by Ivy Carter
“Good nap?” he asks, his expression impassive.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so long. I should have set an alarm. Are you working? Is there anything I can do to help?” I can hear myself babbling, but I’m powerless to stop myself.
He shakes his head. “Just going over some contracts. I’m at a good stopping point.” He shuts his laptop and stands to stretch, causing his shirt to rise up and reveal a few inches of tanned, taught skin and flat muscles of his lower abdomen that disappears at the button fly of his jeans.
I have to force my eyes away. “Oh. Okay,” I mumble.
“How about food. I was looking at the room service menu earlier.” He reaches for it and passes it to me. I begin flipping through, more as something to do that’s not ogling him. After a few minutes of silence, he says, “We can get something if you’d like.”
“Uh yeah, a lobster roll and fries would be great,” I say, passing the menu back to him.
I feel like such a hick. I imagine he’s used to more refined companionship.
He picks up the phone and calls down, ordering my lobster roll, steak frites for him (rare), and a slice of German chocolate cake for dessert. While he orders, I plop down on the couch and try to wrack my brain for things to say that will take the heat out of this situation for me.
Unfortunately, while I’m doing that, Levi appears to be working on turning the heat up.
By building a fire, that is. I watch him as he expertly arranges the logs from the brass canister next to the fireplace, stoking it with kindling and striking a match on the stone facade. Within minutes, the fire is roaring and filling the room with the delicious scent of wood smoke.
It couldn’t be more sexy if he chopped the wood himself. Shirtless. And sweating.
God, I am so screwed.
Levi takes a seat opposite me, watching the fire, which crackles and sparks in his eyes. After a few moments of silence, he turns to me.
“Have you ever been to the Cape before?”
I nod. “Just once, for a school field trip to Wellfleet,” I reply. “We mostly spent our summers at Carson Beach.”
He wrinkles his nose, and I can tell our neighborhood beach in Southie is not his idea of a luxurious beach day.
“Snob,” I say with a grin.
“Guilty,” he shrugs. “So was growing up in Southie like Good Will Hunting?”
“Probably about as much as going to Harvard was like Good Will Hunting,” I reply with a laugh.
“Fair enough. So why did you study studio art if you didn’t plan on being an artist?”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Why are you interrogating me like I’m on the witness stand?”
“That’s not the kind of law I practice.”
“Maybe you should.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Why do you want to know?” I ask, trying to keep up with the rat-a-tat-tat of our verbal sparring.
“Because we’re clearly going to be spending a lot of time together. Why not get to know one another.”
“Ok. Then why did you wait until the last minute to RSVP to your best friend’s wedding?”
Levi ducks his head with a little laugh that seems a bit forced. “Wow, going right for the jugular.”
“It’s no more personal than asking me about my hopes and dreams,” I say with a shrug.
“Ah, so the art thing is a hopes and dreams problem.”
“Not so much a problem as a confusion.”
“Meaning?”
“Jeez, you’re like a dog with a bone,” I say. I tuck my feet beneath me on the couch and get comfortable. “Art was something I was good at, but the further along I got in my degree, I realized I didn’t much enjoy it. I think I was mostly doing it to feel connected to my mother.”
“Oh?”
“She was an artist. A pretty accomplished one, actually. She’s got a piece in the MoMA in New York, and I think she might have gone on to be a really big deal if she hadn’t …” I trail off.
Even after all these years and barely knowing her to begin with, it still hurts to say the word. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, and I have to look down to keep them from falling. Because thinking about what my mother could have been, where she could have gone, what she could have done, hurts more than even thinking about the possibility of still having her in my life.
She was such a spark of life that got extinguished far too soon.
I finally look up and see the reflection of something in his eyes, something that takes a little bit of the pain away.
It’s understanding.
Because he knows what it’s like to lose your mom. And for him, it may have even been worse, because he got more time with his mom. All I have are fragments of memories, most sparked by photographs, but he actually knew her and then lost her. As hard is it is for me to think about my mother, it must be even harder for him. He looks like he wants to say something, but before he can open his mouth, there’s a knock at the door.
He clears his throat, giving his head a little shake. “Room service,” he says, pulling himself up from the couch.
He opens the door, and a steward wheels in a silver cart topped with fresh white linen and our silver-domed meals. While Levi tips the steward, I begin arranging dishes on the table by the window.
I’ve just finished placing the silverware when I turn around and crash into Levi as he walks towards the cart, a tall, lean wall of muscle. I begin to stumble backwards, but he grabs my arms to steady me, his hands transferring heat throughout my body.
I look up to see that this close, he’s nearly a head taller than me, his dark hair falling over his green eyes, which are locked on mine.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice husky and concerned sounding. He stares at me for a long moment and I’m suddenly panicking.
His eyes are so fixed on me, so unwavering, and the heat between my legs is suddenly so strong, that I feel like Levi might start to sense my desire for him.
And I’m afraid of what will happen if he realizes I have feelings for him.
“I’m fine,” I say, anxious and confused, pulling out of his grasp. “And you might want to watch where you’re going,” I add, my tone biting.
I don’t know why I snap at him—perhaps to distract him from how I really feel.
His eyes narrow. “Is that so?” he says.
The tone of his voice sounds a warning, but I ignore it. My own fears have ignited my inner brat.
“Yeah. That is so,” I huff. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Why I’m stuck in the same hotel room with my boss. This isn’t normal, you know.”
He laughs harshly. “And how exactly would you know what’s normal? Would it be from all of your three hours of real world work experience?”
I finally look at him again. “Nobody stays in the same hotel room as their boss unless…”
“Unless what?” he challenges, his eyes flashing.
I shut my mouth.
He sneers. “And it’s a suite, not a room.”
“Whatever. I just…I’m just trying to…advocate…” my mind spins and careens.
Levi steps towards me. “Say whatever you want to say but stop tip-toeing around it, Cadence.”
“I don’t know what I want to say.” I’m breathing heavily.
He steps closer. “Are you sure about that?” he asks, his eyes focused on me again, pinning me to the spot.
I want to say yes, or maybe no, but I can’t find my voice. It’s lost somewhere deep inside me, overtaken by the pounding of my heart and the shiver of my spine. Instead I nod, and then gaze back up at him.
It happens so fast. He ducks his head, I tilt my chin, and then his lips are on mine, warm and wanting. He parts my lips with his tongue, and I feel myself melt into him, my hips connecting with his as I fall forward. He grips me tighter, pulling me to him with a magnetic force.
One hand goes to my hair, pulling me closer by the nape of my neck, while the ot
her travels down to my hip, then the small of my back, until I can feel him hard between us, wanting me.
Wanting me.
I pull back. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Because I’m your boss,” he says.
“Actually…no.”
His brow wrinkles.
The one conversation I didn’t want to have. The one conversation I never imagined I’d have to, not with him. But here we are, and I can’t ignore it.
“I’m a virgin,” I say finally, shocked that I’m able to get the words out.
Levi takes a full step backwards. “Wait a moment. You’re…you’re what?”
I take a breath and steady myself to tell him again. “I’m a virgin,” I repeat, this time my voice loud and strong. “And I don’t plan on changing that until I meet the man I plan to spend the rest of my life with.”
He puts another foot of space between us, stepping backwards yet again. His eyes are everywhere but on me, and his normally olive skin suddenly looks ashen.
“I should probably get back to those contracts,” he says, reaching for his laptop, then stops to run his hands through his hair. He seems to be muttering to himself for a moment before finally speaking to me. “You know, I realize that it was a mistake to bring you on this trip. I don’t really need any assistance. I just have these contracts, and you can’t help with that. Maybe you should just …”
He trails off, so I finish for him. “You want me to go?”
“I think that would be for the best. I can call a car for you.”
I keep waiting for him to look at me. To see me, like he did earlier. But he’s all business. Cold. And he’s sending me away.
I feel like I’ve been slapped. Or dumped in a bathtub full of ice water.
I feel like a first class idiot. Not for telling him I’m a virgin, but for kissing him. Or even wanting to in the first place. How could I have been so stupid as to open that door, the one door that should have remained closed?
He’s my boss.
I’m shaking, but there’s nothing I can do, not if I want to keep the job. And I do. So I turn and head back into the bedroom to gather my things while he calls a car. But as I start to move, one step, then another, I begin to get angry. Then furious. Then whatever comes after furious that involves red-hot rage. And before I know what I’m doing, I turn back to him.
“You are a fucking idiot,” I say, shocked by how controlled my voice sounds, despite the fact that I’m almost as hurt and angry as I’ve ever been, at least in recent memory.
His head snaps up from his laptop. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re a fucking idiot. For kissing me in the first place, when I work for you. And for breaking it off just because I told you I wasn’t going to screw you. And then sending me away like I’m some misbehaving child. Which makes it abundantly clear that the only reason you brought me here in the first place was to get me in bed. Really classy, Mr. Maxon.”
“That’s not —“ he says, but I hold up a hand. I don’t even care if I lose this job anymore. I’m just saying what I feel, and damn the consequences.
“Ok, if it’s not like that, then what is it? Is it that being told no for once in your pathetic, privileged life is too much for you to take?”
His mouth gapes open like a fish on dry land, and I take pleasure in seeing this self-assured, strong man speechless before me.
“You’re a coward,” I say, practically spitting the words. “You’re a coward, and you’re missing out on something great just because I won’t sleep with you.”
And that’s when I know I’m done. My heart rate has slowed, my vision cleared, and I know that I’m right. I didn’t do anything wrong here. He’s the idiot, and he absolutely doesn’t deserve me.
LEVI
I watch her as she retreats towards the bedroom to gather her things.
Her words echo in my head. Is it that being told no for once in your pathetic, privilege life is too much for you to take?
Pathetic … privileged …
It’s everything I’ve always told myself I’m not. I’ve always been careful to work hard at everything. At school, at work, all to show that I deserve what I have. What I have coming to me.
And yet she’s absolutely right, only she has no idea just how much.
Because for once in my life, I was told no. I was told that my father didn’t choose me. He chose her. And that one time, that one fateful no, sent me into a spiral that wound up with me in this hotel room.
Being told off by a glorified secretary who is way smarter than I gave her credit for being.
Because the truth is, I knew my plan was wrong the moment she walked into my office. I knew I was becoming exactly the bastard I always thought my father was. The kind of bastard I always tried not to be.
But getting to know Cadence, being with her on the drive, talking with her, having her really see me and hear me and seem to know me … it wasn’t just that the plan was wrong, it’s that now I know I want her for real.
And when I kissed her, it wasn’t about the plan, or screwing over my father. It was about wanting her.
I’m falling for her.
It wasn’t until she told me that she was a virgin that I realized just how awful I’d been for even thinking I could do any of that to her.
And so I did what I always do. I took control of the situation. I handled it. I smoothed it over and made it go away.
Like I’m some kind of misbehaving child.
She’s exactly right. I am a fucking idiot. But not for the reasons she thinks.
I’m not sending her away because she said no to sleeping with me.
I’m sending her away because I can’t in good conscience carry on with my stupid plan anymore.
And yet, in the worst way, I do want to carry on.
But not because of my father’s fortune or his business or any of it.
I picture the fire in her eyes and the way she spoke to me and I’m suddenly more certain than I’ve ever been before in my life.
Suddenly I’m striding towards the bedroom, my body moving as if controlled by an outside force. I cross the floor in three steps, through the threshold in one. She’s standing over the bed trying to shove a toiletry kit back into her bag when I grab her by the wrist, tugging her slightly. She’s practically weightless, and delicate like a little bird.
Her eyes meet mine, and I pull her to me. She glares at me like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown, and I answer it with my lips.
I cover her mouth with mine. She gasps into me, parting her lips slightly so I can nip at her lower lip. I run my hands up her body until they’re tangled in her hair. I tug at her braid until her hair shakes free and loose. I want to consume her. To claim her. To do whatever she’ll let me do and nothing more. I want her to want more from me, not because I seduced her, but because she wants to give it all to me.
She seems to melt into me. Her fingers brush the back of my neck, and I duck to kiss a line along her jaw and down her neck.
“So maybe not such a fucking idiot after all,” she moans as I reach the spot just behind her ear that makes her whole body tense and then release.
“Someone convinced me, with an awful lot of volume, I might add, that I might be making a mistake,” I whisper into her neck.
She pulls back slightly, tilting my jaw with her finger until we’re eye-to-eye. “I’m still not going to sleep with you. I wasn’t kidding about being a virgin.”
“But why, exactly, are you still a virgin?” I ask.
“It’s not religious or anything. I just have always known I wanted to wait until I found the one.”
I can’t hide my shock. “Are you serious?”
She grins at me. “Yes. Life’s too short to have bad sex, and no sex is going to be as good as what I’ll have with the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, so why bother?”
“Said like someone who’s never had sex before.”
“Come on, you’re telling me
all the sex you’ve ever had has been fantastic?”
“Good enough not to skip it,” I say.
“Well I don’t really care to let some guy fumble around with my body, especially not some guy I see no future with. So I made a choice, and I plan to stick with it.”
“First of all, let me state for the record that I do not ‘fumble around’ with a woman’s body,” I say with a growl.
“Maybe I’ll fine out?” she says, arching an eyebrow. “There are plenty of other things we can do besides sex, after all.”
My mind floods with a thousand ideas and dirty images, and I barely suppress a groan as I feel my cock grow hard.
I hear in her voice another kind of challenge, and I hope she knows what door she’s opened, because I’m about to show her just what I can do with her body.
I start by fingering the hem of her sweater, then in one fluid motion, bring it up and over her head. And immediately see that she’s not wearing anything beneath it.
Now I can’t even suppress the groan as I take in the view of her perfect, full breasts.
Cadence bites her lower lip and trembles a little, but she doesn’t shy away from my gaze.
It so fucking hot, and I can’t wait to show her things about her body that she’s never felt or suspected she could feel before now.
I duck my head and take her pebbled nipple into my mouth and flicking my tongue gently across it.
Cadence gasps and then moans.
I continue sucking at her tender, sensitive nipple. She tastes better than I could have imagined and her skin is smooth as silk.
She heaves a sigh, her breast rising and falling in my mouth, as I take it in my hand and suck her nipple into my mouth and then release it, then suck it in again, running my teeth gently across it.
While I let my tongue focus on her breasts, I let my hand sweep down the side of her milky white skin until my fingers reach the top of her jeans.
I let them sweep just beneath the waistband before moving to make quick work of the button and zipper. But before I lower them, I place my palm flat on her abdomen and slide my hand down, beneath her jeans, beneath the lace of her panties, until the tips of my fingers reach their destination. I part her slit with my fingers and dip into the warmth and wetness of her.
