The Last Affair--A Hot Billionaire Workplace Romance

by A. C. Arthur

  He’d walked past her while he talked. He seemed to be moving a lot. She wasn’t totally sure what that was about, so she took another drink. “Or I can go back to my room? Is that the option you’d prefer?” Because his offer sounded like it wasn’t really an offer, rather like it was something he’d say to one of the women he could take or leave. Why that irritated her she wasn’t sure.

  In bed already, he pulled the sheets up and folded his arms over his bare chest. “Honestly, it’s been a very long time since I’ve slept with a woman. I mean, actually lay in a bed all night and slept with her.”

  Well, there was her answer. “I understand.”

  He didn’t want her to sleep in here with him tonight. Turning, she went to grab her dress. She wasn’t dealing with the garter and nylons again, so she just pushed them into her purse. She gathered the dress in her hands so she could slip it over her head, but she gasped when he also grabbed hold of it, now standing in front of her.

  “This weekend will probably be the first of a lot of things, for both of us,” he said, staring at her intently. “We might as well start with sleeping in the same bed.”

  She could tug on the dress, and he’d let it go. He’d watch her put it on and walk out the door without trying to stop her, because that’s the type of guy he was. Maurice didn’t push, not even at work. He stated his case, proved his point and moved on. For those smart enough to follow his lead, it paid off. For others who still doubted him, well, it maybe didn’t work out so well. Tonight, she was in the position of having to make that decision. Did she follow his lead, or should she walk away?

  Walk by her own choice and not from any type of fear or demeaning words, which she’d been so used to in the past. But not run because the pain and disgust had become so unbearable. She wasn’t giving in; she was standing for what she wanted. Because deep down she knew she wanted to sleep in that bed with Maurice tonight.

  “I’ll stay.” She let go of the dress. “But I sleep on the left side, closest to the window, and I like more pillows than covers, just in case you like to hog the sheets.”

  He grinned and tossed her dress onto the chair with her coat and purse. “I’ll try my best to accommodate you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT HAD ONLY been his goal not to take all the sheets last night. Rolling over and staying plastered to the back side of her body wasn’t what he’d thought would happen. That’s when it occurred to him that maybe he should stop planning and assuming what would happen between them this weekend; so far, he’d been wrong on two accounts.

  Maurice wondered what time it was when he opened his eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of whatever type of product she used on her hair. He could’ve moved a little, lifted his body up to see over her to the alarm clock on the nightstand, but he was really comfortable where he was. His arm draped over her waist, her butt cradled against his morning arousal.

  He knew it was morning. They hadn’t closed the curtains all the way last night so about six inches of light peeked through. It slashed across her shoulder, giving her skin a shimmering glow. Without thought, he placed a soft kiss on that spot. Then another before telling himself he was being ridiculous.

  Tender, romantic, thoughtful—he could be all those things when he wanted to. But he hadn’t wanted to in a very long time. He wasn’t an ass: he knew how to pour on the charm—it was actually part of his natural personality—and he knew how to say all the right things. The latter was pretty much common sense. Besides, the women he dated didn’t require much. They already wanted him. If they hadn’t made that perfectly clear right from the start, he probably wouldn’t have pursued them. If they weren’t looking for flowers, candlelight dinners and gifts on Valentine’s Day, then they definitely weren’t looking for love—which kinda went hand in hand with all that romance stuff. They could focus on a good time otherwise.

  The real point behind his methodology for dealing with women was simple: India Frazier. He’d loved India, as much as an nineteen-year-old could love someone. But his love or infatuation or whatever it could be called had left India paralyzed and him forever scarred. For months after the accident he’d been on the brink of an emotional breakdown, repeatedly going over in his mind the moment he made the decision to pick India up in his new car and ultimately put her in harm’s way. Besieged with guilt over the situation he’d so callously put the person he’d loved in, he vowed it would never happen again. He’d never fall in love or put his emotions over common sense again.

  Des didn’t seem the type to need all those material proclamations, anyway. And, like him, she wasn’t looking for anything permanent. She did, however, demand respect and honesty—which he could definitely do.

  “What time is it?” She lurched up in the bed, her shoulder slamming into his mouth, which was still pretty close.

  Pride kept him from crying out when he thought he might be tasting a little blood from the collision. Instead he pressed his finger to his lip as he reared back, and a hasty glance at his hand provided relief when there was no blood to be seen. “Not sure. Just woke up.” She didn’t need to know he’d been enjoying the quiet and the feel of her closeness for a few minutes now.

  “Oh no!” She rolled out of his grasp and reached over to the nightstand to grab her phone. “Why didn’t my alarm go off?”

  He wasn’t a morning person at all, so he lay back on the pillows and dropped an arm over his eyes. “What time is it?” He knew she was a morning person because she was in the office by seven every day of the week. Weekends he wasn’t sure, but since today was Saturday and she was obviously freaking out, it was a good bet that she woke up at the crack of dawn every damn day.

  “Oh no! It’s nine forty-five. I should’ve been up by now.” He lifted his arm and peeked out to see her fingers moving busily over her phone. “I can’t believe all the messages I’ve missed. I’m usually up by now checking and...ugh, I just don’t know how this happened.”

  He did, and he tried like hell not to smile. “Well, you know what they say about good sex?”

  She glared at him over her shoulder, that slash of sunlight casting her face in an ethereal hue. “No. I don’t know what they say.” Her lips were tilted upward in the cutest smirk he’d ever seen, and he tried not to grin.

  Losing the battle, he replied, “Good sex’ll put you to bed right.” He laughed so hard at his own joke he didn’t see when she reached for the pillow and threw it at his face.

  “Nobody says that, you goof.” He could hear the smile in her voice, so she wasn’t angry. “And I’m serious. I’m usually up by now. Plus, and I’m sure this will interest you, we missed the first activity on the agenda this morning.”

  He did sober, just a little, at that statement. Enough so that he leaned over to see her phone screen. “What was the first activity? Something about sex, right?”

  “Everything this weekend is about sex, Maurice.” She didn’t bother to grace him with a look this time, just kept scrolling through her emails. “I don’t know what it was, I just remember it started at nine.”

  “You have your inbox open. Just find the welcome email and click on the agenda.”

  “I’m checking my work emails.”

  “The office is closed on Saturdays. And this weekend is a holiday, so you don’t need to check any of that stuff.”

  “Work isn’t just relegated to nine to five, Monday through Friday.”

  “Yeah, it is. That’s why it’s called the weekend—the week’s end, get it? Because it’s time for you to rest.”

  Now she did give him that smirk again. “You’re ridiculous, and I know you better than that. Besides, I do sleep in until around six on Saturdays.”

  “You call getting up at six sleeping in?” That alone should be a criminal act. And her looking as pretty as she did with her hair mussed and her cranky attitude was a little more on the sexy-as-hell side.

  “Yep.
I’m normally up at four.”

  The sound he made reflected the pain he felt at simply hearing such an insanely early hour in the morning.

  She shook her head. “The early bird gets the worm.” Her tone was light, her attention still set on her phone. “That’s what my grandmother used to say, and living in a house with five older brothers, it was true. My mom’s a nurse, and she worked the night shift for the pay differential. My grandmother was at home with us most of the time, and she got up with the chickens, cooking us a big breakfast every morning. If I wasn’t first at the table, my greedy brothers would scarf everything down before I got a plate.”

  He’d never heard Des talk about her family before. He knew she had one because his mother had mentioned it at some point, but there’d never been a reason for the two of them to have a real conversation about it. “You’re from Chicago, right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Why don’t you go home to be with your family?” Because for the last few years she’d been at his family’s house celebrating Thanksgiving with them.

  “I’m busy. They’re busy.” She shrugged.

  Her clipped responses told him she didn’t want to talk about that subject anymore, and he was happy to oblige. She already knew about his family, and still, if she’d started asking about them while they were lying partially naked in this nice warm bed on a Saturday morning, he wouldn’t want to discuss them, either.

  Deciding she wasn’t going to pause checking work emails to look at the schedule, he rolled over to his side of the bed and grabbed his phone off its charger. Scrolling to the welcome email and agenda only took a few seconds.

  “Morning Sex Mania,” he announced, unable to hide the rise in excitement from his voice. “That’s what we missed. Damn, we could’ve gotten some tips on great morning sex.”

  She didn’t budge. “I don’t need any tips on good morning sex. All you need is the morning and a great partner. Boom. Done.”

  With that said, he dropped his phone, rolled over again and scooted his very hard dick up against her ass, which was barely covered by those black lace panties.

  “Well, we might as well get started.”

  * * *

  It had been Desta’s idea to forego the morning sex. This time she did need to go to her own room, for a shower, clean clothes and a breather. He’d been right about why she’d overslept, even though she’d never in a billion years admit that to him.

  The sex had been great. That orgasm had clearly knocked her ass out for more than ten hours. She rarely ever slept that many hours straight. And then there was waking to the touch of his lips on her shoulder. That had felt too good. And too intimate, which was why she’d bolted up out of bed on her partially exaggerated quest to figure out the time. This weekend wasn’t about intimacy, it was about sex. Very good sex, if last night was any indication.

  After showering and slipping into fitted gray pants and a matching turtleneck, Desta pulled on black knee-length boots. Working in the fashion industry had obviously worn off on her, because she was at the mirror applying makeup and styling her hair for the next twenty-five minutes. Diamond-stud earrings she’d purchased for herself as a birthday gift last year were quick to affix, as were the three silver charm bracelets she favored with her casual attire. A spritz of perfume and she was walking across the room to grab her phone and Dear Lover ID badge. Her cell buzzed as soon as she picked it up.

  Meet me at the elevator in 5 min. We don’t want to miss Make-Up and Mimosas!

  Initially, she grinned at Maurice’s text—he couldn’t be that anxious to get free mimosas. But then her body tensed in an all-too-familiar way as she stared at the text and the directive he’d given. Gordon used to give concise directions and expected them to be followed without hesitation. How many times had her snappy comebacks, honed from growing up with bossy brothers, led to heated arguments with her ex and him tossing out her favorite perfume or cutting her nice blouses into shreds? Too many to count. She didn’t want to recall any of that right now. With a shake of her head, she decided she was being foolish. She slipped her phone into one back pocket and the ID and room key card into the other, then headed for the door.

  “Right on time,” Maurice said, tapping his watch when she approached the set of elevators on the far end of the floor.

  “We could’ve taken the stairs.” Ignoring another ping of distress, she tried to keep things light. That was the key to this weekend, light and simple. Just the way their email exchanges had gone. If she didn’t let all the reasons they shouldn’t be doing this together flood her mind, these next couple days would go smoothly. The incessant pricks from her past were another matter, but she’d been able to push them aside for years so far. This weekend wasn’t going to test her.

  “Let’s skip the stairs. I like the R&B station they have playing in the elevators.” He winked as the door opened, and waved a hand for her to step inside the car before him.

  She did, giving him a playful jab to his gut as she passed by. “You’re at the gym every day. Don’t slack just because it’s the weekend.”

  “Not all of us are as diligent as you, Des. I go to the gym every morning because there’s one in our building. When I travel, I cut back on workouts.” He stood right next to her in the elevator, which wasn’t necessary since they were in the car alone.

  He smelled good. It was the same fragrance with hints of sandalwood she always smelled on him, but today it seemed more prominent, more alluring. His boots today were chocolate brown, pants a shade lighter, and his button-front white shirt showed the RGF emblem on the right-hand side of his chest.

  “You’re not going for anonymity, huh?”

  When he stared at her quizzically, she nodded to his shirt. “Your face is familiar enough, but you could always lie if someone called you out. Wearing an RGF shirt so openly just connects more of the dots.”

  He glanced down at his shirt and then back up to her when the elevator door opened. Again, he signaled for her to walk ahead of him before stepping out to join her in the bustling lobby.

  “The key to not alerting people to who you are is to mingle like you don’t care. Besides, as you might recall, every guest attending this weekend was required to sign that nondisclosure agreement.” With that he looped his arm in hers and led them through the crowd of people either dressed to hit the slopes or heading to the resort’s restaurant for breakfast. A sign next to the front desk showed the Dear Lover logo—a white pen in hand centered inside a gray heart—and the words Morning Sessions right next to an arrow.

  “We’re this way,” he told her and led them in that direction.

  Five minutes later they were inside another room with wall-to-wall windows and a breathtaking view of the mountains lined with snow. There were crimson-colored beanbag chairs in pairs around the room. On one wall was a long dark wood table filled with mimosas. At the center of the room was a podium and microphone, and behind that was a projector screen.

  “Badges?” a petite woman asked before they could fully enter the space.

  Maurice pulled his from his pocket and held it up, while Desta was so busy looking around the room, he had to nudge her before she reached into her back pocket to show her own. He’d been right to remind her about the NDA they’d signed. It was part of the registration process, and she’d read it a couple times before affixing her signature. She thought it was a good extra layer of privacy offered by Dear Lover. Of course, it hadn’t occurred to her that someone as notable as Maurice would be a client. Not considering millionaires, celebrities or other well-known people would be searching for companionship may have been naïve on her part. At any rate, this weekend was a private event, so in essence whatever happened in the Finger Lakes stayed in the Finger Lakes. Still, while that form was meant to be reassuring to all Dear Lover’s clients, she knew firsthand that rules were often overlooked for the sake of a good story.

 
They were directed to the side of the room closest to the windows to find a seat. “You okay?” he asked, pointing to an empty set of beanbags.

  “Yeah. This is, uh, not what I expected.”

  “What’d you think it was going to be, desks and chairs? Pencils and paper for us to take notes on the lecture?” He plopped down way too happily onto his bag, then looked up at her with a toothy smile.

  She went down a little slower, not because she thought she might fall but because her fitted pants were more fashionable than practical. Bending to sit just about on the floor wasn’t what she thought she’d be doing this morning. “Oh come on, you gotta admit this is a different type of setup even for you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, moving around in the chair like he was a kid trying to feel every bean inside the bag. “But it’s kinda fun.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she shook her head and turned her attention to the scenery. The sight of fluffy snow draped over the mountains was like a balm to the turmoil riling in her stomach. Her efforts to combat the memories of Gordon that insisted on flooding her mind were proving unsuccessful. It was strange because this wasn’t the first time she’d dated since walking away from him. Of course, she’d never been with a coworker or a man who was the face of an international fashion house, but that was just a small detail. Right?

  “You wanna ski after this?”

  “Huh?” She returned her attention to Maurice with a start.

  He pointed to the window. “You’re looking out there like you can’t wait to hit the slopes. When this is done, we can change and go out if you want.”

  “Oh. Sure. I haven’t really been anywhere outside the city in a while, so the scenery is pretty nice.”

  “How haven’t you been out of the city? There’s a mandatory four-week vacation rule at the company.”

  “I know. I just prefer to do staycations.” Actually, she preferred to save face in front of her family, but Maurice didn’t need those details.