by Mariah Dietz
“Before you call him, let me talk to our accountant. Maybe this was filed incorrectly.”
I push my seat back and close my laptop as I stand. “Thank you for your time.”
“I actually have a list of things I’d like to cover with you,” he says, remaining seated.
“Wonderful. I look forward to receiving them along with the details of the lounge.” I grab my things and head for the door.
“Mr. Banks,” he objects. “With all due respect, sir—”
I shake my head. “It took you three and a half months to accept my meeting, and you were an hour late. If you want my time, you need to respect my time. Otherwise, I’ll find someone who will. You’re not inimitable.”
His lips close and then open several times as he struggles to find a response.
“Have a good day,” I tell him, leaving for my room.
After changing into shorts and a T-shirt, I climb into the back seat of a hotel car that takes me the short distance to Balboa Park, where Chloe took a car this morning. I glance at my watch, noting it’s nearly four already.
Shit.
I’d told her I’d be done by noon.
Me: You wouldn’t believe how boring everything is in comparison to your explanation of exoplanets.
Chloe: That’s the spreadsheets talking.
Me: Where are you?
Chloe: The Air and Space Museum at Balboa Park.
I tell the driver where to drop me off.
Me: Anything you haven’t seen before?
Chloe: A little. How are your meetings going?
Me: Exhausting.
Chloe: I’m sorry. Hopefully, San Fran won’t be such a headache.
I spot her, wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt she bought in Arizona with the sleeves rolled. Her brown hair is down in waves that reach the middle of her back, her attention on her phone as she stands in front of a giant jet.
“I incorrectly assumed I’d find you in the space section,” I tell her.
She turns to face me, eyes shining with surprise, and her lips spread into a wide smile as she wraps her arms around my neck. “What are you doing?”
I grin, holding her close with my hand on the swell of her backside. “I’m sorry I’m so late for our date.”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay. I knew you had to work. I hope you didn’t rush out for me.”
I wish I had sooner.
I lean forward and kiss her, reveling in the way she melts against me, her arms winding tighter around my neck like she’s as dependent on me as I am her.
“Do you like planes?” I ask her when she tucks herself under my arm.
She shrugs. “I know very little about aviation.”
“We could take a helicopter tour.”
She shakes her head. “This is my date. You can’t hijack it.”
I laugh. “You’re right. All I wanted was that kiss, and now I’m ready for a Robinson date.”
The museum is nearly empty, with it being the middle of the week, allowing us to be louder and goofier as we pose in the spacesuit and climb into the small early planes they permit guests to sit inside. It’s a side of Chloe I’ve only seen in fractional pieces—her carefree side where laughter fuels her while her love for adventure guides her forward.
When the museum closes a short time later, we head outside, my reluctance at returning to the hotel on the tip of my tongue. Selfishly, I want more time with her.
“Want to explore the gardens a little? And then I was thinking we could go down to Mission Beach and see the boardwalk and visit the Pacific?” She bites the inside of her cheek like she does when she gets nervous.
“Absolutely. Yes.” I set a hand on her back, allowing her to choose among the dozens of gardens that surround us.
“Have you been here before?” she asks.
I nod. “But it’s been quite some time. I think I was maybe twelve? Fifteen?”
“Did you travel a lot when you were young?”
I contemplate her question, realizing my reality is vastly different than most, including hers. “I did. My father always felt it was very important to be hands-on with many aspects of the company. We only hired a management company in the past ten years.”
“How was that with school?”
We turn at a sign for the Australian Garden. “I lived mostly with my grandparents until I was thirteen. I had private tutors who came to their house, and I’d travel on holidays to meet up with my parents. When I was thirteen, my grandma passed away and we moved to Miami full time where I enrolled in school for the first time.”
Chloe runs her hand over my forearm. “I’m sorry about your grandma.”
I nod. “Me too. She was great. You would have liked her.” I close my eyes, grinning when I imagine the two of them together. “She would have liked you.”
A smile brightens her face. “Do you get along well with your parents?”
I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just hard to keep a straight face when I consider how to answer this question. Chloe’s gaze is gentle, but I can tell she notices the simple changes, allowing me a bit more space as we continue to stroll along the path. “We get along fine for the most part, but in many ways, we’re strangers. Even once we were living under the same roof, it was mostly my Uncle Kip who looked after me, and putting it mildly, that wasn’t always the best decision.” I shake my head, recalling the number of times I walked in on him drunk or having sex or both in the pool house that he claimed as his. His response was generally to invite me to join, offering me one of the girls he’d brought back from a local bar or a drink from the bottle he was finishing. “My dad and I have a shared love for the family business, but he struggles to understand my love for football, which is what started this entire trip. He thinks football’s a distraction and is certain I’m going to try and make a career out of it. But that’s never been my intention. I love the game. I love playing the game, but I’ve always wanted to help run the hotels.”
Chloe doesn’t say anything, occasionally making eye contact with me to verify she’s listening, and I swear there are moments where she can hear the words I’m not even saying.
“My dad’s in the process of training someone else to become the new CEO, so I’m trying to prove that I’m invested and want to carry this legacy on after I graduate. I just want a break from it for a while—be normal and live in one state, in one country.”
“Where will you live as the CEO?” she asks, not questioning my role as anything but the CEO.
I shrug. “It won’t matter. I’ll have to travel a lot.”
Her eyes flash to mine, hesitance and sadness evident and something that looks too close to sympathy stirring in their depths. I don’t want to see any of them, much less all of them at once.
“What about you? Are you close with your parents?”
She smiles, but it’s weaker than her normal brilliant smiles. “Yeah. My parents are pretty great. My mom is a lawyer, hence, Brighton. She works at preserving wildlife, and my dad’s an actuary. Nessie is basically our mom: fun, outgoing, adventurous, and I’m our dad: high-strung, stubborn, and introverted.”
I pull my chin back, repeating her self-assessment. “That’s how you see yourself?”
“I don’t mean it in a bad way. I love my dad dearly. But sometimes I’m a little envious that Nessie got all the carefree genes.”
I stop, catching her waist so she hears me. “Listen to me because I am prepared to tell you this as many times as necessary. The fact that you’re motivated and don’t do stupid shit doesn’t make you high-strung. Your love for learning and seeing new things and being kind are some of the sexiest things about you. And your stubbornness is determination, and when I see that look flash in your eyes, I feel absolutely undone.”
Her gaze starts to slip, unable, or unwilling, to accept my words. “It’s okay. I can admit my faults. I like rules and structure and…”
“Chloe.” I duck down, so she has to look me in the eyes. “I am happy to ri
se to this challenge to help you see that all these things you’re listing as negative traits are what make you fucking perfection. I will play and double down every. Single. Time.”
Hope settles in her eyes as she stares at me, and I reach for her, sealing my lips over hers in a kiss that feels more significant as I realize how much her happiness means to me—how reliant I am on knowing she’s okay. She kisses me back, her lips a complete contradiction to her words of uncertainty, demanding and inviting in ways that make me wish we weren’t out here in the middle of a public park.
She kisses me once more before she leans back, a smile on her lips. “Are you done with these gardens?”
“Hotel?”
She laughs. “We leave tomorrow. We have to go see the beach first.”
“I’ll bring you back so you can see the beach.”
She shakes her head. “I have to put my feet in the sand and see if the water is as cold as it is in Washington.”
I hoist her over my shoulder, and she belts out a laugh. “I’ll give you the Cliffs Notes on our drive back to the hotel.”
“One hour!” she cries between peals of laughter. “I want one hour at the beach, and then I’m yours.”
I slap her backside. “You’re always mine.”
24
Chloe
I wake up to the sun streaming through the gauzy curtains. We must have forgotten to close the blackout shades last night after returning from the beach, our hands and thoughts preoccupied as we sought out each other’s orgasms like we were competing to be the first to claim a space expedition.
He won.
But I’m pretty sure I was the winner, considering I reached my second orgasm, chasing his first while he thrust inside of me over the back of the couch with the curtains still drawn.
We showered off the lingering sand from the beach and the fresh coat of sweat we’d gained on our race to climax and feasted on room service while watching a movie.
It felt normal. Good. Happy. Easy—shockingly easy.
I stare at his hand, still gripping me even in sleep, the hairs peppering his strong forearms, the curve of his fingers and squared nails. Tyler’s hands are flat out erotic. His fingers are long and strong, clean but not unblemished; signs of football and weightlifting and digging in the sand with me apparent. I consider all the places he’s touched me and how it’s always with confidence, yet measured gentleness, and always pleasurable.
My heart races with the memory, desire coursing through my veins. I press my butt against his groin, feeling his erection through his boxer briefs. His hand at my arm tightens as he releases a low growl against my ear. I press back a little farther to ensure he’s awake. His lips come down on the back of my neck, kissing and licking at a leisurely pace that makes my core throb with impatience.
I lift his hand, placing it against my breast that is thinly veiled with a tank top. His fingers graze over my hardened nipple, and he growls again. This time his hips move, thrusting against my backside so I can feel the entirety of his impressive length. He rolls my nipples, the cotton creating a new sensation, one that would be hot in the back of a crowded theater or a secluded corner on campus, but it has me quickly realizing my preference for his skin on mine. As though he can read my thoughts, Ty snakes his hand under my shirt, skating across my stomach with a flat palm like he’s memorizing every inch of me. He reaches my breast, kneading his fingers into my flesh as he releases another guttural growl adjoined with another thrust of his hips. I know my panties are soaked, and I wish they were gone so I could bend forward a little more and feel his hard intrusion into my entrance that makes pleasure radiate through my entire body.
“Ty,” I moan his name, sounding pitiful and needy and not caring in the slightest.
He rolls my nipple as his other hand cups my core, making me gasp as he presses his fingers against me, creating a spike of desperation that has me bucking my hips and whimpering. Last night, the scientist in me tackled the awkward elephant in the room: safe sex. We’d used condoms every time, but with oral sex, I’d been regretting not having the conversation sooner.
Awkwardness tinged the conversation initially, but he quickly normalized it with stats that my sanity needed as well as the admission that few of his “conquests” were sexual victories but rather public make-out sessions, which my ego rejoiced in far more than I thought I would. It also has me feeling more adventurous and intimate as I twist in his arms and go to my knees, scooting down and taking the blankets with me, exposing his chiseled chest and abs.
I slip my fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling them out and down to free his hardened length. Ty leans back, tucking his hands behind his head, exposing the tattoo on the inside of his bicep—the one I’d tried to see at the beginning of our trip. It’s a map of the world but artfully distorted with stitches between England and the United States. It’s painfully beautiful and likely reflective of far more than I’m aware.
I run my hands down his abs, tracing each defined line, and he hisses out a breath as I make my way to his hardened cock. I grin, tracing the same pattern over his body. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, peeking at me through the fringe of russet-colored lashes.
I feel sexy.
Empowered.
Beautiful.
I slide my palm over his shaft, and he tips his chin back, seeking strength as I flash my tongue across the tip.
I lick him from base to crown, watching his cock twitch as he grinds out a swear word, his accent thicker. I lick him again and again, changing the pace and pressure of my tongue until he’s fisting the sheets, his knuckles bone white. I take him in my mouth, licking over his head when he groans. “Chloe, you’re going to make me come.”
I lower my mouth even more, and his thighs flex under my hands as he swears again. I move, ready to lick his shaft, drunk on this power I feel. The moment I move, he’s grabbing me, hauling me up and onto my back, pinning me in place with his gaze wild and bright. His lips crash against mine in a kiss that translates his hunger and desire while devouring me. I kiss him back, meeting him thrust for thrust with my tongue, gripping his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer, wanting to feel his skin against mine.
“I need you,” I say against his lips, kissing him again as I raise my hips to feel him. “I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen. We’re both clean. This is safe. I want to feel you.”
His blue gaze casts down my body and then lands back on my face.
“I mean…” I struggle to gain sense and words that make sense and the right order to place them in. “We don’t have to. If it’s a rule for you, we can use a condom.”
A smile curves the corners of his lips, and then he kisses away my self-consciousness. “Are you sure?”
“I want to feel you inside of me.”
He closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring with a long breath. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, opening his eyes slowly, the lust still evident, along with something that makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight and my thoughts spin in circles. I close my eyes and lift my face to kiss him again.
Tyler braces himself over me, his breath sharp as his tip nudges against my opening. Then his eyes are on mine as he moves into me in one fluid motion, his weight on his hands as he thrusts. It feels so achingly good I forget about our nine-hour car drive ahead of us and how we’re quickly nearing the end of our trip and how every day I yearn and crave being around him a little more.
“God, you feel so good,” he says, brushing his lips across my jaw before his breath fans across my cheek.
I feel impossibly strong and incredibly weak. Empowered, yet vulnerable.
Tyler peppers kisses across my cheek and then goes up on his elbows and starts moving, gentle and controlled as his stare seems to infiltrate my thoughts and far deeper, seeing how significant this moment—how significant he is to me.
He kisses me, moving faster and harder, his breaths heavier. The feeling of him and everyth
ing about this moment has me spiraling, and when his chest grazes mine, my thighs begin to shake, and the pressure in my core builds. He thrusts into me faster, his breaths turning harsh, his movements uneven and jerky, and I come undone, and after a few more pumps, he chases my orgasm with his own.
He slumps across my chest, still inside of me. His face is tucked against mine, his breath warm against my neck and cheek. Our hearts race each other as they settle into a slower tempo. I slide my hands into his hair, mindlessly raking my nails across his scalp, absorbing this moment and the heat and weight of him, basking in my post-orgasm bliss that makes me wish we could stay here all day.
“What if we add another day?” Tyler asks.
“Another day?” Guilt twists in my stomach because I want the same, and yet the idea of missing my invitation seems like such a hefty price.
“We can stay another day in Portland. Do nothing. Just spend the day in the hotel. You and me. I can arrange for us to have our own suite and Coop and Vanessa to have their own as well.”
I weave my fingers in his hair, nodding incessantly. “Can we add a full month?”
He chuckles, the sound rich and deep. “Autumn break. Christmas break. Spring break. Next summer.” He lists the periods off like they’re inevitable. “Weekends,” he adds, running his nose over my skin, evoking a smile. “Hell, you can stay at my place whenever you want. I’ll wake you up with an orgasm every day. Bring you coffee in the shower.” He kisses me again. “Keep you supplied with chocolate filled croissants.”
I groan. “They’re so good.”
His laughter tickles my neck, followed by a soft sigh. “They’re going to be up soon to gather our bags.”
I hate the reminder. I’m not ready to move, and less ready to leave. “Don’t say that.” I turn my face, kissing him. It’s quick and playful, leaving the remnants of a smile on his face that has me doing it again and again, and then he’s kissing me and tickling my sides.
