“Room 2017,” Leo said, handing me the room key and a Habibi Solar business card. “Take a taxi there by eleven. I’ll let them know to have someone waiting to send you up.”
“I appreciate it.” He wouldn’t let go of the card though.
“Sleep. Alright?” he said, finally handing it off.
“The hard part’s going to be not sleeping on the elevator ride up.”
Yet somehow, ten minutes later, I was texting Mira and Antoine my new view. It was amazing looking out on the Persian Gulf, with cars crawling like ants far below. No way I would spend my own money on a place like this, but it must be nothing to a guy like Deacon.
What must it be like to be a billionaire? To fly anywhere you saw fit, to have true mastery over the world? Maybe I
should
have flown here with Deacon.
But I wouldn’t be the master. Just the master’s pet.
I never once get this view,
Mira texted back.
And my family stops by there all the time on the way to India.
Why am I receiving texts from a sheik’s concubine?
Antoine asked.
I tried to snipe him back but thinking used up my last reserve of energy. I’d get him back at his birthday party on Saturday. I had all week to find the right words. Oh, and also a gift, probably.
I flopped back on the bed. One day, I’d be able to rent this place on my own. That’d be the real last laugh.
I passed out.
My alarm woke me on the dime, but after I showered and prepped, I was ten minutes behind schedule. I hurried down and got into one of the silver cabs out front.
The streets whizzed by beautiful as ever, but I scrambled through my presentation a couple more times. By the time I jolted into the lobby of the corporate tower with Habibi Solar, the lines were etched deep into my memory.
“Which floor?” I asked the guard.
“Thirteen,” a familiar voice boomed out behind me. “The Muslims don’t consider it unlucky. Of course they have their own superstitions to make up for it.”
I turned. Deacon strode up in his trademark reluctant formal: sharp blue sports coat, slick tan pants and slip on leather shoes. His smile glowed like the desert sun.
Oh god, that golden face was so hard to stay angry at. I felt a matching smile emerge on my lips. Better not look too long, or I’d get burnt.
“Leo sent
you
down for me?” I asked.
“You think I take orders from a redheaded doughboy like that?”
“Guess we’re just going to be fashionably late then.”
“Late, yes. Fashionable?” His slate eyes scoured my body as if I were wearing an evening gown and not a frumpy dark pantsuit. “That's a calmer word than how I’d describe what you have on, but sure.”
“Miss Martin?” A woman asked as she came over from side lobby. “Ah, Mr. Stone. Perfect. I am Hamida Al Darbi in Human Resources. I was asked to pick up both of you.”
She had a pretty oval face and straight features, but her hair was covered in a sheer checkered scarf. It looked pretty, but it didn’t seem like a simple fashion accessory. She was in one of the most advanced companies in the country, and she still had to hide a bit of her away from the world.
“You two can go up together?” she asked. “You are going to different places.”
“That’s no problem,” Deacon said. “We’ve gone down together, going up should be easier.”
“Oh.” Hamida looked confused. “Then, please come with me.”
Red with embarrassment, I followed. Having something to cover my face with suddenly didn’t sound that bad at all.
****
“Here’s to an amazing first week, guys and gals,” Leo said, holding up a shot glass. “Cheers!”
“Cheers!” Our little circle of sofas roared and tossed back the vodka in the glass. I gagged, but held my breath and swallowed the rest.
Warm night air gusted over us, even thirty stories up on the open rooftop bar. Around us, other couples, friends, and co-workers sat in their own squares or loitered by the railing watching the city twinkle for miles around.
“More shots?” Leo asked.
The team pounded the coffee table between us. I really wanted to pass. A couple more and I might end up tipping over the railing by the end of the night.
The bigger worry was about tipping over a more figurative line.
“Listen, guys,” Deacon boomed next to me. “I don’t want to hear the line item description of everything you’re drinking. Just keep the taps flowing until you can’t handle another drop.”
My team whopped and hollered. Yeah, Deacon down-in-the-dirt Stone liked to get cozy with the line workers. And now, that was us.
Deacon reclined and toasted me with an empty glass. “That means you too, sweetheart.” His voice rustled like the breeze.
He had left me on edge the whole week. He hadn’t done anything obvious: no hands on my shoulders, or toes tickling my thighs. But that still left plenty of room for lingering smiles, or pressing in near me during meetings, and shooting little comments here and there. Little things that made me remember all the ways he could cash in on what his swagger promised.
“I already can’t handle another drop,” I whispered back to him, eying my team nervously. Luckily they were taking Deacon’s advice deep to heart and focusing on getting plastered.
“You sure look like you can handle a bit more.” His eyes drifted over me like a fog.
“Are you saying I'm shaped like a barrel?” I said.
“Sure. In the sense that you’re still sitting tall.”
“As opposed to what?”
“Falling all over me.”
“Hah.” I glanced around nervously again. “Easy.”
It was advice for myself. A little flame was in me that hadn’t been there before.
He studied my look, probably reading everything. His hard, chiseled face seemed to sharpen in the moonlight, grow wicked as his lips tugged back into a smile.
“What did I tell you about not worrying about others?”
“Nothing I’m planning on listening to.”
“I know what you want, darlin'.” He leaned in, his deep voice scattering my very breath. “I’d give it to you if you’d just let me.”
This was too much. I grabbed my water and went off to an empty patch of railing to catch my breath. I was wrong, so wrong. That man was not something I could deal with. My father with his fire and brimstone had had less a hold on my mind than Deacon did.
Fear was not enough to hold back lust. No wonder people died having sex in horror movies.
The spires of downtown twinkled in the distance, but below a galaxy of smaller buildings dotted the streets. Houses full of families, not quite poor, but probably conservative compared to the rich.
Down there, the women might have to dress like woman in the airport. But up here, I could literally do anything. Drink, dance, sleep with anyone. Heck, despite the religious laws, apparently this country was full of prostitutes. I hadn’t asked Leo how he had figured this out.
Apparently, everyone was cutting loose here. Why shouldn’t I? It wasn’t so bad to sleep with a client.
I ran a hand through my hair. Was that the only thing holding me back anymore? Had I fallen so deeply under his spell that I couldn’t even hear him casting it anymore?
Someone settled into the railing at my side. Even if I hadn’t known who it would be, the spicy pine scent that mingled with the dust would be a tip off.
“Good call,” Deacon said. “Privacy is more comfortable.”
“Deacon, I told you I don’t want to mix pleasure and work. I thought you understood that.”
“I do.” Ice tinkled as he swirled his glass. “But I also realized that people like you and me don’t get off work much.”
“I’m flying back home tomorrow,” I said.
“Are you propositioning me for the weekend?”
I rolled my eyes at the heavens. “Can’t we just wait to explore this till the project is over?”
“You seemed less eager for space last weekend at the country club.”
“And it got you in trouble.” I turned to him. “See, it’s not safe for either of us.”
Deacon laughed so madly, that half the roof glanced at him. “Darlin’, don’t take it the wrong way but my mother and I have beef stretching back decades. You’re a bit player in that drama.”
“Still…”
“Still what, exactly?” He edged in until his elbow covered mine. “What is it that you fear happening here? I don’t think a few potential slights from your coworkers are all that’s holding you back from an enjoyable night. You do recall how well the last one went?”
I glanced up at his light sharp eyes. Would he understand what I was afraid of with him? I wasn’t even sure of the answer myself, anymore.
The longer I looked, the quicker the doubts vanished. The more his rich lips became the focus of my view.
And that sharp, powerful jaw shadowed with stubble.
Plus, his gorgeous cheeks.
His thick dark hair.
Suddenly, he dipped his hand in water and splashed me.
“What the hell!” I squealed.
“You were looking at me too long.”
“And?”
“Thought this would make us look more like family friends.”
I sputtered and then started laughing. “You heard, too, huh? I guess accountants can be pretty blind at times.”
“Or pretty and blind.” His gaze fell nakedly on my breasts held back by my thin dark blouse. “Sorry, sexy as hell and blind.”
I took in the sight of his muscular form poised over the railing, vast and regal. He was more than just this amazing body.
But god, was it gorgeous. And what was he asking for? Not my life. Just another night.
One plus one equaled two. Two times with Deacon. I’d done second dates before, and they hadn’t led anywhere. I could stop after this one.
Or, at least, after this project.
“Fine,” I whispered, as if betraying myself.
“What?”
“Let’s get out of here.”
We looked at each other, just inches away. His smile shrank into a dim hunger.
“One by one, then?” he said.
I nodded and swayed off towards the elevator. I didn’t stop by our table. Let the others wonder where I went. The parts of me that the vodka had dulled came blaring back to crimson life.
I watched the blurred image of myself in the elevator doors. All the things that my body was about to receive came rushing back to me.
A minute later, Deacon came sauntering down the hall, long and slow.
“Told them the tab was open on everything up to the top shelf,” he said. “That should keep em' busy.”
The elevator came up, and when the doors opened, his hand cupped my rear and guided me in firmly.
I was under his control now.
And there was nothing I wanted more.
Sounds fine to me
, my brain said, and it checked out completely.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Deacon
I was a CEO. I was a strategist. I was disciplined and controlled.
Not a whiff of that mattered the second the hotel door clicked shut. Raw heat filled my body. I was finally getting the one thing I’d been aching to bury myself in.
Kiara stood before me like a sultry angel. Shadowy dark blouse, striped skirt, slick dark hair and silky skin shimmering in the moonlight as she backed away. The full windows twinkled at her back. ‘
I went hard seeing her eyes flare as she hit cold hard glass. Nowhere else to go.
“You'd have had more room if we got to the penthouse,” I said softly, shedding my jacket on my way to her.
“Well, you didn't seem like you could hold it that long,” she said, smiling and nervous.
Goddamn, did she know how much that demure act had me revving? Her defense just made crumbling it with my offense all the sweeter.
“Hold it for long?” I came up on her. “Honey, I've been holding this back for weeks.”
I sniffed longingly at the floral scent blossoming out of her very neck. She shivered. “You've been saving it for me?”
“Every last fucking drop.” I lunged at her lips but stopped a flick of the tongue away. “You sure you can take it all?”
Her brown eyes trembled at mine. Our future was written plain in my vision.
“Give me everything,” she whispered.
I pressed into her, hard and fast, my kiss driving her scraping up the glass. Her lips lay stunned against mine. I parted them with my tongue, entered her mouth brusquely. I wanted in her, completely and as soon as goddamn possible.
Her soft, lush body yielded to my invasion, her lips moving, leaving a soft moan as she surrendered. Good god, it was like a dinner bell. I laced an arm around her plump little rear and propped her up against my mouth. My fingers slipped up her skirt, kneading her flesh through her sheer panties.
“These sexy numbers aren't going to keep me away, darlin” I sighed into her mouth.
“Tear them apart,” she groaned. “Tear me open.”