Two Weeks in Geneva

by Lydia Rowan

  She reached the edge of the bed and he pushed her down to sit, bringing her face-to-face with his cock, its thick hardness beckoning her touch. Seemingly sensing her intent, Alexander stepped back, thwarting her.

  “Tsk. No time to play,” he said. “Lie back.”

  She obeyed without thinking, her desire for him overwhelming. She fell back, absently noting the softness of the mattress and the cool, smooth duvet on her overheated skin. The moisture that had gathered between her thighs shone under the light of the moon. That same light bathed the rest of the room, casting Alexander in shadows, but lighting him enough that she could see as he reached into his nightstand and retrieved a foil packet that he immediately ripped open and begin sliding over his cock. She envied the latex as it glided over his flesh, only to have her thoughts again scatter when he climbed atop the bed, stalking toward her like a predator seeking prey.

  She was more than willing to be captured and lest he have any doubt, she offered herself to him, spreading her legs in open invitation, frantic for his touch. He grabbed her thighs, spread them farther apart, and lined his cock up with her opening, which practically throbbed with desire. The first touch of his latex-covered flesh against her own made her cry out, but that contact was only a prelude. Without a moment’s delay, he found her opening and began a slow, steady intrusion. She moaned at the invasion and clutched at his shoulders, almost coming apart at the feel of him stretching her walls wide and breaching depths that were heretofore untouched. When he was fully seated, he held still for a moment and looked down at her, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, the movement jostling him inside her and rending a moan from her that he captured with his lips.

  Without warning, he pulled back and thrust into her, hard and deep, the friction of his cock moving against her clit sending her arousal into overdrive. He’d pulled her apart before, but this was a new level of pleasure, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out long. The feel of his breath on her ear, the tickle of his chest hair against her sensitive nipples, and the slight burn of her pussy as she stretched to accommodate his length and girth was too much. One final thrust, and she came apart in his arms, screaming her orgasm without shame or embarrassment.

  Yet he continued, thrusting relentlessly now, the muscles of his arms bulging with his efforts. She wanted to participate, touch him but she was helpless, caught between the remnants of her orgasm and the renewed pleasure he continued to give until he stilled, moaning his own pleasure, shivers racking his large frame. He collapsed on top of her, the tremors of his body reverberating into hers. He lay still, buried inside her for long moments after until he reached over and grabbed a tissue off the nightstand and discarded the condom.

  Goose bumps rose across her skin, and she felt strangely bereft at the loss of contact. But only for a moment because he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head into his shoulder.

  She closed her eyes and floated, warm, content, and safe in his embrace. She must have drifted off some time later; she didn’t know how long, but when she awoke, she had made her way out of his embrace. For some reason, she felt the need to flee, but knew she couldn’t without waking him. As she slid to the edge of the bed, his arm tightened around her and he whispered a groggy, “Stay.”

  Pleased by the invitation, no matter how casual or sleep-influenced it may have been, she snuggled against him and let sleep take her.

  Chapter Six

  Sunlight filtered through the blinds and hit Quinn’s eyelids, stirring her from the grip of sleep. There was no denying it; morning had officially come. She rolled over, burrowing in the soft, warm covers as memories of last night rushed to her mind. Deciding that maybe morning was a good time to make some new memories, she reached out to touch Alexander but found the bed was empty, dashing her plans for morning activity. The sting of disappointment at his absence was short-lived; she was content to stay in his bed lazing away as she tallied the number of times he’d made her come and tallied the number of aches in muscles she’d forgotten she had. Still, protocol was a little unclear in this situation. One-night stands were not entirely unfamiliar to her, but the late-night-college-hookup rules didn’t seem to appropriate for these circumstances. Should she sneak out, leave a note, or maybe go and talk to him like she was a rational, mature adult woman?

  Sneak out it is.

  As she stood, those aches she’d been counting creaked through her, but the subtle tinges weren’t painful. Rather, they reminded her of how thoroughly Alexander had loved her all the night long. A quick survey of the room conjured an image of the tattered shirt and discarded bra and panties that lay somewhere in his living room. That could present a problem, but she’d make do. She scrunched her shoulders in as if the action would somehow make her smaller, less naked, but her state of undress largely took a backseat as she walked toward the living room and got her first real look at Alexander’s apartment in the light of day.

  The light-colored hardwood floor and eggshell-colored paint gave the room an airy feel, like he lived in a cloud. A tastefully decorated, masculine, expensive cloud. But the main feature of the living room by far, was a vast bank of windows that spanned the entire length of the space. She remembered that they were in the penthouse, or close to it, because from this vantage, she could see what she imagined was the entire city, the mix of modern buildings and ancient-looking cathedrals and other stone building with the jagged peaks of mountains visible off in the distance.

  The view was positively breathtaking, seductive, and made her look forward to exploring the sights. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she imagined all the things she’d get to experience. She looked over and noticed her shirt, which was carelessly flung over the arm of one of his low couches. The fabric and the sudden chill on her skin was a reminder that she stood, naked, in front of uncurtained windows. The tint that covered the windows suggested that they provided at least some cover, but at this height, she doubted anyone on the street could see her and honestly, she didn’t know that she cared if they could. She laughed out loud and did a silly little dance, the giddiness of the view and residual effects of Alexander’s lovemaking.

  Speaking of which…

  She assumed Alexander lurked somewhere in the apartment, and the very thought of his presence sent a rush through her veins and set her off in search of him. The sight that greeted her when she made her way into the kitchen alcove tucked near the front door rivaled the mountains. Alexander stood at the counter, back turned to her, fiddling with a coffeemaker, his phone tucked into the crook of his shoulder. His back muscles flexed with his movements, the broad, smooth expanse of skin making her fingers tingle with the need to touch it. He was clad in black boxer briefs that emphasized the trim cut of his waist and his long, powerful legs. The melodic tones of his voice as he quietly murmured in French completed the picture, and she was so lulled by the sound and the image, she almost didn’t notice that he’d turned to face her, a sly smile on his mouth. His look left no doubt that he’d caught her ogling him, and he leaned against the counter as if daring her to look away.

  The almost primal glint in his eye called to her, and she felt her sex slicken and her nipples pebble. On instinct, she raised her arms to her breasts, partially to help shield herself from the exposed feeling his gaze created, but mostly because his gaze alone made her nipples unbearably taut, achy, and she hoped her touch, a poor substitute for his, would relieve at least some of the tension.

  His smile widened when she reached up, and she definitely understood the instinct. The man had seen more of her than her gynecologist, for God’s sake, and she supposed her halfhearted display of what could be construed as modesty warranted a laugh.

  He said a few final words into the phone and then hung up. After, he stood simply, looking and she couldn’t help but feel the heightened sexual tension in the air, zinging between them like electricity, making her squirm with arousal and almost compelling her to beg him for his
cock. She took another tack.

  “Good morning, Alexander. May I call you Alex?” she asked, hoping humor would ease some of the heat of the moment, allow her to regain some semblance of composure.

  “Not if you want an answer,” he said drolly, though he did flash a smile her way.

  “Uh, sorry to keep you. I know you must be busy,” she said a moment later, the heat of her arousal now somewhat tempered by how ridiculous she must look standing stark naked in this beautiful man’s kitchen. “I’ll get out of your hair. Uh, may I borrow a shirt?”

  “Please, Quinn, wait a moment,” he said, his voice deep and even as always but with the slightest hint of tentativeness as he stepped toward her and captured her hands in his, rubbing steady circles over the backs of them with his thumbs. “I hope I wasn’t too presumptuous, but I just told my assistant I am not to be disturbed under any circumstances. I want you to spend the next couple of days with me, let me show you the city. Will you?”

  The unfettered heat in his gaze made it clear that he wanted to show her more than the city, and she hoped he also planned to make her see stars again and again and again.

  Carpe diem, right, Quinn?

  She lowered her arms. “What’s for breakfast? Please say it’s you.”

  ••••

  Unable to resist, he folded Quinn into his arms, the warm weight of her skin on his, her chest pressed against him a welcome sensation.

  “For breakfast, we have gipfeli. You can have me for lunch.”

  Alexander joined her laughter, feeling the ball of nervousness that had settled in his stomach dissipate. He released her and went back to the counter, poured her a cup of coffee, and handed it to her, the eagerness in her eyes such a contrast to the pulsating desire that had fired her gaze mere moments ago. That ability to switch on a dime, to take such pleasure the small things, appealed to him. That and the fact that she now stood in his kitchen practically moaning into her coffee, seemingly unaware of the effect that having her naked and making sounds reminiscent of those that still rang in her ears after last night had on him. He decided to enjoy the show and took the opportunity to watch her while she was preoccupied, his gaze skipping over her, the fine bones of her shoulders, which were rounded much like the curve of her hips and her full thighs. Her raised arms left her full breasts exposed, and he recalled the weight of the teardrop-shaped flesh in his palms, the way her dusky-brown nipples puckered against his tongue, how sensitive they were, how just the right swipe would make her come apart. He felt his cock stir as he scrutinized her.

  He’d long ago sworn off love; he didn’t do relationships, but he knew that attraction, passion, was real and what he and Quinn had was off the charts. He couldn’t let her go after just one night.

  He slipped out of the kitchen and went to his bedroom to retrieve clothing. When he returned, she stood in front of the window, holding her cup, a wistful, longing look on her face.

  “They’re beautiful,” she said, gesturing toward the mountains.

  “Yes, these are the Jura Mountains. I picked this apartment because of the view,” he said as he came to stand beside her. “No matter how busy or mad or distracted I am, one look at those mountains, and I know that whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

  She nodded and then looked down at the bundle in his arms.

  “I thought you would need something to wear,” he said.

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “How considerate,” she said with a smile. “I thought I was going to have to go with the tattered look.” Then her smiled turned mischievous. And heated.

  “Should I apologize?” he asked.

  “Do you want to?”

  “No. It was a small price to pay. And your shirt sacrificed itself in service of a much greater good,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her, her breasts and soft stomach pressing against his chest, starting the beginning of a stir in his groin.

  She tilted up to kiss him, the taste of coffee and the flavor that was undeniably Quinn, something he was looking forward to exploring further, spread through his mouth. He was prepared to take her right here when the low grumble of her stomach rent the air and broke the spell. She stepped back and smiled, looking a bit sheepish.

  He stole one last kiss. “Breakfast before lunch.”

  They both chuckled.

  “As much as I’d love to have a granola bar and then get right to second meal, I think I need to go to the hotel and clean up. Do you mind if I meet you later?”

  Strangely, he was reluctant to let her go, but he didn’t want to come on too strong.

  “Sure. Why don’t you go grab anything you’ll need for the next couple of days and meet me back here? Then we’ll get you breakfast.”

  “Okay. An hour?”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Seven

  An hour later, Quinn stood in her hotel room, showered and almost ready to leave. She’d debated calling Verna, but had decided she wanted to keep this…thing with Alexander to herself. That dilemma put aside, she was now agonizing over what to wear, and the pickings were slim. Space had been her primary consideration when she’d originally packed, and the business suits and shirts and a couple of more casual outfits to fill potential downtime hadn’t left room for anything daring, flirty, or particularly sexy. Oh well, she’d have to make do. She finally decided on a pair of jeans that at least partially created the illusion that her legs had some negligible length and a bit of shape. She topped the jeans with a casual V-neck sweater whose cut flattered her cleavage and color complemented her skin tone. Fleetingly, she thought of all the sexy lingerie she’d left at home, lamenting the fact that she wouldn’t have the chance to have Alexander peel it off her.

  Now to address one last issue.

  What should she take back to his place? A small bag? Just a change of underwear? He’d asked her to come, but the idea of returning with a bag gave weight to things that she didn’t want to examine. And maybe she was misreading the situation, and his intentions with the exception of the airport affair, had been fairly straight up with her.

  What the hell. She’d take the whole suitcase. Besides, if things didn’t work out, she didn’t suppose her exit would be more or less embarrassing based on the size of her bag. And if they did work out, she’d hate to lose even a second with Alexander shuttling back and forth for clean clothes.

  Decision made, she hastily closed the bag, stuffing the jogging pants and sweatshirt he’d loaned her at the bottom—he was never getting those back—and began the walk back to Alexander’s. She’d welcomed the time by herself to decompress, but she was unexpectedly a bit anxious as she walked back. The passion between them last night couldn’t be denied, but things might look different to him in the light of day. For her, the taste of Alexander had only made her ravenous for more, and she could only hope he felt the same.

  When she arrived at his building, she realized she had no way to get in and no number to call him. As she considered the conundrum, the door opened and Alexander stood on the other side, a vision in jeans and a T-shirt, his worn leather jacket emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders and sculpted chest.

  “You’re late,” he said, a smile on his lips.

  A quick glance at her watch told her it had been an hour and ten minutes since she’d left and she laughed. “They weren’t kidding about Swiss efficiency, eh?”

  “Not at all,” he said as he led her inside. “Our timeliness is a point of national pride.”

  “Well, despite how it may appear, I’m usually on time and I do know how to go places and do things. I don’t often find myself standing in airports or on busy streets banking on the kindness of strangers.”

  “I don’t doubt you’re capable. And you won’t have to depend on strangers because you have me.” He punctuated the words with a kiss on her cheek, and she almost melted.

  She looked up into his eyes, at the heat and softness there, and thanked the gods for bringing him to her.

  “We�
�ll drop this off and get you breakfast.”

  She nodded and stood in the lobby while he deposited her bag and a few minutes later, they were off and headed down the street. To her surprise, Alexander laced his fingers through hers as they walked, and at her raised brow he said, “I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

  She thrilled at the contact, so simple and sweet, but representative of the thoughtfulness that she was learning was so much a part of Alexander, even when he was a hard ass. After they’d walked about three blocks, hands entwined the entire way, he stopped in front of a quaint-looking café. The chill in the air had chased the patrons inside, but Quinn could imagine a warm, sunny afternoon where crowds of beautiful people lazed the day away chatting and drinking coffee. As they entered, the smell of freshly baked pastries and fresh coffee hit her senses, and her stomach rumbled in reaction.

  “Wow, an authentic European bakery/café.”

  “Yes, why don’t you find us a seat and I’ll order breakfast.”

  “Sure.”

  She looked around the large, but still cozy-feeling space and settled on a table near the entrance yet far enough away that the breeze from the opening and closing door wouldn’t disturb them but that still provided a full view of the restaurant. As she waited for Alexander, having noted his light tone and easy smile as he casually chatted in French with the woman working the counter as well as the appreciative glances of other patrons, male and female alike, she again marveled at the whirlwind that had been this trip, marveled at the fact that she was here, preparing to have breakfast with a walking fantasy after a night of wild lovemaking.

  But still, she felt so conspicuous here among the sophisticated-seeming crowd. She was probably projecting. The outrageously attractive woman sitting across from her, sipping her coffee without a care in the world, might be stealing a few moments of alone time from a stressful day. Or maybe the wealthy man waiting at the counter was recovering from a broken heart. But if they had a care in the world, they both hid it damned well and on the outside, made her, with her casual dress and imperfect physique, feel that much more out of place, making her wonder what Alexander was doing with her.