‘Smashed, crushed, muddled woman.’ Dorian shook his head. ‘Hangover in a glass. Sorry about that. Don’t overdo it, all right?’
‘Maybe all the vegetables will rehydrate me.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ He tugged at my hemline. ‘Lovely dress.’
‘Thanks.’ We would have to have a conversation about how I cannot keep these clothes, I decided. It was just too much. Though I’d have to keep the LBD, as I’d pitted it out to the point of no return. ‘I mean, thank you. Like, all around thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me.’ He shrugged and moved closer. ‘Drop in the bucket.’
‘Erm.’ He slipped his hand back to the softness of my inner thigh. ‘Primary real estate. What’s that, Dorian?’
Instead of something annoying and snappy like ‘a house in the Berkshires’, he replied, ‘Just an expression. I used to wait tables.’
‘Yeah?’ I was intrigued. ‘Me, too. For about a week. I sucked.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘What, that I sucked?’
‘I’ve done a little of everything,’ he answered, sitting close enough that my hip was pressed against him. Dorian Holder had one tight, muscular bum.
‘Oh.’ I squirmed even more, wondering if I should touch him back, recollecting last night’s hardcore smooch, remembering our dirty phone call, the flirty emails … but felt about sixteen years old. Shy.
Speaking of sixteen, there was that weird thing about Dorian Holder’s timelessness: he looked younger to me as the evening progressed. He had the most striking profile I’d ever seen, the angular jaw line giving him a sophisticated edge. Although I’d thought he had a little streak of grey I must’ve imagined it, because Dorian’s hair was a deep auburn, except for a few sun-kissed streaks emphasised by the candlelight. His locks were thick and wavy and I so wanted to run my fingers through them. His lashes were long as his sister’s, and, when he wasn’t doing something quirky with his mouth, his lips were soft and full.
As though detecting my scrutiny, Dorian stared back. His eyes were brown with golden flecks. Gorgeous and piercing. Heavy brow, but not like Benton Worthy, chauffeur extraordinaire. Just a serious brow, which gave him a regal air. A couple of worry lines on his forehead. He smiled, and the crow’s feet I swear I saw at the meeting were no longer present. How very queer.
Also, that dimple. But just sometimes.
‘How old are you?’ I asked. ‘Please tell me.’
‘How old are you?’
‘You know that already.’
‘Here’s Michael. Quick, look over the menu and throw a dart.’
I pulled the thick, cream-coloured paper from his hand and tried desperately not to look at prices. I was used to places where there’s a dollar sign and decimal point, not just a simple number. How can an appetiser cost 26? ‘I can’t pronounce half this stuff, Dorian.’
‘I’ll help you.’
‘Given the Asian theme of the hotel, I was expecting sushi.’ Not that my Japanese pronunciation was any better.
‘Chef Boulud does French cooking like no other,’ he informed me. ‘I’ve been to his London and Toronto branches, and have been well pleased. But there are a few Italian dishes here, if you like, as well.’
‘Oh.’
‘Are you ready to order?’ our waiter, Michael, asked as he set down our drinks. ‘Our specials are –’
‘I’ll have the kobe beef, rare, with a side of –’ he looked over my shoulder ‘– portabello risotto, and the roasted asparagus.’
‘And for your salad? Our dressings are –’
‘I hate salad.’
‘Very good, sir. For the lady?’
‘The roasted Chateaubriand with pan jus.’ I glanced at Dorian, praying I just pronounced that correctly. ‘And house dressing for my salad.’
‘Excellent.’ He took our menus and vanished.
‘Why did you have to be such a dink about the salad, Dorian?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Never mind.’ I sipped my Smashed booze. ‘This is delicious. Do you want to try it?’
‘No.’ He took a swallow of his martini, sliding his hand further up my thigh, perhaps two inches from my panties. ‘I have an idea, Lily.’
‘Do you, now?’
The slow caress of his hand warmed me, and the heat scorched up those two inches, and my already tingly pussy moistened at his touch. His fingers were so close. So close.
‘It’s déclassé, to say the least. I would like them to wrap up our dinners and deliver them to the room. I’ll tear off every stitch of your clothing and watch you eat naked.’ He waited.
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Not a bit.’
‘Uhm, this is hardly a take-out, Dorian.’
‘“Uhm”, I am well aware, Lily.’
‘None of the rest of that is going to happen, either. At least not tonight.’
‘OK.’ He shrugged. ‘So, let us have dinner and go to the ballet, because Beatrice – whom you no longer despise – was so kind as to order the best tickets in the house. A little bird told me The Sleeping Beauty was your favourite.’
‘Jaz? What else did you two discuss?’
‘Or we can have dinner, hang around in our suite and see what happens.’
‘Our suite?’ I looked at him, and waited. ‘You mean, where my new closet full of clothes is? That place?’
‘No. That’s your room. In case you choose not to stay in the Oriental Suite. But you won’t choose that.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Really.’
‘You’re pretty cocky, Dorian Holder.’
‘Just realistic. Once you’re in my room, with me, and I’m seducing you, you won’t want to leave.’ His face was inscrutable. ‘Though you always have the option.’
‘Glad you find me so malleable.’
‘It’s nothing personal, Lily. As I stated yesterday, I tend to get what I want, and the odds are in my favour tonight.’ He massaged his way back down my thigh, kneading my muscles as he went, finally letting his hand rest on my knee as I went limp. ‘But, again, it’s entirely up to you, of course. I’d never force myself on a woman. Let’s face it, I don’t need to.’
God, he was arrogant. Yet I so wanted him to press his fingers against my inner thigh, again. But I stalwartly refused to show him my longing, and tried not to wiggle.
‘You know, not all women are the same.’
‘Of course, not all women are the same. That’s why I enjoy you all so much. I never know what I’m going to get, and I enjoy a good dose of crazy.’
‘I’m boringly sane.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Yup.’ I took another swallow. ‘And you should get your hand off my leg.’
‘But, as you insist, Lily, you are different.’ He looked perplexed. ‘For my own reasons, I need to know why you’ve turned my head. How you’re different, why you’re different.’
‘Why I’m different? Just told you: because we’re not the same. Women, I mean. That’s a generalisation, you’re a sexist pig and hands off.’
‘I prefer to think of myself as old-fashioned, not sexist.’ He smiled, showing off that dimple, and let go of my knee. ‘I’m known to hold doors, light cigarettes and help ladies into their jackets. Also, I pay for everything, so you need to get used to that.’
‘You think about yourself a lot, don’t you, Mr Holder?’
‘Well, of course. I’m my favourite person.’ He set his hands flat on the table, as though I were about to handcuff him, and leaned back.
‘What am I doing here?’ I wasn’t sure if I was asking myself or Dorian. I waved an arm, gesturing at the elegance surrounding me. ‘This is so not my life, Dorian.’
‘You’re making a series of irreversible choices, and you can’t help yourself, Lily. So, my plan is thus: I will figure you out, find the broken pieces, put you together and then watch you fall apart all over again. And you will love every moment of it, Ms Dewitt.’
‘Wow. You just said that.’
He lifted his chin.
Wow, that was one impressive jawline Dorian Holder, CEO had going on.
‘One thing remains exactly the same. Before dawn, I will fuck you. Ballet and brief conversation, then sex? Or shall we postpone, and you come to the suite with me now to see what unfolds over the next several hours?’
What do you say to that? His confidence, his arrogance. And that smirk. How to come up with a clever retort when you’re a dreadful mix of furious, intrigued and seriously horny? I took a breath, praying for the right words to come.
‘I’d love to go to the ballet with you, Dorian. But I don’t want to go to your suite or the room you reserved for me with the ton of garments which I never asked for. I’m heading home directly after the show. Thank you for the clothes, drinks, the amazing dinner we’re about to eat.’ I crossed my legs, very prim. ‘And thank you for reminding me why I’ve been choosing to remain single for however long.’
‘You’re most welcome.’ His eyes were merry.
Asshole.
‘So, if I gather correctly: you will have dinner with me, have Benton drive you home, think about what might have happened tonight, then we have a sexy phone call when you return to the Lily pad. And then you kick yourself, because you remember something like this …’ He slips his arm around me, runs his hand ever-so-gently up my ribs, barely grazing the side of my breast, hovering, then pulling away, just as I draw in a breath. ‘Or we could take our dinner to go, hang out together in a five-star suite, I’ll draw you a tub. We can enjoy some decent conversation, an old black-and-white, and not make a big thing about the fact that we’re attracted to each other. Then we fuck, and it’s amazing.’
I stared at Dorian Holder, noting how his expression belied his words. His face had morphed from rugged handsomeness to something far more gentle. Was it a tactic? Or was it real? Despite the coolness of his demeanour, I smelled something else; he was saying one thing, but disbelieving himself, and hoping I was too smitten to know the difference.
All bravado, but somewhere inside him was fear. Of what?
Of me?
He continued what had to be calculated technique. ‘Attraction happens, respect happens, imbalances of power happen, people get over it, walk away unscathed. So what kind of night do you want to have? Because, despite what I said earlier, I’m spending as little time in Boston as possible and, for whatever reasons, I want to spend as much of it as I can with you. There’s no need for drama. Just relax, and let the pieces fall where they may.’
He lifted his chin, and morphed back into Dorian Holder, CEO. Just like that.
‘Well?’
Before I could process what he was saying, or the strangeness of the Holder transmogrification that just happened before my eyes, I was on the defensive. ‘Yeah, well. I want a night where I can just enjoy dinner and a few drinks with a guy who distracts me, then go home to wonder what his deal is. And no, I would have no regrets.’
‘Like I said. Or, you could just skip the “go home to ponder” part of the story and let the night be what it will be. Should I prove to be as much of a schmuck as you have predicted, fair play. If I’m only half a schmuck? Well, Lily. Guess you missed the “T”.’ Dorian leaned back against the red leather cushions and smiled at me. I expected a smirk, but this was a genuine smile. Also, Dorian has just the slightest chip in his left front tooth, which he totally could have capped but hasn’t.
Adorbs.
‘What happened to your tooth?’
‘Broke it on a carousel ride when I was eight years old. Any more questions?’
‘Lots.’
‘Me, too. How about we up the stakes, Lily? Let’s play truth or dare.’
‘God, how old are you? Like, twelve?’
‘You’re quite hung up on this age thing, aren’t you?’
I shook my head, hoping the motion would clear my mind. My mind, which was starting to not feel like it didn’t belong to me any more. ‘If I were to say yes on hanging out tonight, and no on Sleeping Beauty, would I regret it?’
‘That’s your call. But it’s not an either/or. I can get us the best seats to the ballet whenever you want over the next few weeks. And, remember, you have your own room downstairs, if you’d rather stay close, find your own space and meet me for breakfast.’ He paused. ‘There’s always your apartment, but I hoped a spa day and sleepover at a five-star hotel might be just the thing you needed. Perhaps I was wrong. When was the last time anyone spoiled you, Lily?’
‘Hmm.’ I stared at my Smashed Garden. ‘If you were to do a last-second charity donation of our tickets to Sleeping Beauty and take me another time, then –’ I gulp ‘– I would rather hang out with you and do absolutely nothing tonight, as long as you promise I will have zero regrets. Also, we are not going to have sex. Maybe we’ll mess around, that’d be cool.’
‘You will have zero regrets, I promise. Eventually, of course, you will, but tomorrow you won’t. And we will “mess around”, as you put it. But we will also have amazing sex. I mess around, but not so much.’ He tapped his long index finger on the table. ‘How about upping the stakes? You’ll beg me to fuck you before the sun rises.’
‘We won’t have sex, and I won’t beg for anything.’ I laughed, nervous. ‘You’re unbelievable. But, yes. I’m in for a long, flirty visit with a few dirty parts. Then I go sleep in the amazing room you’ve rented me.’
‘Fair play.’
‘And I want to eat here. In the restaurant. Like a lady.’
‘Absolutely. But only if I get to kiss your earlobe.’
‘What? Why?’
‘That’s a yes, then?’
‘I suppose, yeah.’
‘Lovely.’ Dorian tugged slightly at my hair, then tucked a stray curl behind my ear. He touched my cheek, and I met his wolf-like eyes. Damn, Dorian Holder was scary kinds of sexy. I hoped he couldn’t see how I was trembling. He smiled, a sweet smile, leaned in closer, let out a soft breath in my ear and licked the lobe softly, tracing his tongue around my new platinum hoop earring. I quivered as he nibbled, and closed my eyes as he sucked. He lowered his lips to my neck and kissed me once, twice.
An ‘Ahem’ interrupted us, and my eyes popped open.
That waiter, Michael? Deserved a punch in the nose. I mean, really.
‘Thank you,’ Dorian said, as Michael placed two more drinks in front of us. Was Dorian thanking the server or thanking me for letting him take my breath away?
As our waiter retreated, I sighed.
‘Lily? How do you feel?’
‘This doesn’t suck.’
‘I’ll take that.’ His mouth curved. ‘You sure you don’t want me to have him box up our dinner?’
‘Quite.’
‘Well, then.’ He lifted his martini. ‘Cheers, Lily.’
I raised my drink, and when we clinked our glasses together there was the most perfect crystal ring, which reminded me of last night.
Crystal, but so unclear, all of it.
Who was Dorian Holder?
He stared at me, hard, as we drank. His gaze was unnerving, hypnotic. Scintillating.
Dorian was right. I was under his power.
And he had only just begun.
We had only just begun?
Cheers.
Chapter Eight
Run, Baby Run
‘Next time, I’m so getting the kobe beef,’ I declared, wobbling on one leg like a clumsy stork. I yanked off one of the vicious Louboutins and dropped it to the floor.
‘Since you ate half of mine, I don’t know what you’re complaining about, Lily.’
‘I was hungry,’ I explained, embarrassed. Something told me the ladies he dated weren’t familiar with being ravenous and loving food. Or they did a good job pretending not to.
‘That’s a thing. Most women pick at their dinner. It’s so unattractive … not to mention a waste of a perfectly good meal. Women with appetites are hot.’ Dorian glanced up at me, just as I
stopped myself falling by gripping one of the bedposts. Oh, yes, it was a big, beautiful four-poster bed.
‘You look so natural swinging around that pole, Lily.’ He grinned. ‘That’s a compliment, by the way.’
‘Yeah, well.’ I swung around it, sat on the bed and kicked off my other shoe. Since Dorian had no idea he’d hit a nerve, I just smiled back. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Mr Holder.’
‘Colour me intrigued.’
Charged with the adrenalin of horniness – not to mention my system trying desperately to break down the alcohol I had consumed – I bounced off the bed, landing solidly on the floor. ‘Oh, thank God. Oh, carpet.’
Dorian pulled his black cashmere sweater over his head and tossed it on the overstuffed chair. What I would have given to own that. I would read and fall asleep in it every night.
I meant the chair, not his sweater. But I’d have worn that to bed and fallen asleep in it, as well.
Dorian had worn only a fitted black T-shirt under his sweater, and my mouth dropped open. Literally. I had to snap it shut in case I started to drool. He was even cuter with messy hair, which one wouldn’t have believed possible. God, what would he look like naked? I wondered. The man was built like a model, sans that whole gay vibe. Obviously. In fact, why wasn’t he a model? He totally should pose for Apollyon ads. I might have suggested that if I’d had my wits about me.
But instead, here’s what I had to say for myself.
‘I never realised how much one could love a good rug.’
Lame, Lily. And like he’s ever going to talk to me about all my brilliant new ideas. All we did during dinner was flirt shamelessly and get even hornier.
‘Especially when it’s a Fereghan,’ he replied, as though that would mean anything to me.
If I were going to cling to my vow that I would not give it all up tonight to this guy, we would have to get to the living room, and quickly. ‘Hey, you want to give me the grand tour?’
Dorian looked me up and down, still appreciating my awesome new LBD, I suppose, but narrowed his eyes when they reached my feet. ‘Did I tell you that you could take off your shoes, Lily? All through dinner I’ve been looking forward to seeing you strutting around the room in those thigh-highs and stilettos. If you’re going to play footsies under the table with your spike heels, you might want to follow up. Why don’t you put them back on, grab that bedpost again and give a spin?’
Reaching Lily Page 11
