomed him.
“So beautiful,” he whispered as he kissed the inside of her thigh.
She opened, wanting . . . hoping . . . waiting.
He moved the strap of clothing aside, and he found her with his mouth and tongue.
“Oh, God.” She arched closer, her heels dug into the bed, her hands clasping the bedspread.
The hard tip of his tongue found the perfect spot. She rose to meet his every touch, and the slow burn lit a fuse. He pulled away and returned more times than she could count. “You’re killing me.”
“Not yet.”
She tried to hold his head in place, keep him where she needed him to orgasm. He teased her until she demanded.
“Jason!”
He chuckled against her and buried his head.
Her body exploded, the teasing made everything more powerful as she rode out the pleasure in crashing waves.
It was a very good thing there was a party going on and not people sleeping all around them, or she wouldn’t have been able to show her face outside the room in the morning.
He took one more pass with his tongue and she jumped.
“Now that is what I fantasized about,” he whispered.
“I like your fantasy better.”
He crawled up her body, lowered himself between her legs. “We’ll make all the dreams come true,” he told her.
She smiled into his eyes and wrapped one leg around his. “We’re going to have to get you out of these pants before we do that.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rolled off the bed.
Rachel tossed her damp panties on the floor and made room for him when he returned.
“You look entirely too relaxed,” he said when he pulled her back into his arms.
Not Quite Crazy (Not Quite Series Book 6) Page 19