Buttons and Grace

by Penelope Sky

  “Can I get you something to drink?” She glanced to the shelf on the right side of her office. A liquor cabinet was there, a full wet bar with glasses, a bucket of ice, and fresh fruit. She opened a bottle of whiskey and poured a glass.

  I watched her, my eyes entranced by her movements. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” It was eleven in the afternoon, and she was already drinking.

  Fucking sexy.

  “I hope you like Old Fashioneds.”

  My eyes narrowed with interest. “I do, actually.”

  She made the drinks and even tossed the orange peel and cherry inside. Her green eyes were locked on mine as she walked across the gray rug and placed the glass on the coffee table beside me. Her heels clapped against the floor with every movement she made, a song that matched her aura perfectly.

  I watched her walk around the desk, my eyes focusing on her perfect ass.

  It was tight.

  She didn’t just sit on that ass all day. She hit the gym—at least three times a week. Her arms were toned, and her stomach was as flat as a solid line.

  I liked a fit woman. Not just someone who ran every morning, but someone who could pick up a barbell and do twenty squats. I appreciated her physique and wondered how she looked in just her beautiful skin.

  She sat down again and took a long drink. When she licked her lips at the end, it almost seemed deliberate.

  I drank my own, noting how strong it was. It was definitely a double.

  “I don’t have much time, Hunt. Get to the point.”

  The harder she became, the more I admired her. She didn’t dance around with bullshit and meaningless words. Everything was clear and concise—just like the rest of her. “Your publishing house has been failing every year for the past three years. It was never that profitable to begin with, but now it’s costing you more to keep the lights on than ever before.”

  She drank from her glass, finishing half of it without seeming even somewhat affected by the booze. This must be something she did on a regular basis so she grew immune to it. She could hold her liquor as well as I could. If I were out with a woman who downed a single one of these, she’d be giddy and right on my lap. “I’m aware of the situation, Mr. Hunt. That doesn’t change what I’ve already said—repeatedly. I’m not interested in selling.”

  For the richest woman in the world, that didn’t seem like a business decision that made sense. “Why?”

  “Why doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me. You seem like a smart woman. You wouldn’t be where you are if you owned unsuccessful businesses.”

  She brought the glass to her lips and finished the rest of it. A lipstick mark now stuck to the glass, a perfect outline of her mouth. I wondered if the same thing would happen if her mouth were pressed against something else. “Why are you so adamant about buying it? You aren’t the kind of businessman to reinvent a brand. You start from the ground up. What’s your exception in this case?”

  I cracked a smile, knowing she’d read up on me. Maybe she Googled me. Maybe she saw the way my life was represented by reporters. Or perhaps she was smart enough to know there was always more to the story. “I think I can turn your publishing house around. I have big plans for it.”

  She stared me down with her stark green eyes. They were lively like a forest of pine trees, darker more than vibrant. They held profound mystery, a collection of undiscoverable secrets. She displayed very little of her mind, hiding behind her powerful front and absorbing endless information around her. She examined me like a specimen under a microscope, looking at me at an unparalleled magnification. “Diesel Hunt isn’t the kind of man to wait for anybody. He’s driven, but doesn’t chase. He’s smart and indifferent. You’ve attempted to command my attention four times now—to buy a failing publishing house.” She leaned forward over her desk, getting a better look at me. She reminded me of a lion of homing in on her prey.

  I loved being her prey.

  She cocked her head to the side, her expression sexy when it was this serious. “Do you want to fuck me?” Her eyes didn’t close, not even for a second to blink. She had me cornered so she could watch every little reaction I made.

  The skin on the back of my neck immediately prickled, standing on end like a cold draft had entered the office space. My hands rested on the armrests, my fingers gripping the edge of the wood. My cock came to life, unable to resist its natural urgency to grow. The pounding blood left my temples and circled down below, answering the question that my mouth refrained from admitting.

  She asked the question with such confidence, looked past my actions and explored the motivations behind them. She didn’t arrive at the conclusion because she viewed herself as beautiful. It was simply the most logical explanation for my behavior.

  And I found that sexy.

  She didn’t stop herself from speaking her mind. She said exactly what she thought, regardless of how I would view her. Her eyes shifted back and forth as she examined my face, waiting for the answer she’d already predicted.

  I could lie and ignore the way my cock pressed against my fly in my slacks. But she had agreed to see me on short notice, probably canceled a different meeting to give me an audience. She only would have done that if she was going to get something out of it.

  I clenched my jaw hard before I answered because I couldn’t remember the last time I was this turned on. She made my spine tighten until it was about to snap in half. All the muscles in my body tensed as the heat flushed through me. Images of me plowing into her right on that desk overcame me. I fucked her mouth, her pussy, and finally finished by coming deep inside her ass.

  “Yes.”

  Her expression didn’t change, showing the same hardness as before. She slowly sat back, returning to her stick-straight position behind her desk. She swallowed slightly, the muscles of her neck shifting.

  My hands continued to grip the armrests.

  When she rose from her desk and walked around, I hoped she was going to straddle my hips and ride me then and there. My cock wanted to be buried deep inside her, to make a home there and never leave.

  “As flattered as I am, I don’t mix business with pleasure.” She leaned back against the front of her desk, her hands gripping the white edge.

  “Then I won’t buy your publishing house. Problem solved.” When she gripped her desk the way I gripped my chair, I knew she wanted to feel my hard cock sink inside her. She wouldn’t have addressed me so deliberately if she weren’t prepared for the answer I gave. She wanted to fuck me too, even if she didn’t admit it the way I did.

  That diplomatic smile stretched across her lips. “You know what I mean, Hunt.”

  We both operated in the same stratosphere. We knew the same people. Reporters followed us everywhere we went. She had a bigger reputation to protect than I did. I could fuck every woman in Manhattan, and no one cared. If she simply did her hair wrong, she would make negative headlines.

  That was the sad world we lived in.

  “I should get back to work. It was nice seeing you, Mr. Hunt.” She grabbed my half-full glass from the table and walked back around her desk.

  I got another peek of her ass before I rose and walked to the door. Once dismissed, I didn’t press my argument. She was right. I didn’t want her company that badly. I’d only chased her this far because of my pride. And once I got a good look at her, I only wanted sex. I was willing to buy her company just for the opportunity fuck her.

  That was how much I wanted her.

  But she turned me down—again. And she did it so easily.

  I glanced over my shoulder before I stepped out.

  She had my glass to her lips, and she downed the rest of it, her eyes locked on me. She tipped her head back, getting every single drop and letting the orange peel come into contact with her mouth. When the whiskey was gone, she set the glass on the table. Like last time, she licked her lips.

  She licked her lips just for me.

  Tatum

  I didn�
��t wear stilettos tonight. I wore strappy heels that were just as tall as my regular shoes, and a tight dress that was so tight I could barely breathe. It was Valentino, so I couldn’t care less about respiration.

  Fashion was more important.

  Isa and Pilar sat beside me in the circular booth, both wearing dresses that stopped above their knees. Heels were on their feet, but they were so used to wearing them every day for work they didn’t think twice about it.

  “How’s the runway?” I asked Pilar, who was a supermodel for one of the biggest brands in the world. In fact, she was a brand herself.

  “Amazing and shitty,” she said. “I’m not allowed to eat this week. Hence, the water.” She nodded to the glass of ice water on the table. “If someone asks me if I’m pregnant one more time…”

  I wasn’t a big eater, so I’d always been on the slimmer side, but Pilar was all body and no fat. I couldn’t cut out the final luxuries I allowed myself in order to have the perfect physique. Being the way I was was enough for me. “Can you eat the lemon?” I teased.

  “That’s my main course,” Pilar said sarcastically.

  “Is Thorn coming tonight?” Isa asked.

  “No, he’s got his own plans.” We kept in touch on a daily basis, but we didn’t see each other around the clock. We both had our own lives to live.

  “Dang,” she said. “His friend Bryan is cute.”

  “I can pass along the message, if you like.” Isa was so beautiful it was painful to look at her. I’d already seen a dozen men look our way, their eyes set on her. Pilar was the supermodel, but Isa could easily hit the runway if she wanted to.

  “No,” she said quickly. “I can always call Thorn if I’m really serious about it.”

  I preferred to spend my time with ambitious women who had their own goals in mind. If they wanted a guy, they asked him out. If they wanted a raise, they asked for it. Isa had started her own online company that she turned into a million-dollar industry. Instead of blowing away her profits, she reinvested in other things. Now she was a powerful entrepreneur who had every right to be picky about men.

  “What’s new with you?” Isa asked. “How did that conference go?”

  Pilar sipped her water before flicking her hair behind her shoulder. She sat up straight with her shoulders back, diamond earrings in her lobes.

  “Well. There were a few assholes reporters, though.”

  “There always are.” Isa rolled her eyes.

  “Asked when I was going to have a family,” I continued. “Would they have asked Diesel Hunt that question?”

  She chuckled. “That guy plows a different girl every night, and society doesn’t give a damn about it.”

  “And then another asked me how it felt to be the richest woman in the world.” The questions always got under my skin, but I wasn’t allowed to voice my annoyance. The second I fought it, I looked defensive. Pointing out it was sexist just made me appear weak. “Like being a woman made it especially impressive…”

  “Men are pigs,” Isa said. “If I didn’t need that D, I would swear off all of them.”

  “Me too,” Pilar said.

  “Then Diesel Hunt offered to buy my publishing company…and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Diesel Hunt, for real?” Isa asked.

  “Dude, he’s sooo hot,” Pilar said. “If he made a pass at me, I’d be down.”

  “Like break-your-heart-but-it’s-totally-worth-it hot,” Isa said. “What did you say?”

  “I’m not interested in selling. He tried four separate times to talk to me about it.”

  Isa raised an eyebrow, the wickedness in her eyes. “Sounds like he’s not after the company at all…”

  I came to the same conclusion. “It would never work. He’s not my type.” I had very specific ways of doing things, and I never made an exception. Diesel Hunt didn’t fit into my criteria, as hot as he was.

  “Not your type?” Isa asked.

  “When did hot stop being your type?” Pilar asked.

  “I have a reputation to preserve,” I reminded them. “Hunt uses women like he uses cars—until they break down and become worthless.” Reporters would see us together, the world would talk about us, and then we would go our separate ways. Of course, everyone would assume he left and broke my heart…whether that was the truth or not. Being with a playboy would ruin the aura I’d developed for myself. “He’s not worth the trouble.”

  “Well, you might be right about that,” Isa said.

  We had more drinks, and eventually, two men joined us. They sat in the booth with Pilar and Isa. One man was between the two of us. It wasn’t clear who he was going for—her or me. Maybe he was confident enough to try both of us at the same time.

  I excused myself and headed to the bar, not interested in either one of them. I reached the counter and waited less than a second for the bartender to wait on me. There was only one drink I liked in particular, so much that my friends called me Old Fashioned as a nickname. Some of the men at the bar were looking at me, but none of them made a move, either because they recognized me or just assumed I would say no. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone, doing my best not to invite them to any kind of interaction.

  I didn’t pick up men in bars. Too risky.

  The bartender set the drink in front of me. “On the house, sweetheart.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  “It’s not on the house—it’s on me.” A tall man came to my side and slapped the twenty on the counter. Standing six three and smelling of body soap and cologne stood Diesel Hunt, glorious in his collared shirt and tight slacks. His jaw had just been shaved, and his fair skin was flawless and kissable. His shirt stretched across his shoulders, and his prominent muscles were impossible to ignore. He had thin hips that led to an impressive torso, muscles tied together to form a masterpiece of strength. Tanned skin was visible at the opening of his collar, and it hinted at the gorgeous flesh underneath.

  The second he was near, my guard was up. “Thank you for the offer, but that’s not necessary.”

  Diesel kept his eyes on me as he pushed the bill farther across the counter. “Keep the change, man.”

  The bartender took it without question.

  “I had to pay you back for that double you made me last week.”

  “I drank half of it.” Not that he needed me to remind him. “So you don’t owe me anything.”

  He was closer to me than he’d ever been before because the rest of the bar was crammed. He was in my personal space, crossing the line of my invisible bubble. When anyone came too close to me, I automatically stepped back.

  Except now.

  His long and toned legs looked great in his tight slacks. His ass couldn’t be seen, but the second he walked away, I would take a peek. Diesel Hunt was America’s favorite playboy for a reason. He was packing all the right things. He was good-looking, smart, and extremely charming. Even I wasn’t immune.

  Hunt finally severed eye contact and turned to the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  The bartender poured the glass, added the orange peel and cherry, and then slid it toward Hunt.

  I slapped a bill on the counter. “That one is on me.”

  The bartender immediately snatched it and walked off.

  Hunt grinned down at me, pleased by my actions rather than annoyed like most men would be. He took the glass and brought it to his lips. “That’s hot.”

  “There’s no ice in it?”

  He took another drink. “No. Having a woman like you buy me a drink.”

  “Like me?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It’s not every day that the richest woman in the world buys me a drink—and the most beautiful.”

  I couldn’t wear my diplomatic smile this time. A laugh escaped, hearty and deep.

  Diesel gave me a smile like I’d never seen. “You have a nice laugh. I’ve never heard it before.”

  “Most people haven’t.”

  “I’m glad I a
muse you—even when I’m being serious.” His eyes returned to their harsh seriousness, burning me with their heated stare. They didn’t leave my face as he brought the glass to his lips and took another drink. “Yours is better.”

  “Thank you. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “You should come to my place and try one of my mine.”

  When Hunt had walked out of my office, I’d assumed that was the end of his pursuit. But I’d underestimated him. He didn’t stop until he got what he wanted. And now, I was his new target. “I already explained my view on the matter.”

  “But we both know that’s not really what you want.”

  If any other man spoke those words, they would irritate me. But coming from him, a man who made me soak my panties, it was enticing. “It doesn’t matter what I want. We’re from different worlds—even though we exist in the same one.”

  Hunt seemed to understand exactly what I was referring to. He respected me more than the other men I encountered. He didn’t attempt to interrupt me or talk over me, and not once did he voice a sexist remark. “Despite what you’ve read about me, I’m a gentleman. And gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Every woman you’re with is immediately in the centerfold of every tabloid.”

  “Because they want to be there. They want their fifteen minutes of fame, fifteen minutes in my bed, and fifteen minutes in my fancy car. But the women who don’t want the spotlight never get it. I’ve been with lots of models and actresses that you don’t know about.”

  “Like whom?”

  He wore a quiet smile. “I know you’re testing me.”

  He was right, I was. “And you passed.”

  He scooted closer to me at the bar, his face now dangerously close to mine. “Come home with me, Titan.” When he was this close, his cologne wrapped around me. I got a visual of what it would be like to be in his bed, his powerful body on top of mine as his ass worked to fuck me hard like I enjoyed. “It’s just you and me.”