Loving Tiago

by Shayne Ford

  “Well. It was nice meeting you,” she says before I rise to my feet and give her a hug.

  Tiago pulls up to his feet as she shakes her hand again.

  Noemi pulls away while we lower ourselves in our seats. We’re alone again when I talk.

  “Mystery solved. Now, I wonder why that dancer keeps staring at you.”

  “Same reason,” he says.

  “She thinks you’re James?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or perhaps, she’s heard the news. Knows that you’re her new boss.”

  “That too,” he says, laughing.

  “This is going to be hard.”

  “For you or me?”

  “For both of us,” I say jokingly.

  “You have no reason to believe that.”

  “True, but she doesn’t know.”

  “Do you want me to go talk to her?” he asks teasingly.

  “No. I’m good.”

  He observes me for a few moments.

  I move my gaze down.

  “Where would you like to spend the night?”

  “Somewhere where I can sleep with you in the same bed, without risking to get caught.”

  His answer comes instantly.

  “Let’s go then.”

  13

  EVE

  We check in a hotel an hour later.

  The place–– one of the newest boutique hotels, is located in a town over, and just because we bothered to travel further away doesn’t mean that James’ car hasn’t attracted attention.

  I have a feeling that Tiago’s doing it on purpose. I think both of us have reached the point where we had enough of hiding and although we are still not quite ready to spill out the truth, we’re doing it unconsciously.

  We check-in before he orders a bottle of champagne, strawberries dipped in chocolate, and snacks for our hotel room.

  It looks like a suite, in fact, with a large bedroom, a lavish bathroom, a round bed, white velvet draperies, and a fluffy matching rug.

  A table for two is set in a corner, a soft light glowing above it.

  He takes off his suit jacket and peels away his tie before he turns to me and runs his gaze down on me.

  I raise my hand.

  “Before you’re thinking about ripping my dress and panties, and making it impossible for me to get home,” I say, smiling. “Let me do this.”

  I bring my hand to the back of my neckline.

  Tenderly, he stops me.

  “I’ll do it.”

  He slides my hair to the side and over my shoulder before he pulls my zipper down to the top of my backside.

  I hold the front, stopping it from falling while waiting for him to release my dress when I feel his hands at the root of my spine, and his fingers splaying across the swell of my butt, then pushing down the waistband of my panties, and following the contour of my backside before sliding them around my sides, pushing the front of my underwear down and touching the apex of my thighs.

  He palms my sex, and pulls me into him, my rear crashing against his groin.

  Hard in his suit pants, he presses his erection against my lower back, his free hand migrating up, and cupping a breast.

  “I’d love to fuck you with your dress on,” he says quietly as he strokes my sex, and kneads my chest, his hard cock propped against my lower back.

  He takes his hand away from me only for a moment, slides his zipper down and yanks my skirt up before he tugs my stockings and my panties to my thighs.

  I feel the air rolling on my skin.

  He angles my hips just so and positions the tip of his erection between my legs.

  “Now...” he murmurs, “I want to feel you clenching around me.”

  His hands go back to where they were before, one rubbing my clit, the other kneading my chest while I start to roll my hips, drawing little circles, stroking his crown.

  By the time he slides into me, I’m dripping wet, and neither of us cares about my dress.

  My grip on it slackens as I feel my way around, looking for something to prop myself against.

  I clutch the back of an armchair and curl my hands around the plush edge, my dress barely clinging to me, my skirt still bunched up, my legs tense, as he spreads them even more and pushes his hard length into me.

  I shudder at the mere feel of him inside me.

  It’s been too long.

  “Do you feel it?” I murmur.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he mutters in my hair, pacing himself while trying to hold both of us back, but the slower he goes, the deeper he goes, and my body responds with more longing, brewing more tension, the pull inside my belly becoming deliciously stronger.

  He slides through my wet arousal, hitting every spot inside me right. With one arm, he supports my body, with his free hand stroking my sex.

  I pulse beneath his touch, although he barely touches me, purposely so, I guess, to make me teeter on the edge a little longer.

  “I don’t think it’s working,” I say.

  He knows exactly what I mean.

  “Don’t worry. It will work later on,” he says, tension streaming through his voice.

  His fingers press deep into my hips as he grabs my sides and starts moving faster.

  I moan, scaling up fast.

  Being without him for so long is definitely a factor in how hot I am for him right now, and feeling him sliding into me, coated in my arousal, hard and throbbing makes it impossible for us to stop.

  He buries himself in me, deep, hard, and fast.

  My climax explodes, prolonged–– it’s not a quick spike. It’s intense and long, knocking the air out of me as he picks up the pace and rails me with ardor and passion, making me come with him this time, our bodies shuddering against each other, our breaths clipped and harsh, our groans, broken.

  “What the hell was that?” I mutter as I slacken in his arms.

  “Break-ups don’t do us any good.”

  “I can see that,” I say, laughing quietly. “What now?” I mumble, still catching my breath.

  “We take a shower, and then, I’m gonna make love to you.”

  I toss him a glance over my shoulder, aware that we haven’t even kissed.

  Minutes later, we take a shower together, and half an hour later, I slip under the covers, butt naked.

  He sets the bottle of champagne, the glasses and the plate filled with chocolate-dipped strawberries on the nightstand.

  My gaze follows him as he spins around, finds his suit jacket, and retrieves something from inside his pocket.

  He pivots to the bed, wearing nothing but a bath towel wrapped around his waist, his fist closed over whatever he has retrieved from his jacket.

  A small smile sits on his lips.

  One grows on mine too.

  “What is that?”

  He flicks his fingers, gesturing to me to push up to my knees.

  Naked, I prop myself on my knees, my hair draping over my shoulders, framing my face.

  I look at him, searching his eyes before I tip my gaze down and cup his fist with my hand. As I insist on seeing it, he opens it, and I spot a delicate, silver-tone necklace.

  The gift is a platinum custom made piece, and the pedant has our names encrusted on the back of it.

  I read our names. Eve and Tiago. Next to it, the date when we first met.

  “Tiago...” I gasp, lifting my eyes to him.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Of course I do... But...”

  He throws me a questioning look.

  “How am I supposed to wear it? It’s such a beautiful piece. People will ask me about it. They’ll want to touch it, feel it, and they’ll check the details of it. Rain. My mom. They’ll see our names linked together.”

  “They don’t need to. Besides, I’m hoping that we won’t need to hide for long,” he says as he brushes my hair away from my neck and clasps the ends of the necklace together.

  For the second time, or should I say the third time this evening, we’re doing things me
ant to blow our cover, as if we’ve both had enough and we’re taunting our fate.

  “It’s not wise,” I say, touching the pendant, looking at our name beautifully set in the precious metal.

  “I’m sure no one will notice.”

  “But why?” I ask in a quiet voice. “Why do you want me to wear such a beautiful piece and attract unwanted attention?”

  “Because it burdens me that it’s still a secret.”

  His hand comes to my face and with that simple, tender gesture, his fingers stroking me slowly, his lips curved into a faint grin and his eyes flickering with happiness, he makes me feel as if I’m the most important woman in the world for him, and the most loved one as well.

  He makes me forget everything I’ve been through until I met him, every heartache, self-doubt, and wasted moment.

  He morphed every bit of misery into a pearl of wisdom, giving it another meaning as he painted it with a different brush.

  He lowers his mouth and kisses me.

  His kiss never tasted better, his touch never felt more familiar, more like home.

  I close my eyes and let my fingers journey down to his hips. Smoothly, I remove his towel and grip his hardness before I start to stroke him, following the rhythm of his kiss.

  He slides his knee onto the mattress and holds me with his arm while we both lower ourselves until my back sinks into the pillow, and he buries his hard length between my legs.

  “Ahh...” I gasp as he rocks his hips and enters me completely. “Feels good.”

  He smiles against my skin as he runs his lips down my neck and kisses me slowly. My fingers dance in his hair, my legs locking around his waist.

  He slides a hand beneath my butt and keeps me sealed to his groin as he moves his hips back and forth, riding himself into me.

  “Isn’t it better?” he asks.

  “Yes, it is.”

  We both take that ride again, but it’s much more settled, calmer, the connection deeper, the pleasure building steadily this time with hot kisses and his thrusts.

  With his lips coming to mine.

  With his body pressing against mine.

  With his fire burning through my blood.

  We both reach a peak of pleasure and then experience the relief before we start all over again.

  Midnight finds us, lying in bed, sipping champagne and eating chocolate-dipped strawberries.

  “So what will happen after we tell them the truth?” I ask.

  He smiles.

  “I don’t know.”

  I wait for him to continue.

  “We’ll finally live together,” he says, picking up a strawberry from the plate.

  Bringing to my lips, he invites me to bite into the juicy fruit.

  I get half of it while he eats the rest of it.

  “How?” I ask, chewing slowly. “What I actually mean to say is, why are we looking for separate places to live if we’re going to live together anyway.”

  “That’s a very good question. Maybe, we should look for one place to live.”

  I swallow the piece of fruit and look at him, a bit puzzled. He leans to me and kisses my lips, getting a taste of dark chocolate.

  “Mmm... It’s good,” he says, trying to distract me.

  “What do you have in mind, Tiago?” I ask, bringing the conversation back on track.

  “I don’t know. We’ll see a few places this coming week. Maybe we’ll get something for you, and I’ll live in a hotel until things get settled.”

  I smile.

  “We?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  A secret grin sparks in his eyes.

  “We can’t do that. I have to have my own place.”

  “You sure will.”

  “And I have to pay for it. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  “The point is that we pick something that we both like, and I want to pay for it because I plan on living there with you.”

  I look at him, intrigued.

  Smiling.

  “You seem undeterred. You’re convinced things would happen just the way you’ve planned.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?

  “Because there are so many things that could go wrong.”

  “Like what?’

  Nothing seems to faze him.

  “Don’t you have faith in me?”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t believe in yourself then?”

  “You know, that’s not the case,” I say, tearing my gaze away from him and lifting my glass of champagne from the nightstand.

  He curls his hand around my wrist, stopping me from drinking.

  “What is it then?” he asks, no longer smiling.

  I search his eyes for a moment.

  “Do you have second thoughts?” he asks.

  Slowly, I shake my head, my hand journeying to his face.

  “How can you even ask me that after all this time?”

  “What is it, Eve?”

  “It sounds too... perfect,” I say after a moment. “But there are things that we don’t know. And the truth is, it would break my heart if what we plan right now would never happen.”

  “It will happen.”

  “What if...”

  “There is no if,” he says categorically.

  But we both know there are a lot of ifs.

  It all depends on how quickly he adjusts to his new work environment and learns from James. How dependable he is, and how efficient, and last but not least whether he likes it or not.

  Same goes for me.

  I may work in my field of choice, and I may strive to please the owner of the company, but even I need time to adjust and see if this is a good fit for me or not.

  Things are not that simple, but I sure want them to happen as he pictured them in his mind.

  “Okay, then... I was thinking about leasing one of those new apartments downtown. It’s no far from work, about half an hour from Red’s, and just about as much from the Casino, in case you choose to live in a hotel.”

  “Perfect.”

  “But you have to like it as well if you plan on sharing it with me.”

  He laughs, his dark-green eyes glinting.

  “Stop fretting, baby. Things will be fine.”

  He locks my eyes, waiting for me to agree.

  “If you say so.”

  “I know so,” he mutters, and then he gives me another kiss.

  I wish I had his confidence.

  EVE

  Three weeks later.

  “Have the techs adjusted the settings on your computer, Miss Malone?”

  I lift my gaze from my laptop.

  Sheila Lane smiles at me from the entryway, her hand curled around the doorknob, the door cracked open.

  She wears a light blue scarf loosely wrapped around her neck and her right shoulder, the pastel accent showcasing her tailored coral dress and gold-tone accents.

  Her hair and makeup are flawless, as always.

  She tips her gaze to my desk while she steps in, the door still open as I stare at her, soaking in the beauty of her features.

  It’s not only her physical appearance that grabs people’s attention, but it’s also her demeanor.

  Elegantly, she navigates the firm, making sure–- like now, that everything is in order, that people have everything that they need, that the day by day operations run smoothly, and the company functions like a well-oiled machine.

  She is, indeed, the linchpin of this company.

  Throughout the years, she worked as an executive secretary for whoever was at the helm of the company, and now, she manages the people who occupy the very same positions.

  Not only that.

  She’s been with the firm for so long, she knows every department and employee, and she is by far the most knowledgeable member of the personnel.

  She stops in front of my desk.

  “Yes. They have. Thank you,” I say, smiling.

  “How do you like working here so far?”

  She swings her
gaze around my office, taking in my tastefully styled workspace.

  It’s not a big room, but it has large windows, lush plants, a desk with a sleek glass top, an ergonomic chair, and the latest technology.

  “I love it,” I say enthusiastically.

  And it’s the truth.

  After spending my last few days in stress at my old job, this is a nice change of pace and a great environment.

  But I knew that.

  The people responsible for creating, and implementing the advertising campaigns for Sexton International, are either seasoned professionals like the woman who is about to retire at the end of the year or young people like me.

  No one steps on anyone’s toes, and everybody loves their job.

  “It’s a pleasure to come to work in the morning.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Sheila says. “You know today is the first quarter’s general meeting, and all departments have to attend.”

  “Yes, I know,” I say, a soft shudder flowing through me.

  Revved up, my pulse flutters through my wrists, a reminder that today Tiago Rossi would be in attendance.

  Not only him.

  The email blasted this morning, provided a list of names will all the attendees. All the partners are in.

  James Sexton will run the meeting. Lex, and Ed will be here as well. David Moore is back from overseas, and Blackmore, the hotel tycoon, apparently joins him.

  It’s a who’s who of the business world, some of the most powerful men in the state.

  “No need to worry,” she says in a soft, reassuring voice, her hand sliding onto my shoulder. “You’re doing well.”

  I shift my focus to her, telegraphing her a questioning look.

  “It’s not only an opinion. Your direct boss said that.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Smiling, she gestures delicately.

  “We all knew it, even before you started to work here. News travels fast in the advertising world. For someone as young as you are, you sure have built a reputation. That’s why we were so excited when James told us that you accepted his job offer.”

  Another privilege that Sheila enjoys is being on a first-name basis with James. No one else in the company can claim this privilege.

  Other than me, perhaps, but I never do it publicly.

  The sudden movement and sound of voices draw our eyes to the corridor.