by Chelle Bliss
Chapter Three
Twelve hours later, I stumble out of the office, completely exhausted. My head’s spinning from all the jargon and different scenarios we ran through for how to stop Cozza in its tracks.
I want a martini—scratch that, I need a martini. Probably more than one, if I’m being honest. The W Hotel’s just down the street and their bartender makes the best drinks in town. It’s my go-to place when I need to unwind after a long day, and it’s on my way home. The dark lighting and calming colors make it the perfect atmosphere to gather my thoughts and relax.
I place my order, shrug off my knee-length Michael Kors coat, and take a seat on a barstool, far from anyone who may want to chitchat. I watch the bartender mix the martini, waiting for my first sip while my mouth salivates and I take in my exhausted features in the mirror behind the bar.
Being on top causes more stress than I could ever fully explain to another person not in my shoes. Every employee, shareholder, and board member looks to me for leadership. Who could I go to for help when there are moments that make me question my sanity?
No one.
There isn't a single person I could share my doubts, fears, or moments of madness with who wouldn’t consider me weak. Not even my family would understand the weight I have on my shoulders. Therefore, I turn to the only good listener I know–vodka.
It helps to take the edge off without me having to spill my guts to a stranger and end up with a prescription for something that would numb my mind and make me useless as CEO. I need to stay sharp. I need to be alert and aware of the people trying to take me down and destroy Interstellar.
I lift the glass to my lips, inhaling the salty splendor before I take a small sip.
Heaven.
“Is this seat taken?” a man asks at my right, interrupting my moment of bliss as the second mouthful slides down my throat.
I motion toward the empty seat without a word, not bothering to look at him. The last thing I want to do is make small talk with a stranger. Talking means not drinking. Not drinking means thinking.
My mind’s too much of a mess, and I need to calm the chaos inside if I’m ever going to get to sleep.
Ignoring his presence, I continue savoring each sip and stare at the picture hanging above the mirror behind the bar. It’s a simple work—an aerial view of the Chicago skyline at night. Each building is lit up, standing tall and beautiful.
Everything looks unimportant from so high in the air. The people are invisible from above, the city appearing as lonely as I feel. The struggles, fears, and panic below can’t be seen, but they are happening in different people’s lives at the moment that photo was snapped.
I may dislike Trent and regret every moment I spent in his bed, but there’s one thing I miss—being close to someone. Working with him made it easy to share the day-to-day challenges I felt while climbing the corporate ladder. He understood. But in the end, it wasn’t enough to keep me at his side.
I had my martini, the bar, and an empty apartment, but no complication from a jealous boyfriend. Some things had to be put on hold in order to attain the level of success I’ve achieved in such a short time. Relationships often led to marriage, which led to kids. I didn’t have time to devote to a family and still work to my best ability at Interstellar.
Setting my glass down, I rest my cheek on my hand and twirl the stem of the glass between my fingertips. I keep staring at the photo, wondering if I’d make a difference in the world. After my time passes, would I have created enough of an impact to make all the sacrifices worth it? What are wealth and success worth if there’s no one there to savor the moment with you?
“Is it always this chilly in May?”
His sexy accent makes the hair on the back of my arm stand straight up as if being beckoned by the deep purr.
“Yes.” I’m almost frozen in place with my hand still on my glass.
When he lifts his hands to his mouth, blowing into his palms before rubbing them together, I almost sneak a glance, but something stops me.
“I’ll never get used to the cold.”
“No one ever does.”
He pulls his stool closer, and I catch a whiff of his expensive cologne. “Why live here, then?”
Between his scent and the sound of his voice, I know I’m a goner if he’s handsome. “It’s where I was born and where I’ll die.” Even when I went to school in Boston, I longed for the grittiness of Chicago.
“No one is ever trapped. Why not move?”
“I work here. It’s where my life is, and I also love this city.” I take another sip, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
He finally takes a sip of his drink. “It’s beautiful for an American city.”
That statement alone aggravates me. He used the word American as if it were derogatory. I’ve traveled all over the world in my lifetime and still hadn’t found a city to rival Chicago.
Maybe Paris. Maybe.
But it still doesn’t have the same grittiness of Chicago. It may be more beautiful, but it will never be home.
“What’s your name?”
Finally, I turn, allowing myself to see the man who wants to interrupt the moment that my martini and I are having.
Damn it.
Naturally, he not only smells like sin and sounds like heaven, but he’s drop-dead gorgeous too.
The type of man I would’ve welcomed into my bed if it weren’t for the fact that all I wanted to do is drink. The dark brown hair around his face is windblown, light scruff on his face lining his lush lips perfectly. His light sky-blue eyes bore into me, filled with curiosity and something I hadn’t planned on—lust.
“Elizabeth,” I lie. I don’t feel like being me, and since I don’t know him, I don’t want to give away more than I have to, which at this point, is nothing.
“Elizabeth,” he repeats, holding out his hand to mine. Hesitantly, I slide my hand against his palm, letting his warmth transfer to my ice-cold fingers. “I’m Lou.”
“Nice to meet you, Lou.”
He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the top, scorching my skin in their wake. “What brings you here tonight?”
As soon as he releases my hand from his grip, I miss his warmth. Quickly, I grab the glass between my hands, averting my eyes, and trying to cool the flesh he’d just touched. “Just a drink before I head home.”
“May I buy you another?”
“Why?” I glance at him over my shoulder in confusion.
“Because I don’t like to drink alone.” He grabs his tumbler of Cognac. “I don’t know anyone here, and I’d rather you stay for a while.”
I take another sip of my martini, staring at his arms, which are bulging beneath the silk fabric. “Why me?”
The sleeves on his dress shirt are rolled up, exposing his forearms and wrists, which are masculine and thick. A smattering of hair covers his thick, corded muscles that melt into the dress shirt near his elbow, straining against the material and becoming one.
If I’m going to stay and play someone I’m not, I figure I’ll need another drink to get through it. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about staying. But all I have to do is look at Lou, and I know why–he’s head-to-toe handsome.
But tonight, more than any other, I feel the need to get lost. I can’t run away and forget everything that’s happening, but I can drink and role-play, pretending to be someone else. I never let go, tossing caution to the wind, but tonight the thought’s intoxicating. Tonight, I want to be anyone but me.
He looks around the bar before turning his full attention toward me. “I don’t see anyone else as beautiful as you are.”
I can’t stop my crooked smile. “Thanks.”
I shouldn’t be so enamored with the compliment. There are only three other people sitting around the bar, staring at the television as the Cubs lose yet another game.
Clearly, the martini was more powerful than I anticipated. Maybe I should’ve eaten something before I started drinking tonight. Normally, such
a small flirtation wouldn’t have an impact, but between his beautiful face and smooth accent, I’m a goner.
“So, will you stay?” He points at my martini glass that’s now almost empty and waits for my response.
It can’t hurt to stay for one more, right?
“Sure.”
“Another round,” he tells the bartender, pointing down to our glasses before he strokes his chin, the stubble on his face moving underneath his fingertips. “So, what do you do, Elizabeth?”
I can’t take my eyes off his face. I watch his fingers and wonder about the coarseness of his stubble and how it would feel rubbing against my skin. Would it tickle? I’ve never been with a man with as much hair on his face as he has. It has to be soft and my fingers itch to touch it, but I refrain. “I’m an executive assistant.”
If I’m going to lie, which I am, why not go big? People rarely have questions for assistants. If I mention the word CEO, we’d sit here and talk about my career, and it’s the one thing I want to avoid.
“Do you love it?” He tilts his head back before his eyes search my face.
“I do. What do you do?” I need to deflect and move on before I change my mind and leave.
He smiles, revealing his perfectly white, straight teeth. “I’m a pilot.”
I drag my eyes to his and realize he caught me staring at his mouth. It’s been ages since I’ve had sex. Trent was my last, and that was eons ago. Being this close to a man, a handsome one at that, with the vodka buzzing through my system has my mind wandering. His spicy cologne isn’t helping the matter either. “That sounds exciting.” Images of joining the mile-high club start to fill my brain—dirty bits of him and how he sounds when he moans—in his pilot’s uniform and aviator sunglasses.
When the bartender sets the drinks down, Lou slides the martini in front of me, brushing against my arm and bringing me back to reality. “It can be,” he says.
I’d been so busy earlier trying to avoid him, that I hadn’t fully appreciated how different he smells. The cologne he wears is expensive and not common. “I’m sorry if I was cold when you sat down.”
His smile reaches his large blue eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.”
I finally let myself relax, wrapping my fingers around my glass. I move it in circles and watch the liquid slosh around. “I’ve had such a bad day.”
“What can I do to make it better?”
I look over at him as he winks, and my cheeks instantly heat, the flush creeping up my neck to meet the redness in my face. “Just this.” I motion between us and try to steady my breathing.
Being this close to a man has never affected me. But the dull ache between my thighs when he looks at me and the way he licks his lips has my body reeling. Maybe it’s the amount of stress I’m under today or quite possibly the drink I just had on an empty stomach. Either way, I crave his touch.
His tongue pokes out, sweeping across his bottom lip before he speaks. “You want to talk about it?”
I shake my head slowly and stare at his mouth, wondering how he tastes. “I just want to drink and think about something else.”
“Personal life or work?”
“Work.” I sigh, dragging my eyes away to stare down at my drink.
“Ah. I understand that sometimes work can be stressful, but you shouldn’t let it ruin your night.” There’s a small crinkle in the corner of his eye, betraying his age or maybe that his life is just as stressful as mine, but it’s sexy. Men can pull it off, and Lou certainly does more than that.
I finger the stem of the glass and avoid eye contact. I feel like a scumbag lying to him about myself. “I wish it were that easy.”
He moves his lips close to my ear and speaks in a deep, husky voice. “I can help make your night better.”
Shivers run down my spine as he speaks. I turn, and my mouth is inches from his. “I’m not sleeping with you.” But I want to…more than anything, I want him. I want to drown myself in sin, lose my thoughts in his touch, and forget who I am for a night. I want the passion, the pleasure, and everything Lou has to offer.
He places a hand on his chest and smirks. “Elizabeth, what kind of man do you think I am?”
I smile and let my eyes travel the length of him before answering. “You look like the type of man who thinks if he buys a drink, a woman will throw herself at him.” Because from the looks of him, I’m sure he never has to ask for sex. A drop-dead gorgeous man with his sexy-chic hair and lush lips probably doesn’t have to do anything more than smile for panties to start dropping.
“The thought never crossed my mind.” He looks at me the same way I just looked at him. “You definitely don’t look like the type to sleep with a random stranger.”
“I’m not,” I shoot back, but I feel my face flush. I’ve never been the type to do the walk of shame, but a man like Lou could tempt me under different circumstances. “As long as we’re clear.”
“Crystal.”
I lied.
Two martinis later, making a total of three, and I’ve changed my mind. I want to sleep with Lou.
Sleep? No. No.
I want to fuck Lou.
He spent the last hour regaling me with his travels and the joy of being a pilot. The way he spoke about it made it seem like the most freeing job in the world. To soar above the clouds, the world silent below, sounds magical.
“Lou,” I whisper against the rim of the martini glass with one hand resting on his forearm. “Will you take me flying sometime?”
Being with him has been easy. I didn’t have to think about my job or worry about anything. I could just listen and stare at his handsome ruggedness without a thought other than him. I glance down at my hand and realize I’ve been touching him for most of the conversation with my fingers resting on his forearm.
“You name the time and place.” His deep voice sounds as smooth as the liquor in the back of my throat.
“How long are you in town?”
Why did I ask him that?
There’s no way I can ever see him again. I can’t keep pretending to be Elizabeth the executive assistant, and I have way too much on my plate right now for frivolous fun.
“For a little while.”
“A week?”
“Probably more.”
“I get the hint.” I push my empty glass forward.
“Hey.” He moves closer to me, and I feel his warmth as he rests his hand on my knee. “I’m not blowing you off. I’m here for training, and it can take a while for me to finish. It depends on my schedule.”
I give him a weak smile. “It doesn’t matter, Lou. I’m too busy with work to fly away with you.” I really didn’t even have the time to sit here and have drinks with him either, but here I am, sitting, drinking, and flirting like I don’t have a care in the world.
His fingers softly stroke the inside of my knee, and my breath hitches, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”
“I can’t,” I say, my voice breathy and betraying.
“The next night.”
I grimace. “Sorry, but I just can’t.”
“You pretend you don’t want me, Liz, but I can tell you do. The way your breathing changes when I do this.” His fingers inch higher up my leg, and I regret that I wore pants today as he makes tiny circles against my flesh. “I can tell that you want me. The way your eyes dilate when I get close to you, or when you stare at my mouth.” He licks his lips, and I follow the path of his tongue. “You know you want me. Admit it.” By the time he stops speaking, my fingernails are digging into the skin of his arm.
My body says yes, but my brain tells me to walk away—at least the part that’s still sober. The insanely hot man in the expensive dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up, wearing tailored black dress pants he fills out nicely, and a face so handsome he could grace the cover of GQ, wants me. How am I supposed to say no?
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to reality, but there’s always tonight.
�
�I’m attracted to you.” Admitting it isn’t easy for me, but I have liquid courage. Maybe it’s more stupidity, but I say the words before I can change my mind.
He brings his face closer to mine. “Then spend the night with me,” he whispers.
One-night stands have never been my thing. I’ve done them just like every other red-blooded American, but it wasn’t the reason I came here tonight. I needed to get lost and forget about everything. Lou gave me that out. The conversation alone did the trick, along with the three martinis I drank. But the thought of seeing him naked makes my mouth salivate and my spine tingle.
I swallow down my fear and lead with my body instead of my mind. “Okay.”
He flattens his hand on my leg before curling it around my thigh. “Come on.” He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, pulling out a money clip before tossing some bills on the bar.
I think about changing my mind, but then his fingers start to move, and all doubt vanishes. “Are you staying here?”
He holds out his hand to me, waiting for me to take it and seal the deal. “Yes.”
Clearly, the stress of the day must’ve had a greater effect than I thought. After three martinis and a lot of flirting, it doesn’t matter–I want him.
I grab my purse from the bar and turn to face him, a devilish smile on my face while my insides are doing backflips.
“Are you sure?” he asks when I put my hand in his.
My smile may be cockeyed, probably from the drinks, but my answer is clear and direct. I climb off the stool and smooth my shirt with one free hand. “Yes. Are you?”
He wraps his arm around my back and steadies me as we walk out of the hotel bar. The spark between us is almost visible as we steal glances at each other, walking through the lobby. My need grows stronger the closer we get to the elevators, and the butterflies inside my stomach are flying around with excitement.
By the time we make it to the elevator bank, I don’t feel as tipsy as I did when I agreed to go to his room. “Elizabeth,” he says, pulling my body closer to his. “I need to know that you want this. I don’t take advantage of women.” His fingers tighten on my waist. “I want you. More than anything, I want to taste you.”
