Pure Abandon

by Jeannine Colette

  “You’re incorrigible!” I take my hand back.

  “God, I love spending time with you.” His smile eases me. “Don’t get mad at me, but I’m going to say something and I have no apologies for saying it.”

  I raise my eyebrows in curiosity.

  “You look fucking hot in that bikini.”

  I am beyond taken aback that my boss thinks I’m hot. Especially since he’s this beautiful, successful, giving man who teaches music to underprivileged kids yet has time to run a multimillion-dollar corporation.

  “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.” I try not give away too much. I want to lick the sweat off his chest, but that would be entirely inappropriate.

  Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me?

  “I’m glad you approve. And I have to thank the woman who picked out that suit for you. Did you have any trouble with the sizes?”

  “Her name is Avalyn, and I’ve already made a mental note to thank her. And, yes, the sizes are perfect. How did you know?”

  “Years of practice, I guess,” he says as the waitress quickly returns with our drinks. “Come on, let’s get drunk!”

  I lift my files from my lap and hold them in front of his face.

  “Work first,” I reprimand.

  He lets out a deep laugh. “Yes. I want to hear all the ideas you have in that pretty little head of yours.”

  Asher walks us over to a private cabana where we can sit at a table and get some actual work done. It’s beyond bizarre conducting business in a bikini, but when in Rome…

  Thankfully, Asher has put his shirt back on and grimaces at my paperwork, confused as to why I’m working without a computer like a Neanderthal. His words, not mine.

  I’m pleasantly surprised he likes most of what I’ve completed. If he’s disappointed that I don’t have some things in the final stages, he doesn’t let on. Not surprisingly, he has a few good suggestions of his own. I write them all down with pure anticipation. This concert is going to rock!

  When we’re finished, Asher has our private concierge deliver a special meal from Mr. Chow. We spend the rest of the early evening eating sushi, drinking saki, and talking about how we made our respected careers. My career path is shorter and not as exciting, so my contribution to the conversation is short.

  The sun starts to set as he tells me about interning at his grandfather’s insistence and learning about buying companies and rebuilding them. I was shocked to learn his first business venture was more about impressing a girl than it was about making money.

  “Candy.”

  “Candy? Was she a stripper?”

  Asher laughs. “No, she was not a stripper.”

  “Was she a candy striper?”

  “No! She was not a candy striper.” He laughed. “What is it with you trying to ruin the story of my first love?”

  “Spill it, Asher. Was she a palm reader?”

  Tossing a bite of sushi in his mouth, Asher holds up a finger, his mouth still chewing.

  “Candace was the daughter of an executive I worked for. He didn’t think I was good enough for her because I worked as a broker and he had bigger plans for his little princess. You see, even though my name is Asher, I was a troublemaker and people assumed I only got the job because of my grandfather’s connections. Well, actually, that is why I got the job. No one thought I’d amount to much. Truth is I didn’t care if I did or didn’t. All I wanted to do was play music. I wanted to work for a record label, but my grandfather insisted I take a job as a broker.”

  I eye him inquisitively. “You don’t seem to me like the kind of person who does what others tell him to do.”

  My words must have caught him because his brows furrow with a look bearing a hint of resignation. “At the end of the day, I am an Asher, and with the family name comes great responsibility. My grandfather… he has rules and is very strict about how they should be obeyed.”

  From the little I know about Asher, I understand he’s an orphan. A boy who lost his mother at ten years old and went to live with his grandfather, who it seems was a tyrant at home. From my head to the tips of my toes, I am dying to ask him more about his family, but I know with Asher, there is only so far you can go without him diverting the conversation.

  “So how did you prove to the girl you were good enough?” I ask instead.

  Seemingly grateful for the question, he nods and answers, “By making my first million buying a small textile company and reselling it, which I was only able to do because my grandfather gave me the capital. I don’t like to lie about how I got started. After my first big venture, everything snowballed from there. It was easy to buy and sell, and if all goes well, I will be buying my own record label so I can live my true passion, music.”

  “And philanthropy!” I interject.

  “And philanthropy. Yes, it’s a large part of my life.”

  “So what happened? Where is Candy? Why aren’t you married with kids and living in Greenwich or somewhere?”

  He kicks back a shot of saki. “Well, she did want me, but for all the wrong reasons. I knew then that I would never know who loved me for me and not for this,” he says, waving his hand in the air at our surroundings. “I don’t trust people for a reason.”

  I swallow a lump and try to keep my mouth from falling. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t mind.”

  “But I do. I assumed you liked being a bachelor, that you liked having a different woman every night.” I pause before making my declaration. “You wanted more in life.”

  Asher leans back and laughs, his hand winding behind his head as he rubs his neck, his eyes darting around the table. “I think you’ve misunderstood. I quite enjoy the women I have in my bed.”

  My head tilts to the side as I continue to look at him. As his hand returns around the front of his body, Asher lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. His cavalier grin melts as his eyes take in mine. His forehead crinkles.

  Asher is avoiding my observation and he knows I know it.

  He looks at me as if conflicted about responding. “My grandfather pushed the thoughts of settling down out of my head. Said it causes more heartache and distraction than it’s worth. He should know. He lost a daughter and took in her kid.” His gaze drops to the table. “The truth is, growing up without a family makes me want one even more.” There is a pause before he adds, “I’ve never said that out loud before.”

  Tears well up in my eyes. What kind of life is that to live? When Asher said he wanted to be friends, I thought his tale of not being able to trust anyone was some sort of ploy. Now I see it’s merely the truth. Can it be possible the sinful Asher who feasts on Twinkies is really a romantic deep down? Can I have been so utterly wrong about this man? Have I been wrong about… everything?

  Asher slowly leans across the table and gently cups my face, wiping my check with his thumb, catching a stray tear. “No, please, don’t cry. Not for me. I don’t deserve tears.” My breath hitches at his touch. His hand is so warm and comforting. My head falls slightly into his palm.

  His eyes are sincere and I bite back the sting of my tears to show him I’m okay. “You are a great man. You deserve so much more than you’re allowing yourself.” I mean it. Getting to know him over the past few weeks has been a pleasure. He may be inappropriate at times and even bossy. God, he can be downright pompous. Yet, he is without a doubt the most amazingly contradictory person I have ever known.

  “I have done some bad things over the years. In life, in business, and to women. Especially to women. They’re my toys. They use me and I use them. I like my lifestyle. I don’t have to answer to anyone, and at this stage, I’ve grown accustomed to doing whatever the hell I want.”

  Asher releases my face from his grasp as I wipe the dew from my eyes. I can’t make him out. He is damaged, but not irreparable. Why does he continue his cavalier lifestyle when he can have so much more?

  “You need a shot!” Asher motions for the waiter. “Te
quila, por favor!”

  “Oh no! I haven’t had tequila since college!”

  “Oh, how I would have loved to have known you at eighteen.”

  Letting out a slight laugh, I release a deep breath and shake my head. “I’m sure you would.” There’s the Asher I know so well.

  The waiter brings back three shots of tequila… each. I explain to Asher that this is way too much alcohol, but he assures me this is top-grade liquor and I can handle it.

  “Lick your hand,” he directs me.

  I scrunch up my nose at the thought but shrug my shoulders and figure I’ll give it a shot, pun intended. Tentatively at first, I poke my tongue out and touch the back of my hand.

  Asher raises his hand to his mouth and glides his smooth, slick tongue across the back like he’s licking up ice cream. My lips part with a breath. I lift my hand back to my lips and try again, this time sliding my tongue across my soft skin, and look up to see Asher’s eyes as they follow my tongue as it glides across my hand.

  Asher lifts the saltshaker and sprinkles our hands. “Lick, sip, and squeeze.” He offers me a lime. “Ready?”

  I nod. Here goes. I lick my hand, gulp the shot of tequila, and squeeze the lime into my mouth. Wow, that burns!

  “Feels good,” he says and pushes the next shot of tequila in front of me, and we repeat the process.

  We share a few good laughs, talking about some of our worst drinking experiences. My head feels lighter, and I start to sing along to one of the songs playing over the loudspeaker. It’s a popular dance tune that has been remixed to a lowdown beat, more laidback for our setting. Something I learned from Asher.

  After the third shot, I feel like dancing. “Dance with me.” My voice sounds impish and naughty, which makes me laugh because I am neither of those things.

  Asher grabs my hand and we stand, still inside the secluded cabana. Our bodies close, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in tighter. My breasts rest on his chest; our groins connect. Not being the best dancer, I allow him to lead the way.

  I’ve danced with him without music before. He was magnificent then and even better now. The freeing feeling I have from the little bit of alcohol I’ve drank allows me to move along with him, and I feel comfortable, even confident in my movements. Our hips bound together sway from left to right and around in tiny circles.

  Asher traipses his hand until it’s firm on my lower back, causing my upper body to arch. He dips me and places his other hand on my chest and lets it travel down my body, from clavicle to navel. As he returns me, my body inches up in one smooth movement until I’m resting back on his chest. My eyes widen when I feel his arousal through his bathing suit. My pulse quickens. My ears burn with heat and energy. And my body is awakened.

  Placing his hands on my hips, Asher spins me, facing away from him. His palms rest low on my belly and heat stirs within me, low in my sex. His arousal pressing hard against my backside, I lay my hands over his as I feel my own throbbing deep in my core.

  I rest the back of my head against his chest. We continue to move with each other, our hips now dipping into each other in deep, erotic sways. His mouth at my ear, I can feel hot, moist, erratic breaths against my neck. His lips lower to my skin, this time taking my neck in his mouth with warm, wet kisses. Tingles travel down my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck stand and my nipples erect, pleading, wanting, and needing. My breath hitches and I drink in every sensation his luscious mouth gives me as he devours my skin.

  With my hands still over his, I lower them, guiding him lower down my body, pleading for him to touch me.

  Asher twists his hands in mine and grabs them to spin me back around. He is breathing hard and his face is flush. “I’m taking you to your room,” he whispers.

  The walk to the room is faster than I thought it would be. My head spins a little. I think I fumble a few times on our way back. I drop my bag as I try to gather my room key. Asher takes my bag out of my hand and removes the key to open the door.

  Before I can move my feet, he bends down and lifts me off the ground. We enter the room and he kicks the door closed behind him. The room is dark, but the moonlight illuminates the space. Asher places me on the ground beside the bed and walks over to the chest of drawers and removes something.

  “Lift your arms.” His voice is sultry.

  I comply as he removes my cover-up. I feel bashful in my bikini. Even though I just shared the most erotic dance of my life with him and felt his lips on the skin of my neck, it feels entirely too sinful in the confinement of my hotel room.

  “Again,” he commands, and I lift my arms again as he places the nightie over my head and it falls down my body. Spinning me around, Asher undoes the strings of my bikini top and they fall to the floor. He removes my hair tie and my hair tumbles past my shoulders.

  Asher leans over the bed and pulls back the blankets. He lifts me in his arms again and lays me gently onto the bed. Tucking the blankets over me, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on my forehead.

  “Good night, Gray,” he says.

  Backing away from the bed, Asher turns and walks out the door. It takes me a few moments to get my bearings.

  What the hell just happened!?

  Breathe, Kat. Just breathe.

  The room still spinning, my head is a mess of confusion and I don’t have the energy to fight. When the door closes, I lean over and place the pillow over my head to block out the moonlight.

  Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll suffocate.

  I have no idea what time I went to bed. I wake up at an ungodly hour with an ungodly hangover and an ungodly temper. How could he have done this to me… again!

  Okay, so the first time we met in the car wasn’t quite as compelling, but still. The night at the museum was intense, and he just disappeared. Now, last night, I thought he was going to make love to me. I thought he wanted me. I felt his need for me last night. I felt his lips on my skin, his palms on my body… I felt him!

  When we came to the room, I thought this was it. But no, he made me look like a fool, again! I can picture him laughing at me. “I use women. They are my toys.” He probably ropes them all in, like the puppet master he is, with stories of his dead family and wanting one of his own. The big brooding billionaire can’t find anyone who loves him for him. Liar! I can’t believe I let him get to me. And with tequila!

  Tequila.

  My stomach dances and I can’t make it to the bathroom fast enough. The contents of my stomach expel from my body. My limbs go limp. My head pounds. I wish I could die here on the bathroom floor. This is the second time in two days I’ve found myself lying on porcelain. I seriously have to stop having such intimate moments with bathroom floors.

  And then I hear the door open.

  “Are you okay?” Asher rushes to me and wipes the hair away from my face.

  What is he doing here?

  “Get off me. I’m fine. Get out of here!” I shout and feel the need to get sick again. This time, Asher grabs my hair and holds it as I empty the rest of the contents of my stomach into the latrine. If I weren’t so sick, I’d be embarrassed.

  No, scratch that. This is definitely the most embarrassing moment of my life.

  When I’m done throwing up, Asher hands me a hand towel and I wipe my face. I look up at him, wishing it were all a bad dream.

  “Come on, back in bed.” He leans down and carries me back to the bed. I get a striking sense of déjà vu. Did he carry me last night? Oh God, he carried me to bed. What’s with him and wanting to carry me everywhere? I am officially the most pathetic person on the planet.

  “What are you doing here?” My head throbs and pulsates. Remember that throbbing I felt last night in my groin? Yeah, its relocated to my brain and it hurts. Or is it my heart? Could my heart have relocated to my brain? It’s quite possible.

  “I brought you room service. I figured you’d be in bad shape so I ordered the Alexander Asher hangover kit.” His smirk needs to be smacked off his face.
<
br />   He thinks this is funny. The bastard.

  Asher sits on the bed next to me, while I lie in my shame.

  “First order of business,” he says, “is Tylenol. Extra strength. Open up.” I open my mouth as he places two white tablets on my tongue. “Now wash it down with this.”

  I shake my head. “A Bloody Mary? I think I’ve had enough to drink.”

  “Nothing cures a hangover better than more alcohol.” He puts a straw to my mouth and I inhale. I feel so shitty. I’ll try anything to feel better.

  “How are you not hung-over? You drank as much as I did,” I say, taking a bite of the toast he holds to my mouth. I take the toast from his hand and watch as he uncovers a dish of varied greasy breakfast foods.

  “I’m twice your size. I should be able to handle more liquor than you. Though, I must admit, I didn’t expect you to get as out of control as you did.”

  I drop my toast and feel the need to get sick again. For a second, I almost forgot about what almost happened.

  “I want to apologize for getting… carried away. Last night, I…”

  My eyes shut in mortification. “Save it, Asher. I was drunk and clearly had no idea what I was doing. There’s no way I would have danced like that if it weren’t for the tequila… and the sake… and the Sex on the Beach…” My stomach rolls, causing my eyes to open and face the source of my unease.

  Asher’s face is pulled in, the corners of his eyes pushed down. His shoulders fall and he lets out a breath.

  “That’s good news, then. Here I thought I’d have to let you down easy or something. I will now make a vow never to drink with you again.” He smiles and gives me his phony scout’s honor salute.

  I know I said the words first, but his stung and hurt my heart. Both the one in my chest and in my head. My throat feels sore and my chest surges upward and I fight the urge to cry. I take a deep breath instead.

  “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. I promise it will never happen again.” I feel tears forming behind my eyes. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get ready. Please leave.”

  Slowly nodding in agreement, Asher places his hands on his thighs and rises from the bed. His hand on the knob, Asher opens the door and pauses for a second. His broad shoulders rise and fall a few times, his muscles expanding up and out, visible through the button-down shirt he’s wearing. His head sweeps to the right and he talks over his shoulder. “You are expected downstairs in the spa at two to get ready for the benefit tonight. They know not to let you pay for a thing. No arguing.”