Two Weeks in Geneva

by Lydia Rowan

  He did the same and took a sip, letting the bold but approachable flavor of the wine wash over his tongue. He watched Quinn as she took her first tentative sip, her mouth adorably squished in anticipation of the taste. As she closed her lips around the rim of the glass and tilted the cup, she flinched and then her eyes widened, first in surprise and then with clear appreciation.

  “Umm. That’s amazing. It’s so flavorful and well, not…nasty like most of the wine I’ve drunk.”

  “Good. I’m glad you like it. And it’ll perfectly complement the food, which,” he looked up and noted the owner’s approach, “is on its way.”

  The waitress put down a loaf of French bread and a porcelain pot laden with chunks of meat, carrots, onions, and what looked like leeks or cabbage, all floating in clear broth. The smell that wafted from the concoction was wonderful as always, and his stomach growled in anticipation.

  “This isn’t what I’d imagined French food would look like.”

  “Yes. TV shows a lot of Parisian cuisine, but out in the countryside, it’s stews and meat, root vegetables. This is called pot-au-feu and it’s a staple in pretty much every French home,” he said as he scooped some of the stew into a bowl and then sliced the bread. “It has oxtails, a little marrow, and vegetables. No two are the same and every region, and household, has a unique version.”

  She blew on the still-steaming broth and took a swallow, closing her eyes at what he knew was the riot of flavors, the rich, tender meat contrasted with the crisp vegetables.

  “Well, its delicious,” she said as she took another bite, eager and unselfconsciously. “Your family’s from France, right?”

  “Yes. A northern province. I mentioned that my grandfather made bridges during the War?” She nodded her affirmation and he continued. “He decided to keep at it afterward. The business grew and he and my grandmother moved to Geneva to have a more continental reach.”

  “So which is home?”

  He paused to take a bite. “We talk about home, love our French food and wine, and have unshakeable faith in our abilities in romance,” he said the last in an exaggerated, affected accent and with the over-the-top lift of a brow that elicited the intended laugh, “but we’re Swiss through and through.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “My grandfather built some of the most innovative and interesting bridges and buildings in Europe. My father used to but now, we may as well be bankers. There’s no creativity, no design, no passion.”

  He knew his voice was rising, but he didn’t care. It’d been too long since he’d had an opportunity or felt compelled to share his perspective, and Quinn’s warm brown eyes and easy smile made the chance too tempting to pass up.

  “That’s why I had to work with your company. Even in something as simple as your coffee-shop design, I saw that thoughtfulness, intelligence, and passion we’ve lost and now we have a chance to inject some fresh blood into my company.”

  She looked away and pursed her lips. “I don’t know if there’s much passion, Alexander. We try to make smart decisions and use whatever resources we have wisely, but I don’t think it goes beyond that.”

  “You don’t feel passion for your work?”

  She pushed away her bowl and took another sip of wine, clearly considering what he’d asked.

  “Honestly, no. I enjoy it, it’s challenging and engaging, and I’m good at it, but there’s no passion.” She paused and looked down. “I’m not sure that I’m passionate about anything.”

  Alexander didn’t believe it. Not for one second. He’d seen her too engaged, too angry, too happy, her eyes flashing with whatever emotion for that to be true.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  ••••

  Dinner was winding down; she and Alexander were among the last of the remaining patrons and he’d already paid the bill, but she found herself reluctant to leave. The deal was closed, and the reality of the end of this whirlwind was setting in. She’d done it, or at least helped and now, the company had its much-needed infusion of cash, a raft of interesting projects, and she’d proven her worth. And to top it off, she still had a little less than a week to explore. Originally, the idea had excited her, and while she looked forward to the downtime, she was honest enough to admit that it didn’t appeal as much as it had before.

  Alexander was the reason, and she couldn’t imagine what she’d find in the city that would compare to him. In a few short days, she’d come to appreciate his intelligence, wit, and unrelenting drive. His intensity had brought out the very best in her, pushed her mind in ways she hadn’t experienced before. And if she was being honest, the close proximity and long hours had only amplified the physical attraction she’d felt since the first day at the airport. The stir of arousal churned low in her belly, and she felt the evidence of it gather between her folds and spill over into her panties.

  She sighed, trying to ignore the low thrum in her womb and accept the truth of the matter: her time with him was over, and she needed to be professional about it. He was, without a doubt, the most vital, attractive man she’d ever met but he was a colleague, technically a superior now. She probably wouldn’t see him again; it was best to leave the fantasies in her head and enjoy the rest of her trip.

  Alone.

  Or maybe not. She hadn’t considered a fling, but it was something to think about. No man would compare to him, but other than that obvious and inescapable fact, why not? She had no idea if her race or stature would appeal to him or anyone else here, but she’d be open, and if a chance presented itself…

  She leaned back, excitement about the week renewed. She made a big show of yawning and gathering her belongings. But when she looked over at Alexander, his brown eyes burned with the intensity, different from the intensity that was a part of his business persona. And now it was directed at her, unreadable and inescapable in the small confines of the restaurant. She was certain she was the focus of that intense gaze. She felt exposed, flayed by it, felt like he could see inside her, knew what she’d just been thinking. The moment stretched, him seemingly uninterested in breaking their gazes and her unwilling to.

  And then he stood.

  After a brief second, she recomposed herself and stood as well, sticking out her hand, having decided she’d say good-bye to him here and avoid the potentially awkward walk back to the hotel.

  “It’s been a pleasure, Alexander. I appreciate your help and look forward to our companies having a long, valuable, and mutually beneficial relationship.”

  “I’ll walk you to the hotel,” he said, ignoring her proffered hand as he walked past her to say his good-byes to the owner. Hand still stupidly extended, she stood unmoving as he walked out of the restaurant’s doors. Not for the first time, she found herself scrambling after him.

  “You have to stop doing that,” she said when she joined him where he stood under the awning. “And it’s not necessary. I can get back fine.”

  “Nonsense,” he said as he walked off.

  Releasing a chuckle, she followed.

  They walked in companionable silence, and it dawned on Quinn that while they’d been together for many hours over a short period of time, she’d only scratched the surface of the man. She knew his determination, fierceness, his unwillingness to accept less than the best, and suspected that his confession regarding his hopes for MI weren’t something he usually shared but also suspected that there was so much more that hadn’t even been hinted at. And, of more pressing concern at the moment, she didn’t even know enough about him to make small talk, which meant she’d be left to her own thoughts. She figured she may as well focus on enjoying the walk.

  Night had fallen, and as they stood outside the restaurant, a burst of chilly wind hit her and made her shiver. He looked at her, seemingly noticing for the first time that she’d left her coat at the hotel this morning, certain she wouldn’t need it for the short walk to the building and back. He removed his suit jacket and draped it around her arms, his warmth and scent
still lingered in the fabric, enveloping her. Another shiver hit her, and this time, not from the cold. The streets were fairly busy given the late hour, and as they crossed one block to the next, Alexander kept his hand on the small of her back, the touch intimate but not inappropriate, creating a sense of security, protection, and heady arousal. When they reached another intersection, Alexander stopped abruptly and turned to look at her.

  She smiled up at him. “It’s this way, just down the block.”

  He stepped closer to her and reached her to cup her cheeks, gently tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs. Then he leaned down and captured her lips, his kiss firm, commanding, but oddly still gentle. At the contact, heat unfurled in her belly and she reached up to rest her hands on his broad shoulders and pressed her body against his, anxious to feel more of his flesh against hers. At her soft sigh, he swept his tongue into her mouth, and the touch was almost her undoing. The warmth, the decadent flavor of him, the rasp of his tongue against hers, sparked the heat inside her into an inferno and sent her blood racing through her body.

  And then, suddenly, he pulled back.

  Enraptured in the inferno he’d created and reluctant to let the feeling go, it took a moment for her to open her eyes. And when she did, the sight of his own burning with the same fire that heated her blood made her muscles contract at the anticipation of cradling him inside her.

  “Stay with me tonight, Quinn,” he said, his voice thick with arousal.

  Chapter Five

  She didn’t speak, just nodded her agreement, and almost instantly after, he wrapped an arm around her waist and had them headed in the direction opposite her hotel. As they walked, she didn’t notice anything but weight of his arm on her waist. Not the traffic, the cold, the others on the street. Her entire world had been reduced to him, his touch. Yes, he’d touched her before, had just kissed her senseless in fact, but this, his arm around her waist, casual as if he’d rested it there countless times before, was more intimate, more significant-seeming.

  No. She couldn’t think like that. As much as she wanted him, she needed to remember what this was. She’d be going back to her home, back to her real life without Alexander. So she’d take the pleasure she had no doubt he would give and that would be that.

  The thought fell away as Alexander whisked her into the lobby of a very well-appointed building and into the elevator, punching the button for the top floor. The joke about the penthouse suite that she’d been about to utter was cut off when Alexander pressed her close to him and looked deeply into her eyes, the brown of his languid eyes almost liquid with desire. Her knees weakened. Never, in all of her experience, had such wanton, unadulterated desire been directed at her. And never had she returned it as she knew she did now. He feathered his lips across hers, the touch a soft, fleeting whisper. And then he pulled back, held her in his arms until the elevator reached its destination.

  She was close, so close to having him that she squirmed with her arousal as they walked down the hall, the lush carpeting muffling their steps, to the door directly across from the elevators. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, the subtle tremor of his hand the only outward indication that he felt even a hint of the desire that had swept over her. After opening the door, he extended his arm to indicate that she should enter. She hesitated as a creep of doubt seeped into her mind. Not about him; she’d never wanted anyone more. But, somehow, she knew that being with him would mark her, change her in some elemental way. One final look into his eyes, at the desire there, sealed her decision. This time with him would be worth any price.

  She crossed the threshold and her gaze was captured by the view. Her breath was taken by the large bank of windows that dominated the living space, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to the glass, her desire briefly banked by her eagerness to see the city from this height. But then she felt Alexander’s hands on her shoulders, sliding under his jacket and pulling it down, the fabric leaving a trail of goose bumps across her skin as it fell down her arms, and her attention was fully returned to the man behind her, him far more intriguing than anything she might see outside.

  He stood behind her, his front pressed to her back, the burgeoning hardness of his erection pulsing against her curve of her ass. She sighed at the feeling, unable to keep from pressing back into it, seeking much-closer contact. She laid her head against his chest, and he leaned down, the tickle of his warm breath against her neck followed by the soft brush of his lips against the sensitive skin there, drawing even more shivers. As he nipped at her neck, swiped the skin of her shoulder with his tongue, he squeezed his arms tighter around her waist, pressing her hips into his now-fully erect cock.

  He moaned at the contact of her ample flesh against his and seemed discontent with the teasing because he turned her to face him and brought his lips down on hers. There was no coaxing, no play. Alexander was demanding, commanding, fully in control of this kiss, and no doubt of her body. She was inflamed with the need to give it, opening her lips and grabbing at the fabric of his shirt in desperate supplication. She heard his chuckled exhale, felt the vibration of it against her chest, and then all she felt was him, his hands, everywhere seemingly all at once. As he kept her mouth captured in the furious kiss, he also briefly gripped her ass in the palms of his large hands before moving them up her back, only to move them back down again and around her waist, up her front, over the slope of her belly before he rested them on her breasts, cupping the full rise of her breasts, which filled his large hands to overflowing, testing their weight as he scraped his thumbs across her distended nipples, the sensation weakening her knees even through the fabric of her shirt and bra.

  Finally, when she warred between breaking the kiss because of the need for air or because his kiss alone was almost enough to make her come, he pulled away. His chest heaved with great panting breaths, and his eyes had a wild, untamed glint that was almost her undoing.

  He reached up and grabbed the edges of her shirt, and then he pulled them apart, sending buttons flying everywhere before she could react. She should have been shocked, should have found his behavior appalling, but couldn’t. To know that she’d sent this beautiful, powerful man to the brink made her feel more desired than anyone else had in her entire life. So desired that she didn’t care that she was wearing the least sexy underwear ever made, that her stomach was exposed, that he’d ruined her favorite shirt. No, all that mattered was him, more specifically, having him inside her, feeling him slam into her with that intent look in his eyes or seeing that same look below her as she rode him.

  She couldn’t wait. The slick lips of her sex and the deep fluttering in her womb wouldn’t let her. As she grabbed for the button on her trousers, he barked out a short, “No,” which stilled her hands. Soon, but not soon enough, he stood in front of her and reached up to circle her nipples through the thin satin of her bra, the taut peaks prominent and puckered to the point of pain. He leaned down and licked first one, then the other, the light pressure a mere fraction of what she wanted, no needed, to feel against her skin. As if reading her mind, he pulled the cups of her bra down, exposing the diamond-hard brown buds to his hungry gaze. He looked at them for a moment, then another, before taking one of the tips in his mouth, suckling hard as he traced the flesh with his tongue. He enclosed the other between his thumb and forefinger, alternately squeezing and rolling it, and the combined trill of sensations sent sparks of pleasure skittering down her spine. The muscles of her cunt contracted hard, reminding her again of the emptiness she so needed him to fill.

  “Alexander, I need more,” she managed to choke out around pleasured pants.

  He looked up at her, smiling around her flesh. He laughed and the warm puff of his breath on her flesh sent new explosion of vibrations careening through her. His now near-black eyes swirling with arousal, the intensity of his gaze mixed with the feel and image of his strong lean fingers working one breast as his mouth worked the other made her knees weaken, but he held her strong. Finally and mercifully, h
e gave her nipple one last tweak before sliding his hand down her abdomen, the glide of his fingers both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding.

  A fleeting worry about the roundness of her stomach, how she compared or more likely didn’t, to the women who no doubt offered themselves to Alexander entered her mind. And then left without further examination as he quickly opened her pants and slid them down along with her panties and slicked two fingers through the moisture gathered at her folds. She moaned as he continued his ministrations, stroking his fingers through her wetness, circling her clit. She arched and cried out, desperate to feel him pierce her, even if only with his fingers, but he refused, seemingly content to focus on teasing her into a rage and testing her limits.

  The orgasm hit without warning, flashing through her hard and scorching, more intense than any that had come before. She was powerless against the feeling, could only let it course through her and all the while he held her, arm around her waist as he continued to tease her slickened flesh, still not entering her but placing sweet kisses on her stomach and breasts between whispered endearments.

  When she came back to herself, she noticed that he’d dispensed of his clothes—when and how, she didn’t know and certainly didn’t care—and stood before her in all his naked glory. And glory it was. His body was a monument of male perfection, his broad shoulders leading to muscular arms, his heavily muscled chest coated with a layer of crisp black hair, his legs strong and powerful. His cock stood proudly at attention, thick, hard, the plum-shaped head almost purple and freely leaking precum, the veins of his shaft visible beneath the soft skin. He let her look her fill, and then stalked toward her, his slow, measured steps only serving to highlight the untamed heat in his eyes. Instinctively, she took a step back, but he reached for her, wrapped his arms around her waist again, and continued to walk forward, leaving her only the choice to walk backward. The scrape of his chest across her sensitive nipples, the heat and slickness of his cock as it rested against her soft belly made her sigh deep and heavy, the movement forcing his cock to glide against her, eliciting a moan from him.