by Julie Kriss
Come over.
Thirty-One
Aidan
* * *
For a second I stared at Samantha’s message as the traffic of Columbus Circle roared past me and New Yorkers bumped into me and cursed me. Then I quickly wrote Don’t change your mind and got myself a cab.
It took ten painful minutes to get to Hell’s Kitchen. I threw money at the driver and got out at Samantha’s building. I already knew where she lived, though I wouldn’t admit that I’d peeked at her HR file out of curiosity. I wanted to know about the real Samantha Riley, not the roles she played.
I wasn’t playing a role myself, not today. I was in jeans and a tee, a baseball cap on my head. I’d just spent an hour looking at Japanese art, because on Saturday morning that was the emptiest part of the Met. The crowds were looking at the Egyptian hieroglyphs and the suits of armor. The Japanese art was some of the most beautiful in the world, and almost no one was there.
I walked to the door of Samantha’s building and realized I was nervous. Fucking nervous. I didn’t have the suit or the office or any of the other shit I usually had. She’d seen me in jeans and a tee before, but that was when I was playing an airline pilot. Jesus, Aidan, you’re the CEO of a billion-dollar company. Get your shit together.
I typed in Samantha’s entry code. The concierge behind the desk in the lobby gave me a polite nod. When I was dressed like this, I didn’t get the extra attention a rich man got and I didn’t get kicked out of nice places, like I had when I was a teenager. I was accepted just about everywhere I went without a second glance, except sometimes from women. But I didn’t care about any women’s opinions right now. I only cared about Samantha’s.
I knocked at her apartment and she opened her door. She was wearing black yoga pants and a tee that fell to her hips, her dark blond hair in a ponytail. Her feet were bare. No makeup. She was fucking gorgeous, and all I wanted was to peel those clothes off her and get inside her, make her feel good. Make her feel what I felt. She was so responsive every time I touched her. The air between us was as thick as cream.
She bit her lip, hesitating, and I paused. “Samantha,” I said.
“Hi.” Her gaze swept down me, slowly, as if she couldn’t make herself hurry. Then it moved back up again, and her cheekbones flushed pink. “I, um, I don’t usually do this,” she said.
I leaned against the doorframe, pressing forward a little so I was edging inside. “Good.”
“You know what I mean.” She glanced behind her, the line of her neck effortlessly beautiful. “I’m not sure what exactly to do.”
“We’ve done this before,” I said.
“I know. But this time, it’s you.”
Those words hit me: This time, it’s you. I moved into the apartment and closed the door. I pressed her gently against the closed door and leaned my body into hers, feeling every curve of her. I heard her take a surprised breath.
“You’re right,” I said. “It’s me.” I leaned in and kissed her.
She made a sweet, tight sound in her throat and kissed me back, her arms moving around my neck. I opened her mouth and licked slowly into it, and she took my ball cap off and tossed it, her hands running through my hair. Then she tugged at my shirt.
I didn’t have to ask her what she wanted—she was telling me. So I pulled my shirt off and tossed it after my hat, then pressed her into the door again. Her thighs went soft against mine and I rubbed my hardening cock against her through my jeans, feeling her legs part. Her hands ran down my shoulders and my back, and she sighed as I kissed her again.
I broke the kiss and explored the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the line of her neck, the tender skin behind her ear. She shivered and I pulled her shirt up, throwing it away and putting my mouth to her neck again. I knew this woman—I knew her familiar skin, the sounds she made when I touched her this way or that. I knew the taste of her and the way she pressed her hips against mine without conscious thought. But at the same time, I wanted to explore her. Our previous encounters had been fraught with tension, the air electric as we tried to figure each other out. Some of them had been achingly fast. Right now, I wanted to explore Samantha. I wanted to know every inch of her, learn what she liked when there were no questions and the clock wasn’t ticking. I wanted to know how to please her when it was just her and me.
She liked it when I kissed her neck. I grazed her lightly with my teeth, let my Saturday stubble rasp against her skin, then smoothed it with the tip of my tongue. She shook against me, her fingers curling into me, her breath going short. I touched her nipple through the fabric of her bra, then pulled the strap down and touched the bare skin, brushing over it again and again. She moaned.
She hooked one knee around my hip, and then her other knee over the other, giving me full access to the heat between her legs. I took my cue and lifted her, pinning her to the door, rubbing my cock a little roughly into her through the denim. The friction was harsh and her fingers dug into my shoulders again, this time with her short nails digging into my skin. The sting of it was a pleasant shock and I rubbed into her again, making her hips press back against the door. Even through layers of clothes my cock was aching, the root throbbing, the tip throbbing inside my jeans. I lowered my hands to the perfect curves of her ass and held her up.
I could come like this. Just like this, like a teenager on a second date with the girl he’s been after, unable to believe she was kissing him back. Samantha was gripping me, her heels digging into the backs of my thighs as she sighed against me. The combination of soft and bold was intoxicating. I knew by instinct that she had never been like this with other men. She’d never let herself—not until we started the game. She was only like this with me.
“More,” she said as I sucked gently on her neck. “Aidan, can we…”
“Yes, we fucking can.” I unhooked her knees and slipped her yoga pants and panties off, tossing them away. When I stood again she’d unhooked her bra and dropped it and she stood there perfectly naked. She looked at me, swallowed, and reached for the buttons of my jeans, fumbling with them.
Kicking my shoes off, I helped her. Our fingers tangled. We were definitely like teenagers now, and I realized I was going to be inside her bare. The idea made me crazy. Despite how cool I’d played it, I’d never fucked without a condom in my life. This was the right time to do it the first time. She was the right woman.
She was always the right woman.
When we were naked I pressed her against the door again, skin to skin. I let my hard length drag across her belly as I kissed her again, tasting her soft mouth. I was oversensitized, and every time she moved or breathed I felt it everywhere, like electricity.
Reluctantly, I pulled my mouth from hers. “We can do this however you want,” I said. Jesus, we hadn’t even made it into the apartment—some romantic I was. “The couch or the bed. Nice and slow or fast and rough. Whatever you want, Samantha.”
She reached up and pulled me down so I could smell her skin, damp now with a woman’s sweat and the smell of her need. “Aidan,” she said, “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck me against the door.”
This woman.
I smiled against her skin. “All right, then. Hold on.”
Thirty-Two
Samantha
* * *
Fuck. I’d finally said it. Not have sex, or make love, but fuck. I hadn’t just said it, I’d told Aidan to do it. To me. Against a door.
And he’d said yes.
He cupped my ass as I wrapped my legs around his hips. He held me easily and I wrapped my arms around the smooth, hard muscles of his shoulders. He braced me, his long, hard body moving easily, taking my weight. It should have been awkward, but we moved in sync. It should have been unromantic, but it was perfect. We fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Everything vanished—our real lives, who we were outside this apartment. Our jobs, our pasts. Even the game vanished right now, as I hooked my ankles together and opened to him and he slid into me.
He swallowed my gasp with a kiss. I was drenched, and he was slick inside me, bare. It felt so good. I was familiar with the feel of him, the push of him inside me, but skin to skin was different. I’d never done this with anyone before.
He pushed into me, then moved a little harder, using the resistance of the door behind me and his weight. He was deeper than he’d ever been, and the angle opened me completely. I was pinned, and at the same time I was gripping him, squeezing him, just as active as he was. I hooked my arms around his neck and felt him take me, and at the same time I felt myself take him. Again, and then again, and then again.
“Fuck, Samantha,” Aidan said against my neck, his voice rough. “Tell me you feel that.”
“Yes.” I could barely form even that one small word, my mind was so scrambled, my blood so wild. “Yes.”
His arms were like granite, his legs long and strong as he pushed into me, the muscles of his back working as his hips moved. The friction was so intense I felt like the head of a matchstick being rubbed against sandpaper, every touch and movement rasping through my body, the tension unbearable. The way he was angled in me, the way he was moving in me, was making us both crazy, and it was happening fast. I’d always orgasmed fast once Aidan was inside me, but this time was going to set a record. I was going to come.
He said my name again, and then some wild and filthy curse words that made my blood run even hotter. He was as lost as I was. We were both abandoned, up against my apartment door, probably making noises the neighbors could hear. I didn’t care. I was about to come, and I was possessive. Everyone could know that this hot, gorgeous man was all mine.
He found my secret, most sensitive spot, the skin behind my ear, and when he dragged his teeth along it, still moving, I came, my nails digging into his skin. As I trembled through it he banged me harder, making the door shake, and then he gasped—the sound was hot and helpless—and came himself. I felt the pulse of it and a warm rush. Then we both stilled, out of breath and panting.
I could feel his sweat against my skin, his heart pounding against mine. I could feel every inch of myself, my whole body humming with pleasure. And I knew that I wanted this, exactly this, as much as I could get it, for as long as I could get it. At any price.
I was in love with Aidan Winters. I also worked for him.
And right now, I didn’t even care.
We did it right this time. He didn’t walk out, and neither did I. We cleaned up, talking a little, the air between us easy. We were still naked, and somehow we ended up in the bedroom, and then we were on my bed. And then we were doing it again, slow and easy this time, Aidan moving above me and then behind me as his hands moved over my skin. I explored him in turn, taking in his shoulders and his chest, the taut lines of his belly and his hips. After the frenzy against my door, we took our time. Aidan was in even less of a hurry than I was, bringing me to the edge of orgasm more than once before finally sending me over.
Afterward we lay lazily in the dim light, talking. He told me about his childhood, his teenage years living with his friends before they formed Tower VC. I talked about my own past, about my parents and my sister, my years working as an executive assistant. That brought us dangerously close to the topic of our working relationship.
Aidan was lying on his back, the sheet pulled carelessly to his waist, one arm crooked behind his head. He looked darkly beautiful, satisfied and relaxed, his hair mussed from sex. “We’ll work it out, Samantha,” he said, meeting the topic head-on in his Aidan way. “This doesn’t have to be an issue at work. I’ll make sure of it.”
I was lying on my side, watching him. I smiled. “Sleeping with my boss is pretty much the biggest issue there is,” I said. “There’s no way around it.”
He frowned. “We’ve managed it so far.”
We had, but only because of the game. Without the game, it was different. Everything was different. We both knew that.
“My job is important to me,” I said.
“I know,” Aidan replied.
“And at the same time, I don’t want to stop.”
“Me neither.”
I sighed, tracing my finger along one of his flexed biceps. Now that I had permission to touch him, I couldn’t quite stop. “So what’s the answer?”
“I have a few ideas. Let me work out the details.”
I felt a beat of panic. Everyone knew that sleeping with your boss never worked out—it was practically a Biblical rule. I could hear Emma’s disapproving lecture from here. If she found out about this, then I might even be fired from Executive Ranks, sister or not. And if Aidan and I were really going to do this, really going to date, then Emma would find out about it. So would everyone at Tower. So would the gossip websites. Which meant my whole life would change.
“What is it?” Aidan said. My hand had stopped moving, and he’d noticed my body tense.
I blinked at him. How serious were we? I hated to be that girl, but the stakes were high. Higher for me than for him. If I lost my job, I was unemployed. Aidan would always be the CEO of Tower VC, no matter who he was sleeping with.
Now he had turned his head and was looking at me with concern. “Talk to me, Samantha.”
“I just…” I wanted to take the leap of faith. I really did. But I’d come from nothing, and I’d built my life, and if it fell apart I wasn’t sure I could do it again. I didn’t even know if Aidan was in this with me if things got hard, or if this was just fun for him and he’d vanish when the difficult questions came up. But we had just had incredible sex—twice—without the game, and now wasn’t the time to bring all of this up. We had time to discuss it later. “I’m just not sure it’s possible to get the job and the guy,” I said. “It isn’t supposed to be possible.”
The lines between Aidan’s eyes smoothed, and he smiled at me. His usual cocky self. “Anything’s possible if I put my mind to it,” he said. “How do you think I got this far?”
Thirty-Three
Samantha
* * *
After Aidan left—he said he had a few things to do tonight—I dozed off. When I woke up, it was late afternoon. I showered, then ate, my body pleasantly hungry. I was also sore in a few spots, which felt good. As I was eating, a text came in from Aidan.
Forgot I promised to attend a benefit tonight. I’ll only go for an hour or two.
I wrote back, teasing: Do you have a date?
Aidan: You know I don’t. I never do.
Was that going to change? If we were officially an item, Aidan would take me to social events. I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready. Once the gossip sites got wind of me, they’d pick apart my life and my past. I had nothing I was ashamed of, but it was still disconcerting.
And he hadn’t asked me to attend with him tonight. He was right—I wouldn’t have gone. This thing, whatever it was, was only a few hours old, and I wasn’t ready to face a spotlight. But still, shouldn’t he have suggested it? What were we doing?
For a minute, I missed the game, with its rules and its scripts. The game made everything so easy. But no one could play a game forever—sooner or later, you had to be yourself, dealing with the problems of real life.
I tidied my place, washed dishes, laundered my sex-soaked sheets. Just a single girl’s quiet Saturday night, while her billionaire CEO maybe-boyfriend went to a multimillion-dollar benefit. At seven, my phone rang. It was Emma.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her when I answered.
“What does that mean?” Emma said.
“It means you’re calling me when you’re probably working, even though it’s Saturday night.”
“Tell me the truth,” Emma said. “Are you fucking Aidan Winters?”
I nearly dropped the phone. My fingers went numb and my throat closed. Was there a rumor already? “Why would you ask that?” I managed to ask.
“I just assumed,” my sister said in her businesslike way. “I know you have the hots for him, and he is extremely bangable. You’ve been in a relaxed mood lately. I assum
ed he was getting you off.”
My jaw was hanging open. I ignored her crudeness and said, “You guessed? And you were okay with it?”
“It isn’t protocol, but I was willing to let it slide. You’re both grownups, and like I say, there’s the bangable factor. You may be my paragon of a sister, but you’re still human.”
“I’m not a paragon,” I argued.
“Yes, you are. Which is part of the reason I didn’t call you on the Aidan thing. I wanted to see you take a chance, do something a little crazy for once. Plus orgasms with a hot guy. So what if he’s your boss? It’s everything you need in your life.”
“Okay, then,” I said. “Yes, I’m fucking him. And it’s more than that. We’re… I think we’re a thing.”
Emma swore. She had a sailor mouth, foul enough to make me blush. “I’m cutting his balls off,” she said when she was finished. “That’s it. They’re gone.”
“Emma, what are you talking about?”
“I’ll send it to you,” she said. “Then you can look for his remains in the Hudson River.” She hung up.
A second later, I got a text. Emma had sent a link, and the simple message: WTF?
I clicked the link. It was a gossip site. It had been posted an hour ago. The headline read, “Meet the woman who has finally landed New York’s most eligible bachelor!”
Beneath it was a photo of a woman getting out of a black SUV. She was wearing a strapless silver dress over her flawless body. From her looks she was obviously a model. The caption read: “Supermodel Angelica Barnes, who has just broken up with her rocker boyfriend, has found herself a new piece of arm candy for tonight’s benefit at the Guggenhiem. You go, Angie!”
Getting out of the car next to her, his hand on her elbow, dressed elegantly all in black, was Aidan.