The Last Affair--A Hot Billionaire Workplace Romance

by A. C. Arthur

  CHAPTER NINE

  HAVING DINNER IN her room wasn’t running. It didn’t mean that she was in the midst of a situation she couldn’t control. But Kelli’s recognition of Maurice and them being seen together so much this weekend had her feeling cautious. When she’d suggested a quiet dinner tonight after last night’s interlude, Maurice hadn’t pushed the point.

  “You’re really not afraid of anything the media says, are you?”

  Maurice sat across from her at the small table by the window. He’d changed out of the gray polo shirt he’d been wearing earlier and now wore a black T-shirt that fit tightly against his muscled chest. She hadn’t expected him to go to his room before dinner and show up at her door with his duffel bag in one hand. His only comment before walking around her and into the room had been that it was pointless to keep going back and forth. He was right.

  After taking another swig from the bottled beer he’d ordered, he lowered it to the table and sat back in the chair. “I can’t control the media.”

  “But you can control what you feed them.” Why this was bothering her this weekend, when it hadn’t in the years that she’d known him, Desta had no clue. Maybe because now she was attached to him in more than a work capacity. Just like she’d been attached to Gordon. Once the media had learned of his injury they’d dogged him unmercifully and when his anger about being cut from the team began to spill over into brawls at the club and rumored affairs, she’d been looped right into the headlines.

  Maurice shrugged, lifted his hands up in exasperation and then let them fall to his lap. “What am I feeding them? Do I call or email them every day with a story?”

  His mood had been on the edge of agitation since the massage that had been meant to relax them. Part of that was probably her fault since she’d dropped the details of her messy past on him, but she hadn’t felt like dodging his questions about her family again. That was the first time she’d told anyone the truth about what had happened in Denver.

  “No. But every time you step out of your house, you know they’re watching you. Every date you pick up and take to a restaurant, a Broadway show, a Knicks game and then to a hotel, you know they’re right there taking notes. So basically, you’re giving them all this ammunition to write stories about you.”

  “And what would you suggest I do? Not go on dates? Stay locked up in my house?” He sucked in a breath, holding his lips together tightly before letting it out on a whoosh. “I learned a long time ago that I can’t control everything, that sometimes things just happen—and I adjusted my life accordingly. That’s the extent of any changing I plan to do for the sake of anyone else.” Dragging a hand down his face, he pushed back from the table and stood.

  This wasn’t how she’d meant for their dinner to go. It was the end of their fun, sex-filled weekend, after all. But something had changed, and if she wasn’t oblivious to that fact, she knew Maurice wasn’t, either.

  “You’re not the only one with painful stuff in your past.”

  His comment shocked her because she’d thought by walking away he was finished with the conversation. Desta turned in her seat and looked at him.

  “I guess college must have been the time to mess up, because that’s when I invited my girlfriend, India, out for a ride in my new car. She’d just graduated from high school, and I was home for the weekend. I figured it was a great time for us to celebrate.” He stood near the window with his back to her.

  “What happened when you went for a ride?” A sense of dread had already begun to lodge itself in the center of her chest, but she waited.

  “Long story very short,” he repeated her earlier words with a smirk, “I was speeding, and so was the eighteen-wheeler that came around that bend and smacked into us. I got twenty stitches for a gash in my leg, had a mild concussion and some bruised ribs. India was paralyzed from the waist down.”

  She gasped. “I didn’t know.” Sorrow for what he and India had gone through slammed into her.

  He turned slowly, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “How could you? It was before the press took an interest in me.” The partial smile and choked chuckle couldn’t hide how shaken he now appeared. “The bottom line is I could’ve not been speeding. I could’ve taken India to dinner and brought her right back home. The accident didn’t have to happen, and I own my part in it. It took me a long time to shake the guilt, but I own it now. And I swore I’d never put anyone else I cared about in danger that way again. So I don’t get involved past a few dates. I keep it casual, no emotions, no recriminations. If the media wants to continually use my choice as their headline, then that’s their business. I only deal with the things I can control.”

  Hadn’t she decided to do the same after walking away from Gordon? Only have dealings with other men on terms she could control, only focusing on doing her job well because she could order those steps as well.

  “We make a perfect couple.” The words were out before she considered them, which was unlike her. “I just mean that we both carry these loads from our pasts like backpacks.”

  “Not tonight...” he said softly. “Can we just drop those backpacks and leave them by the door for tonight?” As if in answer to his question, his cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced down at the screen before turning it off and tossing it onto the chair by the window. “Just for tonight, can we leave everything else behind?”

  Desta stood and crossed the room, closing the space between them. Reaching up, she touched her palm to his cheek and warmed all over when he turned slightly to press his lips against her skin. “We can have tonight,” she whispered because that’s what they both needed.

  Just one more night to be in each other’s arms in the way they wanted to, on the terms they’d created. It was what they both deserved.

  Stepping closer, she tilted her head until her lips touched his. Nothing else, just the touch of her lips to his as she stared at him and he stared at her for what felt like endless moments. When he touched her hair, pushed his fingers through the curls until he was clutching the back of her head and holding her to him, she whimpered. Not a favored sound coming from her, but a moment of relief, of letting go and giving in to this moment and all that she was feeling in it.

  “We were just coworkers,” she whispered as his other arm slipped around her waist. “Just friends.”

  “Not anymore,” he answered before thrusting his tongue into her mouth and dragging her into the swirl of emotions that had started to churn in the pit of her stomach.

  This kiss felt different from the others. His voice was different, the feel of his hands on her was...different. She laced her arms around his neck, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He was holding her so tightly, and she was leaning into every part of his embrace. Her legs would most assuredly give out if she didn’t lean on him, but she’d never leaned on anyone before. She’d decided not to give that part of herself again.

  Before that thought could take hold, he was easing his mouth away from hers, moving until he had her scooped up in his arms. She almost protested, almost told him he was being unnecessarily silly. But she remained silent, and he calmly walked her over to the couch and gently put her down like she was the most precious thing in the world. She knew they were entering new territory.

  “I’m gonna take your clothes off, slowly,” he said staring down at her.

  She didn’t know how to respond to that, and as it turned out, no response was necessary. He sat on the edge of the couch beside her, his fingers going to the buttons of the pale pink blouse she wore. Easing up from the couch so he could completely remove it seemed more sensual than anything she’d ever experienced before. It was the touch of his fingers on her skin—light, there and then gone, purposeful, not intentionally sexy but still erotic as hell. The rest of her clothes went in the same fashion as he moved methodically but not rushed, until she was lying naked on the couch, e
very part of her body—and she feared a part of her soul—open for his perusal.

  She watched him undress in the same way, with gradual and deliberate movements he had to know were torturing her at this very moment. “What are you doing?” He was naked now and had taken a condom from his wallet and set it on the back of the couch.

  “Adoring you.” She wasn’t expecting that reply nor the punch of something much more powerful than lust.

  The kisses came next and not just the fevered and sensual ones to her lips that she’d come to enjoy. No, his mouth was apparently on the same mission that he was, moving with unimaginable tenderness over every part of her body. Down the line of her neck to her shoulders, over her breasts where his breath whispered above each puckered nipple. Down, down, until she was breathless with arousal as his tongue moved masterfully over her tender flesh, dipping inside her just as her release exploded from her.

  Then he was over her, no words, no preamble, just the motion of his very toned body, his actions paused for the seconds it took him to tear into that condom package and smooth that latex over his thick length.

  “In me. Now.” Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Now. Please.”

  He obliged, lifting her legs and propping them onto his shoulders before angling his dick and driving into her with one smooth stroke.

  * * *

  She took his breath away.

  Everything about her, from the way she looked chewing her food at dinner tonight to the pensive gaze she’d had when she questioned him about his intentions toward the media and finally to that look of pure delight that washed over her face, flooding her cheeks with color the second he pushed into her.

  Now her eyes fluttered, naturally long lashes fanning out with each blink. The amber color of her eyes went darker with every stroke in and out of her. She was so responsive, her muscles tightening around his dick, pulling him in deeper and holding him there. Tongue snaking out the swipe over her lips before that sexy little whimper escaped from her throat.

  He’d been right about what he’d said a little while ago. There weren’t just friends or coworkers anymore. That ship had sailed, leaving behind this delicious connection that was draining him of every ounce of his resolve.

  “I won’t stop wanting you tomorrow.” The words tumbled free even as he turned his face to kiss her ankle, circled his hips and pumped deep into her again. “Or the next day or, dammit, even the next.” It was the simple truth.

  Coming here to this resort in search of the woman who’d intrigued him from the first moment she’d responded to his email had been the beginning of the end.

  “I know.” Her hands were moving over her breasts, gripping them, squeezing until her taut nipples poked between her fingers. “I won’t stop, either.”

  He didn’t want any of this to stop and so he kept moving, continued with the circular movement of his hips and buried himself and his emotions even further into her. His hands tightened on her ankles as he spread her legs apart. In and out of her, that’s all he could think about. The warmth, the wetness, the weightless feeling of falling. He accepted it all, holding onto it for dear life because for the first time in a really long time, that’s exactly what it felt like. After all this time, he was living when he was with her, alive, breathing, feeling, and only with her.

  She came again with a gasp before arching up off the couch, arms falling to her sides. It was a surreal sight to see pleasure take over her body so completely and to know that pleasure was wrapped up in him in what they’d shared not only this weekend but over the last three months of emails, and even before that in the years they’d been just friends and coworkers. That thought, coupled with the clench of her walls around his dick, pulled his release from him in a powerful surge that had him cursing and yelling her name.

  It was a long time before either of them returned to normal breathing. “This couch is terribly uncomfortable.”

  He agreed and eased out of her. “Sorry.” Standing now, he grabbed his underwear and was going to head to the bathroom when her words stopped him.

  “Don’t be.” She sat up and let her legs fall to the floor before standing. “There’s no need for either of us to be sorry about anything that’s happened. In our past or right now.”

  He really needed to get to the bathroom before he made a mess on this terribly uncomfortable couch, but he moved to her once more, leaning in to kiss her. “You’re absolutely right.”

  On his way to the bathroom, he glanced at the chair where he’d tossed his phone and cursed. He’d turned it off when he didn’t want to be bothered while they were together, but he never kept it off for long. For family and business purposes, he knew the value of being reachable. Grabbing it, he turned it on while he was walking but stopped upon seeing the multiple text messages and email notifications on the screen. He swiped the first one titled Urgent.

  “Is something wrong?” He looked up from the phone to see she’d already collected her clothes from around the couch and was holding them in a bunch in front of her. Probably waiting to get into the bathroom as well.

  “Uh, no, not wrong. Just surprising.” When he noticed the guarded look on her face, he added, “Riley’s getting married.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  One Week Later

  Gold Mansion

  “DON’T BE NERVOUS.”

  “Are you saying that for my benefit or yours?” Desta asked when they stood on the top brick step a few feet away from the double white doors of the Gold Mansion.

  Maurice smirked. “Don’t be funny.”

  Lifting a hand, she gave him a salute. “Yes, sir.” She hadn’t given the words or the action any thought, but the moment she saw concern flicker in his gaze, she chuckled. Nervously. Damn him. “I’ve been to Sunday dinner at your parents’ house before, Maurice. It’s silly to feel any type of way about being here now.”

  She’d been to lots of functions at this house. In the beginning, turning down invitations had seemed rude and quite possibly career suicide, so she’d attended one Sunday dinner and then a cocktail party, a cookout, Ron Gold’s sixtieth birthday party and eventually more Sunday dinners and poker nights. Before long, she’d begun to feel as comfortable around the Golds as if she were an adopted part of their family. So much so she’d recently chanced turning down some invites, claiming she had other plans. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to work tonight.

  “We hadn’t slept together all the times you’d been here before.” He was right about that.

  And they had been sleeping together—a lot—in the last week since returning to Manhattan. In fact, Maurice had stayed at her place three out of the past five nights. Her queen-size bed was no match for the king-size they’d slept in at the resort, but she’d kind of liked the feeling of him that close throughout the night. Exactly when they’d decided to continue whatever it was they were doing, she wasn’t sure. Neither of them had said anything definitive, nor had they stopped.

  “Well, there’s no sticker on my forehead saying we slept together, so if nobody asks that particular question, they’ll never know.” He arched a brow, and she sighed. “You’re not helping.”

  “It’s going to be fine. We’re not hiding anything.” When she shivered from the cold, he rubbed his gloved hands up and down her arms.

  He wore a black leather bomber jacket over a navy-blue sweater and turtleneck combo. His pants were dark gray, cuffed at the ankle, black leather loafers on his feet.

  What he’d just said made perfect sense; they hadn’t been trying to hide anything. The nervousness she’d had about them being seen together at the Finger Lakes hadn’t surfaced here because being together here could easily be connected to their jobs. From the time they’d returned after driving back from the Finger Lakes late Monday afternoon, until early Friday evening, they’d walked in and out of the office together more than they ever had before. They hadn’t offered any expla
nation, nor had anybody asked. But they’d never arrived at his parents’ house together. This affair they were having could backfire, and losing her job would be the consequence of acting on emotion and not common sense.

  “You’re worried about what they’ll say, too, aren’t you?” she asked.

  He frowned and, as if to quiet her discomfort, leaned forward to drop a light kiss on her lips. “It’s freezing out here. We’re going in.”

  But before he could turn his attention to the door, it opened. “I thought I saw your car.” Major stood just inside the foyer, a wide grin on his face. “Hey, Desta.”

  Her heart was beating frantically, but she managed to move like she was as unbothered as Maurice was, stepping toward his twin brother and walking inside. “Hey, Major. Nice jacket.”

  He wore a deep burgundy velvet sports coat over a black shirt and pants. Commenting on his outfit was what Desta would’ve done on any other occasion. Of all the Gold brothers, Major was the least interested in switching up his black, blue, gray and brown color palette, so whenever she saw him in other colors—which had come more and more after he’d met Nina—she was sure to notice.

  “Thanks. Nina picked it out. She said it’s festive.”

  Desta had walked past him and was removing her coat. When she turned back to face Major, he was brushing a hand down the front of the jacket.

  “It’s not Christmas yet,” Maurice added when he came into the house.

  Major closed the door and laughed. “You two teaming up on me? Wow, that’s cute.”

  Was it? Were they? Had Maurice told Major about them? In addition to being twins by birth, these two were thick as thieves in life. Maurice was insistent about not keeping their affair a secret, and she was on board with that decision, but had he hurried home to tell his twin about their weekend rendezvous?