That I would be able to feel that delicious hard body against mine. That I would unbutton his shirt one button at a time, while gazing into his amber-colored eyes. I would guide the tension in my body while trying to keep my breathing steady. I would push his shirt away from his shoulders and throw it on the floor. With my hands, I would shamelessly follow the outlines of his shoulders to his muscular arms. I would kiss and lick the tattoo on his arm and make him tremble with delight. Slowly, my hand would trace his chest down to his tight stomach and I would press my body against his. Even more slowly, I would trace the hairs on his belly all the way down to the spot where I would grab his thick cock to squeeze it tightly. He would sigh in pleasure, throwing his head back. Looking down, he would see me on my knees, tearing open his pants and liberating his throbbing dick.
All of a sudden, I realize Booty Boy has stopped talking. I shake myself from my fantasy and ask him what’s wrong. He doesn’t say anything, but I see he’s looking at something over my shoulder. Something is suddenly pulling at me. Before I’ve turned around, I feel someone pressing against me from behind, with his hands on either side of the bar top, caging me in. I hear him sigh and I smell his familiar citrusy scent. Then I hear his husky voice.
“Do you often send pictures of your beautiful, tight ass to your co-workers?”
I DON’T TURN AROUND, but continue to stare ahead, while I feel his breath on my neck. His large chest is against my back and I feel angry—no, furious. I’ve exposed myself to this man, literally pulled my panties down for him! I’m feel angry and ignored. That was the first and the last time I send anyone a sexy selfie again!
“No,” I manage to get out without bursting into tears. I’m the kind of woman who cries when she’s angry. I cry when I’m sad and when I’m happy as well. I’m a real crybaby. I wish I wasn’t, but hey, there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Are you mad at me?” he whispers in my ear, giving me goose bumps. He brushes my hair back, exposing my neck and ear, but I refuse to speak.
Be strong, Nina, be strong—oh, the irony! Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I keep repeating this to myself, trying to regain control of my emotions. I just look straight ahead. From the corner of my eye, I see Booty Boy get up. I shoot him a quick glance and see he’s pointing at Tiger.
He whispers, “I’ll be there if you need me,” and then he’s gone.
Sebastian notices him leaving and says, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“No.”
“Okay. So, I ask you a question and you only answer with a yes or a no, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you stopped answering my texts, or is your battery dead?”
“Yes and no.”
“When I got your photo, I didn’t know how to respond. It seemed more appropriate to speak to you in person. So, I got in the car and here I am.” He grabs hold of my chin and slowly turns my face toward his. His warm eyes radiate a certain serenity.
“I thought you were here with your girlfriends,” I say quickly, my tone irritated. I twist my face out of his grip and continue staring ahead of me.
“Oh, we’re done with the yes-and-no-game? Good! What girlfriends?” He takes my face between his hands and spins me around again.
“The three little devils. Huey, Dewey, and Louie, or whatever their names are.”
He looks at me surprised and a little amused. I feel the need to clarify myself. “Your private harem?” I point in the direction of the three women at the side of the dance floor. Of course, they’re looking back at us. Figures.
As soon as he’s discovered who I mean, he gives the women a threatening look. It actually looks very terrifying. This is clearly a not a man you want to piss off. They immediately look away, each in a different direction.
He exhales deeply and then gives me another intense look. I look away, because I don’t want him to see my teary eyes. Decisively, he grabs my elbows and spins me around completely, so my body gets pressed up against his, front-to-front. Oh, so strong!
He holds his index finger up in front of my nose and I glance at it.
“One, that’s not my private harem. They are no devils either. And Huey, Dewey, and Louie, they are Donald Duck’s little nephews, right? No, I’m pretty sure that’s not who they are either. When I was fifteen, I ran away from home and ended up in Chicago. I met them there and took them under my wing. Those were some rough times for us back then, but we managed to pull ourselves from the gutter. Since then, we’ve always been there for each other and we always will.”
He adds a second finger.
“Two. I came here for you. I wasn’t planning on coming here tonight at all.”
He adds another finger. Now three fingers are hovering in front of my nose.
“Three. I wanted to thank you personally for that nice picture you sent me. With a kiss.”
Deep inside of me, I can feel a sweet joy unwrap itself. He came here for me ... Very slowly, he inclines his face towards mine. He bends his tall body forward and studies my lips as he comes closer.
He’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me. Am I going to let him, or not? What shall I do? What? Who am I kidding? There is no way I will be able to resist this man!
His lips touch mine and the world stops turning. He licks my top one, requesting permission, and I surrender. He grabs my neck with one hand and pulls me closer with the other. It’s the sweetest kiss I have ever had.
He carefully explores my mouth as I explore his, and I taste strawberries and a hint of mint. A citrusy scent combined with pineapples enters my nose. His aftershave. The warmth of his mouth and lips makes my anger disappear and turn into desire.
God, how I long for this man. I want to be nearer to him in every possible way. Want to crawl into him and feel safe in his arms. As we deepen our kiss, I wander off into a world in which only he and I exist. It’s just him and me. I can no longer hear the music. All fear and insecurity disappear. His kisses feel so damn good. He tastes so sweet. It’s all I can do not to lick his entire face.
I’m floating. My head is empty. My eyes are shut, but I can still see his face and his eyes looking deep into my soul. Seconds pass. Minutes. Hours? How long is this kiss lasting? I don’t know, but I don’t care. There nothing in this world but him and me. Us.
When I open my eyes, I suddenly realize he stopped kissing me. I’m at a loss for words. “What is this?” I ask.
“This is us,” he whispers in my ear. He takes my hand, leads me off, and I willingly follow.
If my life were a highway, the passenger would now be sitting in the driver’s seat.
Chapter 15 - Deal
NINA
He leads me to a quiet corner of the room, where we take a seat next to each other on one of the couches. On the table, there is a sign that says reserved. Next to it, I see a bottle of champagne in a cooler and two already poured glasses. It’s clear he planned this.
“We need to talk,” he says, pulling me into his lap.
“We need to talk,” I mimic. I’m still a little high from the kiss.
“Why were you so angry?” There is no reproach in his voice; he just wants to know what’s going on with me.
Now that I had the chance to settle down a bit, I think I can manage to talk without the waterworks. “Every time I get the feeling that I’m getting closer to you, you reject me again.” I feel very small by admitting this. Like a kid whining because someone took her popsicle. It’s ridiculous I feel that way. I never have. I’ve never felt so vulnerable as when I’m with him.
“How did I reject you?”
“Do I really need to explain? Isn’t it obvious? I have never sent a sexy picture to anyone ever before. It was a pathetic attempt to show you what you missed the other night when you didn’t want to ... when you didn’t want to fuck me!”
He exhales and absentmindedly scratches his right brow. After
a short pause, he continues. “So it wasn’t a gift?” he asks, and I shake my head.
He copies the gesture and says, “You like me. You want to fuck me. I understand that, and I feel very flattered. I want that too, because I’m convinced that it would be an amazing experience. But I also know that sex with you will be so much more for me than just a sexual act.”
More than a sexual act? What the hell is he talking about? Sex is sex, right? Why does he keep insisting on making more of it than it is?
I try to understand what he means, but it feels as though we are having two different conversations. I open my mouth to ask for an explanation, but he puts his hand on my lips to prevent me from talking.
“Tell me the truth. Do you like me because you want to conquer me, like one of your other sexcapades? For the rush you get from having used a man? If that’s so, I don’t want to be one of your conquests, Stellina. Is that a clear enough explanation for you?”
Wow. He knows about the sexcapades... what the f...?
I raise my index finger, right in front of his face, just like he did to me just now.
“One. Sex is sex. Nothing more, nothing less. Two people having a good time with each other.”
Then I raise a second finger.
“Two. What the hell are you talking about? Are you talking about love? That sounds nice and romantic, but I don’t believe in it. I do believe in attraction and being in love, but that is just a temporary condition. It passes and becomes a dull routine. It becomes boring. The things you used to like about someone will start to annoy you. It can never last long.”
He wants to respond, but there is something important I want to say, so I quickly add a third finger.
“Three. But ... maybe, on some level, I would be open to the idea of love. The adventurer in me is telling me to give it a shot. But I don’t know if I can do that without that sexual bond. I feel very attracted to you, you know, Cowboy.”
Where on earth did that Cowboy come from all of a sudden? I blurted it out before I could stop myself. But come to think of it, it does suits him.
“Cowboy?” His right eyebrow shoots up.
“Yes. Sebastian is not your real name. And Gers ... well, that doesn’t fit. And you call me Stellina, so I need a nickname for you too. So, Cowboy, it is!” With a naughty smile on my face, I continue, “Or would you rather I stick to American God or beautiful boss? I can if we’re alone, but with people around, it would provoke some weird reactions, I think.”
My remark was meant as a joke, but he’s not laughing. He doesn’t even react. Instead, he slowly starts covering my neck with soft little kisses.
“I don’t care what you call me, as long as you’re thinking of me and no one else,” he says.
I try not to get too distracted by his wonderful lips and romantic words. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I can hardly believe I’m going to follow Booty Boy’s advice. Is that really the wisest choice? Well, here it comes ...
“Anyway ... I cannot go from no strings at all and free sex to friendship without sex in just one day. That’s just way too vague for me. But we can make a deal. A compromise if you will. That’s the way couples do, right? What do you think?”
“You think it’s too vague? You want to know what you’re getting yourself into?”
“Yes, basically,” I answer honestly.
He gets a serious, corporate look in his eyes. “Okay. Correct me if I’m wrong, but what you are saying is that the woman who doesn’t like to plan, who loves adventure, and wants to seize the day, you, you want to plan this out?” The last couple of words come out with a smile. A smug smile.
He does have a point. It doesn’t sound like Nina. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Well, that’s the way I want to embark on this adventure, yes,” I admit honestly. “But that’s not entirely what I mean. I mean, I give a little, you give a little. It’s a compromise.”
“I’m very good at making compromises. Hit me,” he says, full of confidence and with a generous smile.
Suddenly, he pushes to his feet. He firmly places his slightly parted feet on the floor and starts rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, as if he’s getting ready for a difficult negotiation.
It’s not until that moment I realize he looks extremely sexy again. It’s not his clothes because he’s wearing a plain white shirt and black jeans. It’s the way he moves. The way in which his clothes embrace his body. As usual, it arouses me.
Especially now that he pulls the elastic band from his hair and it suddenly cascades onto his shoulders. His muscular arms draw my attention as he lifts them to collect his hair into a ponytail again. Is he trying to intimidate me, or what? It’s a dramatic gesture, a show he’s putting on, I guess. His smile tells me he’s enjoying this. Well, two can play that game.
With just as much, or maybe even more, theatrical shebang, I lift my sexy, high-heel, patent-leather-shoed right foot up in the air. High enough to almost grant him a nice view underneath my skirt. By leaning back on my elbows a little more while sitting on the couch and inclining my head backwards as well before I rise, I lift my leg up even higher. I place that same leg on the floor, and stand right in front of him, I shake loose my hair, so it looks wild. I arch my back and place both of my hands on my hips. There. Let’s have it. I’m ready for the so-called fight.
I give him a very serious look, which he returns. Then both we burst out laughing at the same time. He takes both my elbows and places a quick kiss on my cheek.
“You’re funny,” he says. Is he serious? He started this, didn’t he? I’m just copying him.
“No, you are funny!” I laugh.
All of a sudden, he grabs hold of me and we fall back on the couch together. His hands slide around my waist. I realize he must need the physical contact because he’s always touching me. For someone who doesn’t want sex, that is very contradictory. Or maybe it’s just an American thing?
“You want to get to know me without sex. I want to get to know you with sex. So we’ll have to meet each other in the middle. I give you one week without sex and you give me a lot of sex in the second week.” There, that’s my proposal. Simple enough, isn’t it? Could have thought of that yourself, Mr. Businessman?
Apparently, sometimes miracles do happen. He offers me his right hand, as if he wants to shake on it. I would have expected it to take a lot more negotiating. A lot more convincing. But it doesn’t seem like he needs to think about it at all and he says, “You’ve got yourself a deal.” We shake hands, but he keeps a grip on mine.
“No intercourse in the first week. That’s the deal,” I clarify one more time. Because, well, sex can mean many things, right?
“I do have one very important condition, though.” Oh ... I knew that was too easy ...
“Which is?” I ask.
“For the next two weeks, we belong exclusively to each other. No other men for you and no other women for me.”
Okay ... I think. It doesn’t seem like too much to ask. It seems as though, ever since the arrival of this American Cowboy, my thoughts have only been devoted to him anyway. I seem to have lost all interest in other men. And the thought of him with other women is no picnic either. But then I realize, I still don’t know what the deal is with that tyrannical trinity ...
“Oh, right, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s the deal exactly with Huey, Dewey, and Louie? Are you romantically involved with them? Why are they shadowing you like vultures all the time? And why do they hate me so much?” I want to pull back my hand in expectation of his response, but he won’t let go, squeezing my hand even tighter. Thoughtfully, he looks up, as if the right words are hanging from the ceiling.
“I am not romantically involved with them. They are good friends. We’ve known each other for a long time. We help each other.” That sounds like there’s a story behind it. “But they have no influence on my relationship with you whatsoever,” he clarifies.
“What do they have against me?”
They don’t like change? What’s that supposed to mean? And what will change? I want to know the story behind this. “Are you gonna tell me what the deal is exactly between you and them, or what?”
“That’s very private. I would only tell you if we had a deal.”
Is he really using my curiosity about his relationship with those three women to get me to agree to his demand of exclusiveness?
“We have a deal,” I say with a broad grin. “But not because I want to know what’s going on between you and Donald’s nephews, but because I want to know what the deal is between you and me.”
We shake hands, and he pulls me to him and kisses me.
“After these two weeks, you won’t want to let me go.” His deep voice is like a drug for me.
“After these two weeks, you will definitely want to let me go,” I whisper in return.
HE KISSES ME, SOFTLY and slowly, like we have all the time in the world. We enjoy each other’s mouths without any rush, and his scent fills my nose like a summer breeze. I take a deep breath; I can’t get enough of it. When our lips part, he also exhales deeply and looks me in the eye. In the background, I hear a Jessie J song I love. It’s called “Personal” and it fits the moment. Quickly and without hesitation, he lifts me up and sets me in his lap, so I’m straddling him. He brushes strands of hair from my face and pushes them back behind my ears.
“We’re not done talking yet, Stellina,” he says, half-whispering in my ear.
“Oh.” It’s the only thing I can say.
He points at his chest pocket. “Take that out, if you will.”
I can see now that there is something small and square in his chest pocket. I take it out. It’s a picture. An old photograph, already discolored. While I’m studying him, he explains what it is.
Chasing the CEO (The CEO Duet, #1) Page 11