by S. M. West
We haven’t had sex since that night and I’m not going to lie, I want to. I can’t wait to have her beneath me, to be inside her, again. If not for Drew, we may never have crossed paths, but we fit perfectly. Yin and yang. Sex was never why I went to Montreal. It just happened, but I’m not going to lie—I don’t regret it.
Yes, it complicates things and it doesn’t help that we didn’t use protection. Never in my life have I been so careless. In many ways, I should have stuck to my original intention, keep everything platonic. But it’s too late for that. I’ve tasted her, had her and there’s no going back. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in running a business, life always screws your plans and if you’re to be successful, be prepared to roll with it.
“Hey, it’ll be a short flight.” I take her hand in mine. “I meant to ask, JP mentioned you’re taking self-defense classes?”
She nods and her cheeks pinken. “Yes, I want to be able to take care of myself and I said something in front of Walker and he gave me information to a class.”
Walker? I’m not surprised and oddly grateful he helped Paige. He’s a big proponent of women learning how to defend themselves. “That’s great.”
“Zach, what happened this weekend—”
My finger silences her, pressing into her soft lips. “It happened and I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“What does that even mean? We had sex and messed up our business arrangement.”
The stewardess interrupts with warm hand towels and I take one for each of us and instruct her to not interrupt again.
Paige’s cheeks flame and she snorts, shaking her head. “Great, this keeps getting better. Now she’s going to think we’re having sex.”
“And what if we were?” I hit the privacy button indicating to the entire crew we’re not to be disturbed. “They are paid to be discreet. Forget about the crew.” With our fingers interlaced, I bring her hand to my lips for a quick, gentle kiss. “Try not to over-complicate things.”
“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Shaking her head, she pulls her hand from mine, folding her arms over her chest. “And on top of all that, we didn’t use a condom.”
“I know. I’m clean. I get tested regularly and can show you the results.”
“I am, too, and I’ve had the shot. See, things are already complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You know what I mean. We were supposed to be business and we screwed that up.”
“Tell me you don’t feel our chemistry?” I brush back her shoulder-length waves and bury my nose in the curve of her neck.
“That’s…” Her breath catches. “Not the point…”
My lips kiss and my teeth nip at her silky flesh and she leans her head farther back, giving me better access.
“What about our arrangement? This weekend…” she trails off.
I lift my head and her brown eyes darken.
Fuck, she’s as turned on as I am. Heat flares in my stomach as if I’ve taken a shot of whiskey and it spreads through my body, tingling and sparking my nerve endings.
“Was phenomenal and we’re going to switch things up. We still have our business deal but more. Let’s explore this and see where it goes.”
“What does that mean? You get to have your cake and eat it, too?” She quirks a dark brow and purses her lips, but she doesn’t move away.
“No. We both get to have our cake and eat it.” I lick my lips, hungry for another taste of her.
Her dark eyes drop to my lips, urging me forward, and I take her by the nape of her neck, kissing her. What starts as a languid dip into her mouth quickly turns into a tango of tongues. Still attached at the lips, I slide to my knees and spread her legs, trailing my hands up her thighs.
“I thoroughly enjoy your dresses.”
“Sure, you like the easy access.” Her lips purse rebelliously.
“That, too.”
“Zach, are we really doing this?”
I don’t answer. There is only one answer. I kiss the inside of her knee and she shivers.
“What if someone comes in?”
“You see that little red light?” I point to a button above the doorway where a dark curtain is drawn and fastened along both sides. She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip. I caress the silky flesh of her inner thighs and her eyes are now as black as coffee.
“Well, we can’t be disturbed unless the plane is going down.”
“But we’ll be landing soon—”
“Not even when we land. The crew can exit the plane without having to bother us. I promise you; we won’t be interrupted.”
Her eyes now narrow, and she tilts her head to one side. “Have you done this before?”
“Would it matter?”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you deflected by answering a question with a question.” A faint smile touches her lips.
“Well, would it?”
She contemplates, studying my features as a few of my fingers slip inside her panties and brush against her smooth core.
Her voice wavers. “No, it wouldn’t.”
“Well, I haven’t done this before. I’ve used the do not disturb button for business calls and while I sleep, but not for sex.” I spread her legs wider. “Not yet anyway.”
In one fell swoop, I remove her panties and my mouth laps at her sex, sucking and licking at her swollen clit. It’s not long before she comes apart, panting and digging her fingers into the leather arms of the chair.
Picking her up from the seat, I carry her to the bar—the perfect height for my cock to enter her pussy—and our mouths meld as I breach her entrance. Her sweet, soft mouth and every curve of her body beg me to take her, worship her like she deserves. Silky heat wraps around me. Tight and pulsing.
She climbs and shatters in my arms, coming with a shudder and spasms, milking me hard as her teeth sink into my shoulder. I keep riding her, chasing the bite of pain with my own release as I empty into her.
Soon after, the plane lands and we remain seated until the crew leaves. She’s flushed and weak-kneed, hooking her arm with mine as we stand to leave.
“What’s behind that door?”
I glance over my shoulder, already aware of the door. “That’s the bedroom.”
Her eyes widen, glittering. “The bedroom? Why you—"
“Would you have preferred the bedroom?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“But why didn’t you tell me? Give me the option?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I wink, squeezing her arm. “I like having you on the edge.”
Twenty
Paige
The car swings into the circular driveway of Zach’s building and I turn to Nan. Her pale blue eyes like a cloudless sky stare at me. “Darling, Zachary tells me your stay is temporary.”
Random and unexpected, her comment leaves me mute. This is the first I’ve seen her since her return from Europe. We went to a Rothwell Foundation meeting and I’m so grateful she was with me. I’d been a nervous mess all day, unable to concentrate at work as I was consumed with thoughts of the impending meeting this evening.
I was the only agenda item tonight and I took the board through the budget for the gala as well as presented my proposal for a new charity. A cause that, while worthy and fitting, would be a departure from the foundation’s past. And now, with the anxiety-riddled evening behind me, Nan wants to drill me further about Zach and our fraudulent relationship.
“Paige, did you hear me?”
“Yes, sorry.” I shake my head, fidgeting on the leather. “Yes, it’s temporary.”
Grabbing hold of my hand, she smiles. It isn’t one of happiness but more like a schoolteacher about to impart words of wisdom. “Don’t be silly. Stay. He wants you with him.”
It’s been nearly three weeks since Montreal and things have been good between us. Really good. But I’m worried about how real things feel.
“We’re dating
but not living together serious.” I falter at the end because according to the world, we’ve officially slipped into coupledom.
Over the past few weeks, we’ve attended business and social events together, including visiting with my mom and Sam in between their many adventures and even a trip to New York City where we had drinks with Drew and Pippa. And in most cases, photographers furiously snapped pictures of us. Zach is a celebrity of sorts and I had no clue the media, or the public for that matter, cared so much about whom a billionaire was dating or shacking up with.
And while I’d like to say we’re doing an outstanding job of fooling everyone—social media, newspapers, and the gossip rags have us together as a happy couple—it’s more than that.
We are together.
Together in every way.
And I mean in every way.
Sex in Montreal wasn’t a one-off thing. As much as I’m trying desperately not to take us too seriously, trying not to believe our own hype, it’s hard.
We’re good together.
He’s good to me.
“My dear child, you’re delusional if you think you aren’t serious. I may have been away for a while, but I’ve seen the pictures of you two. And I watched my grandson at the board dinner when I first met you. He was beyond distracted.” She leans in closer, eyes boring into me.
“And Zachary isn’t easily distracted. Work has been at the center of his life for as long as I can remember.” She points her finger at me with a sly smirk. “You’re changing that and him. At the board dinner, he watched your every move.”
My heart does a strange pitter-patter as I think back to that night not too long ago. At the time, I barely knew him and now it feels like a lifetime ago. We’re in a completely different place, we’re much closer, and I never imagined it to be this way.
“And when we talk, he always mentions you without me ever having to ask.” She winks and for a split second I see her grandson. That familiar gesture causes a ripple to run through me and now, I’m seeing things in a different light. I wonder how much of what she’s saying has been planted by Zach. Is this his doing?
I’m no fool.
In very little time, he’s done a good job at getting his grandmother to believe we could be something. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made it a point of talking about me each and every time he’s spoken with her. What better way to make her think he’s head over heels in love with me? He wants her to think he’s lovestruck.
“That doesn’t mean anything.” I try to brush it off despite everything coming out of my mouth being contrary to Zach’s wishes and our deal.
Or to what I might want to be true.
Yet even to my own ears, I’m hard to believe and Nan isn’t buying it either. Her gaze drowns in skepticism. “Oh, I beg to differ. It means a hell of a lot. Zachary isn’t one to readily settle down and I worry that he never will.” She pauses, glancing out the darkly tinted car window.
“Rightly or wrongly, I’ve even tried to motivate him into thinking about or wanting to have a family of his own.” She turns to look at me. “Because one day, things will change—I won’t be here, and he’ll have no one. And I don’t want that for him. If I can stop that from happening in any way, shape, or form, I will.”
Uncomfortable doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. Did she stall his trust fund all these years because of her fear of him winding up alone?
“I don’t know what to say.” I won’t lie to her any more than I already have. “I like Zach. A lot. But we’re not at a stage where we should be living together permanently. I’m here for now but what the future holds is another thing altogether.”
If Zach were here, he’d be upset with my candid comment and try to refute my words, but I hate lying. I can’t lie to her or myself.
“I understand your relationship is still new, and all I ask is for you to give it a chance. With a woman like you at his side, Zachary is capable of anything. You’ll keep him grounded while encouraging him to soar.”
Out of nowhere, tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I blink back the unwanted emotion. The idea of a man being better or stronger with me—that my love and support could make such a difference—isn’t something I’ve ever thought about or even wanted until this sweet woman planted the idea in my mind. And worse yet, or maybe better, I could want that with Zach. I could want that for him.
“That’s kind of you to say.” I squeeze her hand. “Thank you for your support this evening. Having you there meant a lot.”
I’m glad she’s back and I feel horrible that the relationship with her grandson is a lie. I won’t let her believe I’m going to live with him forever. I can’t swallow that bitter pill, not even for the sake of this woman’s heart or Zach’s crazy deal.
“I did nothing. I’m thrilled I was back in time to see your presentation. I knew you’d be good at this. Good for the foundation. Well done.” She plants a light kiss on my cheek.
“Thank you.”
“Do you like what you do?”
Cocking my head to the side, I study her features in the dimly lit car, unable to discern her meaning. “My job?” I ask and she nods. “Sure, it’s okay.” Even as I say the words, my tone gives away how it’s only a job to me and nothing more.
“I want you to come work for the foundation. Be our director of strategy and development.”
“What? You can’t be serious. I wouldn’t know how to do that.” Not to mention I’d have to deal with the likes of Reagan and her kind on a regular basis. I could totally handle her, even though it does get exhausting.
“Yes, you would. You’re already doing some of what would be expected in the role and I’ve been wanting to step back a bit. I’m not getting any younger, but I hadn’t found the right person.”
“And I’m the right person?”
“Yes.” She pats my hand, staring expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“What if the gala is a huge bomb? Don’t you want to wait and see how things go first?”
“No, I’ve no doubt it’ll be a huge success—better than ever—and a lot of that has to do with you.” She smiles and leans toward me. “Think about it. You will do great things and build a memorable legacy for the Rothwell Foundation.”
I open my mouth ready to say something, feeling like I should say something, while what I’m not sure, but Nan keeps talking. “Give it some thought. You could wind down the jobs you have and start when you’re ready. Just don’t say no.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. Her confidence in me is endearing and also nerve-wracking. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve her unwavering belief in me, but it makes me want to prove her right. To quit my job and get to work on the foundation.
“Okay. I’ll think about it—and thank you for the offer. You’ve been more than generous.”
“No more than you deserve, my dear.”
“Good night, Nan.”
“Good night, darling.”
I get out of the car and a knot grows bigger and tighter in my stomach. I’ve got to stop overthinking our fake relationship and follow Zach’s lead. Not all relationships last. Ours will end but I don’t have to act like I know that. He’d say just enjoy it for what it is. And if I ignore Nan’s wishes and just look on the bright side, I’m having fun and that should be enough.
The job offer is flattering. Since Montreal, and with Nuit Étoilée fast approaching, I’ve made a lot of headway on the gala and enjoyed most of it. As tempting as the role is, if I take it I’ll run into Zach even when all of this is over and I’m not so sure I could handle that.
I drop most of my things on the floor as I exit the elevator. I’m too tired to trudge through the penthouse with my bags and not even my fake boyfriend’s distaste for my messiness will change my mind. Besides, I barely have a chance to clean up after myself. JP is a ninja, moving around the place cleaning and fulfilling my every whim undetected. It’s like staying in a five-star luxury hotel and sadly, I’m being spoiled and c
ould get used to it.
My shoes are next to go, tossed into a corner, and I release a wretched moan as my toes spring free from the stunning but torturous contraptions. Why do women do this to themselves? Forsake our comfort for beauty?
“Paige?” Zach saunters toward me in his suit sans jacket with the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up—mercy me. His look is tender and watchful, taking in all of me from head to toe.
“Hi.”
Now at my side, he slips his hand in the hollow of my waist while his lips brush my forehead. I melt into him and both his arms hold me close. “Exhausted?”
“Uh-huh. My feet throb. I’m ready to chop them off.”
“Why didn’t you call JP? He’d have arranged to bring you another pair of shoes.”
Good-looking, sexy, and smart. I don’t stand a chance. My lips twitch upward in a smile. Of course he has a simple and logical solution, something I’d never think of because I’m used to doing things for myself. I groan. “I should have called you and you’d have saved the day.”
I don’t generally stroke his ego—it’s big enough without my help—but I gotta give him credit where credit is due. He chuckles appreciatively, walking me farther into the place. “How was the meeting?”
“Fine. Don’t want to talk about it.” I bury my nose into his chest, breathing in his gloriously masculine scent. Instantly, I’m more relaxed.
“Hungry?”
“No. There was food at the meeting. I just want a bath and bed.”
“That can be arranged. Come.” We turn toward the stairs. “How about a foot massage?”
I stop to stare up at him as if he’s a god. Reverent and grateful. Inky curls hang over his forehead, no longer perfectly brushed back in place like they usually are. He looks younger. Boyish, yet still sexy.
“Is that even a question?”
“I believe it is. Let’s get you into a bath and I’ll rub your feet.”
My fingers curl into the fabric of his crisp shirt; I am weak-kneed and ready to weep. “Oh my God, I love you.”
