Chapter Thirteen
“The Perks of Being a Hot Chick”—Posted on the blog of Girl Geek on May 31, 2013
According to statistics, the players of MMORPGs skew much higher toward the male population than the female. But have you ever wondered why, in spite of that fact, there are so many bikini-clad females running around the plains of Yondareth in search of adventure?
There is a young man in my guild who will only play female characters. Every time he is asked why in guild chat, he gives a different answer. Sometimes it’s because he wanted to play in-game with a friend (a female) who had a jealous boyfriend and he didn’t want her to get in trouble. Sometimes he says it’s because if he has to stare at his avatar all day, he’d rather be staring at a lithe, sexy tree elf in a chainmail teddy than at some idiot, doofy dude with a tin can on his head for armor.
But, dear readers, I think I’ve gotten to the bottom of the real reason why he plays girls instead of guys. I have conducted a “scientific experiment” and the results are conclusive. Chicks get more free stuff as beginning characters than their male counterparts.
Case in point: Borrowing my friend’s laptop, I created two different toons on the same server, both exactly the same but for one tiny detail. One was a sexy, scantily clad underdark elf named SmokinHawt, and the other was a gangly, almost adolescent-looking tree elf male who carries a branch as a shield, named Poindexter. In the same newbie area, chopping away at bats, spiders and skeletons, I ran them both around, asking for free stuff.
“Buff pls?” I’d ask the high-level healers for their blessings. Nine times out of ten, SmokinHawt received their beneficence. Seven times out of ten, poor Poindexter was ignored.
“Got any free stuff?” I’d ask while gesturing with submissive actions, bowing, scraping and saluting. SmokinHawt was fully clad in level-appropriate armor within the first hour. Poindexter was given a rusty sword and a dented shield after a few hours of begging.
It didn’t stop there. SmokinHawt got gold, quest items and general pats on the back—along with flirtatious gestures and in-game messages. Poindexter was neglected and died approximately thirteen times.
Thus, after having conducted this thoroughly unscientific double-blind study, I have come to the conclusion that the young men who prefer playing female toons do so for purely mercenary reasons. Because their bank accounts fill up much faster that way!
Gold diggers of Yondareth, beware: I am on to you!
***
We flew first class to St. Lucia a few days later. And I was thankful for that because it was a long trip. From LAX to Miami alone was almost six hours with a layover and then another eight hours on to the Hewanorra International Airport in St. Lucia.
As our plane approached the lush Caribbean island, the first thing I noticed was the gorgeous colors of the water—brilliant blues and bright greens—and then the jagged, pointed mountains, called pitons, all covered in green. And finally the rooftops, each one a different color—turquoise, orange, copper green, red. I sat up with excitement, gazing out the window, my mouth hanging open. I’d always dreamed of seeing the Caribbean. And here I was, stepping into the dream once again.
Adam noticed my excitement, watching me with my face pressed up against the window like a puppy on his first car ride. “Excited?”
“Yes! I even bought a new swimsuit.”
“Good.”
I’d also brought all three of the fancy dresses he’d given me and the adorable sundress that Heath had picked out for me at Harrods.
“Wait till you see where we are staying.”
I turned to him, grinning. “It’s going to be hard to top that place in Amsterdam.”
He smiled. “I agree it would be hard, but this place does. Of course, I may be a little biased because I am a part owner, but it’s a pretty amazing luxury resort. I’ll let you form your own opinion about it.”
Luxury resort.
And he wasn’t kidding about that. Emerald Sky, it was called, and it climbed one of the verdant green hills I had seen from the air, designed to look as if it had sprung from the mountain itself.
Each room was more than a room—it was an entire luxury suite in itself with three walls. The side overlooking the bay was completely open. With warm weather all year round, it wasn’t necessary to enclose them though I did notice brackets for retractable walls in case of storms. Stacked on top of each other and climbing the hill, the suites were also completely private. And the most amazing feature of all: each suite had its own indoor infinity pool.
As an owner, Adam was given one of the two Universe rooms, which, I learned, were the best rooms in the hotel. When we were shown in, I walked around with my mouth wide open. The infinity pool, tiled in glass jewel tones, hung on the edge of the fourth wall and it was bigger than my kitchen. Beside it, there was a table for dining and a seating area. Behind and tucked off into the corner was a king-size bed with pale white netting tied to the four dark wood posts. There was a kitchenette to the rear of the suite and every luxury. Even given the gorgeous blue waters and white sand beaches that looked like they were made out of talcum powder, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to leave the suite.
“This—this is—amazing,” I finally said after Adam had watched me with open amusement as I tripped around the large space, inspecting everything.
“Are you tired? Do you want a nap?”
“I want a swim!” I said.
And he smiled. “We have a reception with the manager of the hotel for dinner, but I’m free until then. And then I’m in meetings most of the day tomorrow, so I made some arrangements with our majordomo for you to have a tour of the area, maybe a little snorkeling if that’s something that interests you.”
I looked down at the rainbow tones of the glass tiles underneath shimmering blue water. “I want to try out this pool.”
He shot me an arresting smile. “Now that I can get interested in.”
I found the bathroom—back behind the bed and a few steps up. It, too, was open to the outside but still quite private, even from someone who was standing below. I quickly changed into my black-and-white bikini—it was gorgeous and made me feel sexy, and it hadn’t been overly expensive. And thanks to another splurge—leg waxing, ouch—and a manicure and pedicure, I felt resplendent, glamorous, full of energy and excitement and not my usual scruffy self. I had stepped into the princess dream again.
I was already in the pool and of course he’d pulled out the dreaded laptop to check on work—lest the world had fallen apart while he was on his flight. I was irritated at first but also relieved that it didn’t take much taunting to entice him into the pool. He changed and got in with me. We swam, talked, flirted.
We talked about the game, of course. He was still clam-mouthed about the clues I wanted, though he wasn’t above throwing more red herrings out with a playful gleam in his eye.
I asked him about his past. “So how did it all start? When did you find out you had a gift with programming?”
He squinted out over the bay, arms hooked over the edge. “We weren’t well-off, after my dad died. And we moved around a lot. Somewhere along the line I acquired this secondhand Gameboy.” He smiled. “That thing was my prized possession, but I only had a few games for it. And I got bored with them after a while. So I hacked into it and started writing my own games.”
My brows shot up. “That’s amazing. How old were you?”
He grimaced. “I’m not going to tell you because then you’ll call me an even bigger nerd.”
I shook my head, laughing. “Not possible. Your nerdness is pretty huge as it is.” And then I blushed, realizing my words could be interpreted another way.
He laughed. “Thank you.”
I splashed him. He splashed back.
“So how old were you?” I asked again.
“I think around ten or so,” he said simply, with no attempt at bragging. Still, that answer blew me away. He responded to my obvious shock. “But I had little else to do. I missed a lot of school in those days because—well, because of the home situation. I had hours and hours to work on it. And I was pretty determined.”
“Ah, so it started young, then.”
“What was that?”
“Your incessant need to always be working.”
He made a face. “It’s not that bad.”
I watched him with open skepticism. “Really? So your family never complains that they don’t see you—that the two times I’ve been with you to family dinner were the first times they’d seen you in months even though you live nearby. Your hundred-hour workweeks all come at a price. You just don’t see it.”
He sobered. “I’ve been better lately. Last few weeks I’ve only clocked in around sixty or so.”
I shook my head in mock wonder. “Only sixty. Such a slacker.” My words were serious but I wanted to lighten the mood so I splashed him again. He sputtered in surprise and then grinned, ducking under the water, shooting straight for my legs. I tried to dart to the side but he grabbed one of them and jerked me back toward him. When we came up for air, we were both laughing and he pressed me to his chest.
When we stopped laughing, he kept me there and my heart slammed against my sternum. No matter how much time we spent together, no matter how much we fooled around, he still had the same effect on me as that first day we’d met. A surge of excitement glided through me, washing over me like a warm tropical rain. Something sparked in his dark eyes and he pulled me to him, bending his head. His mouth met mine in a steamy kiss and I laced my fingers around the back of his neck, returning the passion.
We kissed for long minutes and my hands slipped down his wet chest. He held my upper arms and his body hardened under his trunks. I pulled away. “So we can’t skip dinner, right?”
He shook his head, but he did look regretful.
“Well, then, we should probably get ready.”
He smiled. “Good call.”
***
The reception was a quiet but glamorous event, with select hotel guests, staff and other owners present. It was a black-tie affair, so I got to see Adam in a tuxedo for the first time ever. And he was stunning. I wanted to grab him by his thin satin lapels and pull his mouth to mine.
We had this night and the next two nights together. And I intended to enjoy them. If I could manage to pry him away from work as easily as I had this afternoon, I might just be able to.
Earlier, I’d come out with my updo—a hairstylist had come in to help me with that—along with my makeup, my glamorous high heels and that gorgeous backless black dress. His appreciative eyes had taken me in and it made me tingle from head to toe.
“Emilia, you take my breath away.”
We spent a few hours at the reception. Adam introduced me to many people I would never see again so I didn’t bother trying to remember their names.
Then he left me, to talk business with several of the other owners. Other men tried to approach me but I was good at rebuffing them. If the years of social self-exile on a hip college campus had taught me nothing else, they’d taught me the cool art of the brush-off.
When we returned to the suite, candles were lit, the mosquito netting around the bed had been let down and the covers had been turned back. We gave each other an awkward look. The unresolved sexual tension hung heavy about us and stuck to our skin like the balmy tropical air. Fortunately, we were both exhausted. But what about the days to come? I doubted either one of us had considered the consequences of sharing a bed when it couldn’t lead to anything more.
For bed, I changed into a T-shirt and my underwear and he peeled off everything but his boxer briefs. There were fans in our suite, going night and day, and a slight breeze coming up from the bay, but it was a warm night and we would be sleeping without covers.
Uneasily, we settled on the bed—strangely—on the same sides we had taken that one night we had spent together in his bed. We stayed apart for a long time, but despite our exhaustion, it took awhile to fall asleep.
Hours later, I woke up in his arms and he was kissing my neck. I rolled over and in the dim light saw his eyes widen. “Hi.”
“Hi. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just couldn’t resist a little taste.”
I smiled. “A little taste sounds nice,” I said as I lowered my head and kissed his bare chest. He kissed my hair and I turned my head, looking out over the bay. The light was a steel gray—maybe an hour or two before dawn and everything was still and quiet.
“I’m sorry. I was wide awake,” he whispered.
“Are you bored?”
He sighed. “I don’t get it. It’s only two a.m. at home. I can’t sleep.”
“What are you thinking about? Work?”
His dark eyes were enigmatic. “No. I was wondering what happens when we get home.”
I hesitated. Did he know that I’d planned to end it after this? Or had he come to the same decision I had? My heart sped up a beat. “You mean with us?”
“Yes.”
I cleared my throat. I didn’t want him to know that I had returned the money until we got home. I didn’t want him to know I’d decided this wasn’t good for either of us. That it would be easier for us to go back to our former lives. That I’d find another way to go to med school.
“Let’s not think about it now. There’s plenty of time later.”
“I can’t not think about it.”
“Think about something else—like… how good it feels when I kiss you all over your yummy chest.” And I did just that, mouth gliding over his hard muscles, tasting him everywhere.
He let out a long breath, clearly enjoying it, and I paid great attention to every nuanced detail, every solid hill and creased valley. He cleared his throat. “That is something very nice to think about.”
He tried to sit up, attempting to gain control of the situation, but I pushed him back down again and he grinned. “About to ravish me, are you?”
I kissed my way down his abdomen, over his perfect six-pack. “Can you ravish the willing?”
“Good point,” he said with a dry laugh.
His briefs were tenting with his arousal and I rubbed the taut ridge before reaching into his underwear.
“We seem to have a big problem here.”
His lips were on my breast when he started laughing.
I rubbed again. “Yes. A very, very big problem.”
“What does the doctor prescribe?”
“Friction. Lots of friction will reduce this swelling.”
His eyes darkened. “I can get behind that treatment.”
I laughed. “I’m sure you can.” I tugged on his briefs and he took a moment to shuck them.
“Yours come off, too,” he said.
I sat up, pulling off my T-shirt and panties. His hands grasped my hips, then traveled up my waist, heading right for his favorite place.
I pulled his hands away. “I believe I was in the middle of prescribing treatment.”
He smiled and lay back. “As the doctor commands.”
I leaned forward again and kissed him over his chest—quickly this time and then down, over his flat, muscular stomach. And, then, gathering my courage, I traveled even lower.
My hand encircled the base of his shaft and quickly, furtively, I touched my mouth to the soft skin.
He sucked in an entire chestful of air and sat up immediately. I didn’t pull away.
“Don’t do this.”
Defiantly, I lowered my mouth, taking the entire tip of his erection between my lips.
“Emilia—” he said shakily. “You don’t have to do this.”
I pulled my head away. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. Just…whatever you do please don’t put your hands in my hair.”
He didn’t move for a moment and I still held him in a tight grip at his base. Slowly he relaxed and lay back. I said, “Just enjoy.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to tell me to do that,” he breathed.
And tentatively, I lowered my mouth again, trying to ignore the quick rush of my heartbeat. This fear was a barrier, a hurdle that I needed to overcome. I needed to lose myself in the moment and dispel the past, realize that I was giving pleasure to someone I cared about and I need not be afraid.
But the cold dread was there when bits from that past scene flashed into my memory—memories of gagging and sobbing. I closed my eyes, blacked them out, concentrated, breathed through the panic that threatened to rise up at the very back of my conscious. My therapist had taught me some techniques and I rarely had to use them anymore, except for in triggering situations. And this could be one.
Fear was a hurdle—an obstacle whose greatest power was in keeping me locked in to one place, one moment in time. I focused on the positives of this particular situation, of the throaty gasps of my partner, who was obviously enjoying himself. Of the rush of power, knowing I was making him feel this way. That I was on top and I was controlling the situation. I could pull myself away whenever I wanted.
Soon my mouth sank lower, taking more of him in, my tongue running along his length. His hands grasped at the bedsheets, his legs tensed. My hand tightened around him. I hesitated, wondering what the culmination would be—would he give me warning? Would I be able to pull away in time—or would I want to? I hadn’t even decided yet.
Instead of worrying about answering those questions, I concentrated on the now, losing myself in this moment so that I had no awareness of the passage of time, of how long it had taken to bring him to this point. All I knew was that his deep breaths and hoarse murmurings of my name tore currents of desire through me, each one of them a pebble dropped into deep waters, my soul rippling from their centers.
I moved my mouth up and down until suddenly he tensed, sitting up. He moved my head away and grasped himself. He came on my breasts and stomach instead of in my mouth. His protectiveness warmed my heart. And I thought back over his behavior since the beginning, from that strange moment on the terrace of the penthouse in Amsterdam. He’d been like this from the start—even when he didn’t know me very well.
A few minutes later, in the shower, I told him. “You are a very special man, Adam Drake.”
He looked at me for a moment, hesitating as he washed his hair. “What did I do wrong now?”
I laughed. “No. I mean—just—thank you for being you. I know that sounds corny, but that’s exactly what I wanted to say.” I moved up to him and kissed him soundly and then backed away. He resumed washing his hair, watching me, a smile on his sexy lips.
We kissed each other good-bye—I in my beach cover-up and bathing suit, ready for my day tour, and he in his business suit, sans the jacket. Before he walked out the door, I blotted some perspiration off his forehead.
“Thanks, dear,” he muttered in parody and kissed me as he left.
And I enjoyed my day, taking in the snow-white beaches and even doing a little snorkeling. My guide took me to the beautiful Diamond Falls, a gorgeous cataract that fell down multicolored rocks and shimmered in the early afternoon sun. I savored the stunning scenery of this pristine Caribbean island, even though the heat was considerable.
I made it back to the suite by about four o’clock. Knowing that Adam would be returning to dress for dinner, I wanted to be ready. I put on the cute little sundress from London and the matching shoes, brushed out my hair and pulled it back and applied a little makeup to go with my brand new tan from the afternoon.
I was in the bathroom finishing up when he entered. I hurried with the finishing touch of my lip gloss and skipped down the stairs to greet him.
The first thing that clued me in that something was wrong was the stiffness in his shoulders, his jerky movements as he set down his laptop case on the nearby desk, unbuttoned his vest and undid his tie. I hesitated behind him, certain he’d heard me. But he made no acknowledgment.
I took a deep breath. “Hard day?”
He didn’t look at me but his hand stopped for a moment before resuming. “It was a pleasant and easy set of meetings. It’s been a very good day, actually.” But the tone of his voice belied him. It did not match his words. “Things were going well, until I checked my e-mail.”
I puzzled at that. “Bad news from home?”
He continued to avoid my gaze, rolling his tie so it wouldn’t crease and then laying it aside with care. “It was an e-mail from Heath Bowman, actually.”
I swallowed in a tight throat, heart thumping with sudden worry. “Is he okay? Was he trying to get hold of me?” Adam unbuttoned his cuffs and the first few buttons on his shirt. When he turned to me, his face was stern—and he looked very much like the asshat I’d first met at that hotel in Costa Mesa over a month ago.
“He’s just fine. But he had a lot to say to me—ranting about shit that I had no idea was going on. And I’m not a person that takes kindly to being left in the dark.”
I tried to think of what Heath could have written to piss Adam off so badly. Then, with a sinking feeling, I remembered my last conversation with Heath—where I’d asked him to refuse the money. God-damn it, Heath. His timing sucked.
I folded my arms defensively across my chest. “What did he say that has you so pissed off?”
He shrugged stiffly. “You tell me. You seem to know a lot more about what’s going on here between us than I do.”
A dark feeling of foreboding fell on me like a blanket. I shifted my stance. “Yeah, there’s…probably more than one thing you could be pissed about.”
His gaze sharpened. “Thanks, Emilia,” he said tightly before walking off and disappearing into the bathroom.
Shit. I ran to my bag and fished out my phone, frantic to bring up my e-mails before he came back. Maybe Heath had cc’d me on the message he’d sent to Adam or at least deigned to tell me what he’d meant to accomplish by e-mailing Adam. This was the first time since arriving that I’d even looked at the damn phone. But the reception on this side of the hotel was crappy and my little loading symbol spun and spun without ever updating. When I heard him behind me I jumped and dropped the phone onto the nearby chair.
I turned, tucking a strand of errant hair behind my ear. His vest was off and the glimpse of his strong neck and chest where his shirt opened drew my eyes. I swallowed. I didn’t want this confrontation. Not now. Goddamn it. I didn’t want it ever, actually. I’d just wanted to fade back into the woodwork—let my fairy tale dissipate and go back to my normal life without ever having to deal with this unpleasantness.
I cleared my throat. “Okay, first, about the money…”
He looked at me expectantly but he said nothing, waiting for me to continue.
“After our conversation the night I stayed over at your house, I decided—I mean, I figured we wouldn’t go through with this, right? So—so I thought it was best to have the money sent back to your account. I asked Heath to do it. No—no services rendered, no payment. And this whole fucked-up thing can just fade away and we won’t have to—”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t want that money back.”
A fist closed at my side. His eyes darted to it. “Well, tough shit. You’re getting it back.”
He sighed and looked away, out over the bay. “It’s not prostitution if we don’t sleep together.”
I shook my head. “Um, no. Wrong. You sent me money. We’ve been fooling around. It is prostitution. I obviously don’t have the same problem with it that you do, so don’t turn this around on me. I’m doing you a favor by calling this off.”
He blinked. “The auction was for your virginity.”
“That’s a clear-cut argument, if you’re splitting hairs.” I raised my hand and jutted a finger toward his solid chest. “You keep saying that you’re the one in control of this situation and yet you have been losing control all along and that’s the real reason you’re pissed.”
His jaw set but he stood absolutely still. A fist of foreboding closed over my chest. He wore that strangely calculating expression—the one that meant he was thinking about ten other things alongside the conversation he was currently having.
When he spoke, it was with a quiet, even voice despite the anger in his eyes. “If you sent the money back, there is no deal now.”
I shifted my stance, feeling like a dragonfly about to be lured into a spider’s web. “That’s right. The deal is canceled.”
His eyes met mine, hard as flint. “So what about this bullshit about not seeing each other again when we return home?”
I exhaled. “That was always part of the agreement—”
He made a chopping gesture with his hand. “But you just said there is no agreement.”
I shook my head. “There’s no future for us. I mean, given how we first met and the arrangement and how everything has turned out. Heath said it best and I ignored him for so long. It’s sick. This is sick.”
The flush crept up from his jaw into his chiseled cheeks. “And what the hell does Heath know about us? I mean about what’s really going on here. He doesn’t. So why are you letting his opinions influence you? Why are you listening to him and not to me?”
I lowered my face, put my hand to my forehead. I couldn’t say the words that were almost on my lips. Because I can’t trust you. Now it was my turn to remain silent. Because honestly, I had no words and I could feel his agitation mounting no matter how much he fought to appear calm.
“So everything that’s gone down between us is sick? What happened in that bed this morning was sick?” He spoke in an even voice that was taut, edgy. A vein at his temple throbbed.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then what is this all about? Do you want to end this?”
“I don’t even know what ‘this’ is! What is there to end?” I finally said. Then I cleared my throat, my arms stiffening with indignation. “This was you…bidding on an auction for some unknown reason—an auction that you fundamentally cannot believe in. And then prolonging the outcome for as long as you can. You’ve manipulated this all along and now you are asking me to trust you? To listen to you? You should have let me go at the beginning so I could go through with this with someone else.”
He swallowed. “It’s not too late,” he finally said. It sounded like the words had been torn from him.
My chin came up and I folded my arms across my chest, his words stinging me like a shower of sharp pebbles. “You’re right. It isn’t.”
But my chest felt heavy. Because I wanted him, now. I wanted the experience to be with him and I couldn’t name why. The thought of going out and finding someone else—maybe Mr. New York or some Arab sheik or something—actually left me with a sick feeling.
If I couldn’t use him for the money, then maybe I could use him for the experience my body had been craving since he first touched me.
He moved up to me then, with hard eyes and stiff posture, a hand working at his side. He looked into my eyes, first one and then the other.
“Emilia,” he breathed. My eyes fluttered closed. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and tilted my face to him. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted this tension between us to ease. And the fierce ache rising up from the center of my being told me I wanted his hands, his body on mine. No more talking. No more arguing. No more discussion of a “deal.”
As if he read my thoughts, his mouth sank to mine, his hand steadying me at the back of my neck, curving around my bare flesh there. Goose bumps prickled down my arms and legs.
His kiss was so overpowering, it sucked me into him—like I was caught inside a raging hurricane, wrapped inside this force of nature called Adam and could not find my way out. When he straightened, we were both panting. “There,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Would you mind telling me what was ‘sick’ about that?”
I fought for breath and he pulled me to him again, another powerful, consuming kiss. I shivered in his arms and his hands went to my shoulders. With two swift movements, he pushed my sundress off my shoulders and it slid to the floor. His mouth was on my neck, running his tongue and lips along the sensitive skin. The touch struck molten sparks through my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck. One of his arms locked around my waist. The other went around to the back of my bra, unfastening it easily.
“I need you,” he said.
My eyes closed and my body heeded his call. “We shouldn’t,” but my voice was weak, faltering, because I could not put the full force of my belief behind it. His mouth, hands and tongue were too convincing otherwise.
His head came up, taking my ear between his lips, running his tongue over the lobe. Heat shot through my body. “Can you deny this?” he said in a harsh whisper. “Can you just walk away from whatever this is between us?”
And then he backed toward the bed, tugging me along with him. I stepped out of my shoes. My nerves drew taut like harp strings. His eyes were flame and frost from one moment to the next—anger, passion, pure lust.
“I’m going to show you what we can be like together.”
He pulled me to him again and we kissed and my body responded to the sensual promise in those words. I trembled. “You’ll hate yourself if you do this.”
“I’ll hate myself more if I don’t,” he said between clenched teeth.
He turned and laid me gently on the bed. Wearing nothing but panties, I looked up at him, feeling vulnerable as his burning eyes raked over me. They scorched me like errant embers from a bonfire and he made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and losing it, along with his pants.
He freed his erection from his underwear and he was naked. My breathing slowed. He was beautiful—every developed crease, every curve of firm, packed muscle. His ready shaft, a potent reminder of his maleness.
“Take off your underwear,” he said. And slowly, my eyes locked on his, I did. Somewhere in the back of my mind I doubted where this was appearing to go. We had been here before—several times—and he had always pulled away, always stopped himself with an iron grip on his self-control. It would happen again, despite that ragged wildness I saw deep in his black eyes. He’d fight for control and he’d win. And he’d do nothing he’d regret.
Under his scrutiny, my nipples came to hard points and damp heat pooled between my legs. Slowly, he lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed, running an almost reverential hand over my breasts, my belly, my thighs, my sex. “So beautiful, Emilia. You are so damn beautiful.”
I closed my eyes. I’d just been thinking the same about him. “Thank you.”
He took a deep breath and spoke the words haltingly, as if some part of him still fought and struggled to keep them inside. “If you tell me right now you don’t want it, we won’t do this.”
My gaze fixed on his, unwavering. It was time to tell the truth. The consequences be damned. “I want this, Adam. Not because of money, and not because anyone is making me. I want it because I want it.”
He moved so fast it was almost a blur. He was on top of me in seconds holding my arms against the mattress as his body pressed me down. His mouth was on mine again, but at that moment, I realized it wasn’t going to be long. He wouldn’t spend another second on foreplay because we’d been engaging in the most frustrating game of foreplay for a month.
He nudged my knees apart and I spread them for him. He stared into my eyes, just like he’d said he would. I’m going to watch your face when you take it in. And in one sure, confident move, without any more hesitation, he pushed himself inside me and there was nothing slow about it. His body was so hot, as if he was on fire.
I tried not to stiffen from the sharp pain I felt as he penetrated me. He saw my face, my widening eyes. He felt me tense underneath him, but he didn’t pull back. He pushed in without letting up, as if once having decided to travel down this path, he wouldn’t turn away from it.
Soon he’d eased himself all the way in and he paused, still watching me closely. “You all right?”
I didn’t speak, just nodded. His hands gripped mine, and our fingers entwined. His mouth connected with mine, our tongues twisting around each other. And he began to move. I’ll admit, there was more than a little pain. He felt very big inside me as my body stretched around him. But as he maintained his gentle rhythm, there was something else there. A deep, fulfilling pleasure. A feeling of ultimate connection. Not just at the juncture of our bodies but our hands, our mouths. I’d never felt physically a part of someone else as much as I did at this moment.
And the erotic slide of him deep inside me, with each thrust, spoke of possession and belonging. He possessed me and belonged to me. I did the same.
Soon his movements came faster, more urgently, his eyes closed in concentration. He released my hands, rising up on his elbows, watching me again. The changed angle relieved some of the pressure, and sharp, breath-stealing pleasure shot through me, erasing the discomfort.
I found myself urging Adam to continue doing what he was doing, telling him how good it felt. When I moaned his name, it seemed to put him over the edge. He plunged into me, pushing his hips flush against mine, penetrating deeper than before. I caught my breath, somewhere on the threshold of pleasure and pain. He stopped, his breath coming so fast it was difficult for him to speak. “I’m not coming until you do.”
He reared up so that he was on his knees and continued. I gasped. His strokes came fast and steady, as he recognized that I was close. I squeezed my eyes closed, concentrating on that wave of ecstasy rising up inside me. The only thing in my awareness at that moment was the feel of Adam’s shaft sliding inside me.
My back arched off the bed and I was coming in body-convulsing waves of sheer gratification. Only a few more strokes and Adam was coming, too, pushing himself as deep as he could go. His orgasm tore through me as if it was my own.
He lay on me for a minute or two after it was done. I wrapped my legs around him, now cherishing the feel of him inside me. When his eyes finally opened, he looked into mine and lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me again.
We lay in each other’s embrace for long, quiet moments before I finally cleared my throat. “I think I should get up and shower.”
He nodded, scooting aside to allow me to rise. When we left the bed, I noticed he’d stopped to stare at the bedspread. Looking back, I saw a small bloodstain there. A strange look crossed his face and he ran a hand through his hair, then reached out and yanked the counterpane off the bed, tossing it into the corner. Minutes later, he joined me in the shower. He was still strangely quiet and we both had receded into our own worlds. No fun scrubbing each other this time.
We’d crossed a threshold we could never uncross. We’d taken a step that could never be untaken—that small evidence of a permanent change in my body was also evidence of a change in us. In who we were, both to ourselves and to each other.
Adam washed quickly and got out, wrapping a towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom. But I lingered, soaping myself slowly, focusing on the soreness between my legs, examining my own feelings. I was different now. It was just a bit of skin, like I’d always imagined. But when I’d imagined how it would be, I’d always thought nothing would change. Feelings wouldn’t change.
But this was different. These growing feelings for Adam were the biggest reason. No, Mia. Stupid girl. I swallowed a sob in the shower as that realization rose up in me. I could love Adam. But I wouldn’t allow it because it went against everything I’d stood for—for so long. I was Mia, the girl who stayed single by choice. The woman who would always take care of herself, because I didn’t need anyone to save me. I saved myself.
The thought of never seeing him after this weekend cut a deep and painful trench into me. But I knew it had to happen—and it had to happen before these feelings made me dependent on him. A wave of sudden pain lanced through me like a lightning bolt. The feelings would pass. They were fleeting, I reminded myself. I would stand firm to my decision.
And after all, what the hell were we doing here? He didn’t want this any more than I did! There was no reason for me to feel guilty. He was an empty, loveless workaholic who got his needs seen to by fuck buddies. My heart was racing again. I left the shower on shaky legs—and only because my fingers and toes were starting to shrivel.
You aren’t going to sleep with him in St. Lucia, are you? Heath’s words came back to me like a sharp slap. I froze, placing my own addendum to Heath’s admonition—because that would be a big mistake. I shook my head—it was too late for self-recriminations.
But I still had a choice. We could enjoy our last day and a half here and call it quits after. I was no longer getting paid for the job but I had enjoyed it nonetheless. There was nothing wrong with enjoying another day of it.
When I dressed and went out to the main room, almost dreading to see him again, I could tell by his quiet demeanor that similar thoughts had run through his head. He was dressed in khakis and a red T-shirt bearing a Star Trek logo and the word “expendable” printed across his chest. His feet were bare and he sat in front of the open laptop, typing away at that maddening pace, the glow of the screen falling across his handsome features.
Without looking up, he asked, “You hungry? I was going to order room service.”
I didn’t answer, but walked over to the menu to look it over. Nothing looked appetizing but I knew—I knew—that if I didn’t order, he’d think I was pining or regretful or whatever. The key was to act natural. Act like nothing had happened.
Fuck. As if.
“It all looks froufrou.” I said by way of excuse.
He looked up. Maybe he felt insulted. He was an owner here, after all. “You can order whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be on the menu. You want a steak or something? That’s probably what I’m going to order. I’m famished.”
I shrugged. “Sure.” But the thought of a heavy steak in my stomach right now made it twist with disgust.
He went back to typing. “I’ll send the order in right now through the web page.”
I hesitated, hit with a wave of irritation. “Are you working?”
He didn’t look up. “Yup. Just thought I’d peek in at what’s going on with the progress of our European launch.”
I frowned. Work hadn’t been on the schedule for this evening. Yet he’d logged in the first chance he could get after we’d—after…
What was this heavy feeling in my chest? I shot a glare at him. He was pulling away from me, and he was using work to do it. Just like he had with everyone else in his life—his friends, his beloved family members. Why did I think I would be immune from this treatment?
His behavior stung. He went back to typing, clicking away on his keys, never pulling his head away from his work, giving his complete attention to it. I wasn’t the type of person who needed someone’s undivided attention all the time. In fact, since I’d never desired a relationship, I was pretty low-maintenance when it came to that.
But given what had just happened between us for the first time, and my first time ever, I would have thought he’d be more attentive. Or at least, that’s what I would have liked. Instead, I got a wall of silence. He was a tortoise retreating into the hard, impenetrable protection that was work.
The worst came minutes later, however, when dinner arrived. The majordomo laid it out at our table just at the edge of the patio overlooking the bay. Adam ignored both of us as he continued to work. I busied myself by trying to get my e-mail to finally download on my phone. Nothing from Heath at all.
When the majordomo left, I sat down at the table and looked at Adam. “Your food’s getting cold.”
He typed for just a minute more and then approached the table. “I’m starving,” he muttered. Then he picked up the plate and his utensils and took them back to his desk, leaving me there to eat alone.
My jaw dropped but he didn’t notice because he cut a piece of steak, popped it into his mouth and returned to his work. From my angle, all I could see on his screen was a bunch of incomprehensible symbols and commands. He was working on some kind of program.
My gut burned. I tried to examine the reasons behind my anger. I felt brushed aside, used. He’d gotten what he’d wanted and moved on. I was a nonperson now. Couldn’t I at least be a friend? Why shower all this attention on me and then the minute we were intimate, ignore me? It made me wonder if that’s what it had been like with my mom and the Biological Sperm Donor. He’d used her, too. And then he’d set her aside like she’d never existed when he had no further use for her.
With a jolt of fury, I stood up from my nearly untouched plate, unwilling to mull any of this over in silence and watch his weird way of brooding. I went to the bathroom and grabbed my swimsuit.
When I came back, he glanced up from the screen questioningly but said nothing. I pretended not to notice.
I waded into the pool, which really was too short for laps, but I couldn’t think of any other way to work out this restless energy short of leaving the room. If I did that I’d be sending him a signal. That I resented or regretted what had happened between us. And I didn’t. But I did resent his current behavior. If he wanted to ignore me, fine. I could do the exact same thing.
I pondered all of this, as I continued my short lapping—four strokes, turn, catch breath, four strokes turn. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was starting to make me dizzy and I had no idea how long I’d been at it when I felt a strong hand wrap around my upper arm, pulling me to a halt. I came up sputtering. He was standing beside me in the pool.
“What the hell?” I said.
“I kept calling you and you wouldn’t stop. How long do you plan to keep at this?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. How long do you plan to blow me off?”
He shot me a sharp look. “I’m blowing you off? Why do you think that?”
I wiped the water out of my face. “Maybe because you wired in the first chance you could get and you’re eating dinner over your keyboard. You might do that all the time when you’re alone, but in company, it’s pretty bad manners. And because you’re not talking and I have no idea what is going through your head.”
He looked away but not before I noticed irritation on his face.
I continued. “Please don’t tell me you treated your other fuck buddies that way.”
“You’re not a fuck buddy.”
I pulled my arm free, turned and pushed over to the edge of the infinity pool, looking out over the dark bay. The distant crash of the ocean and smell of salt rose up on the breeze. From behind me he sighed. “I’m sorry you thought I was blowing you off.”
My face flushed hot with anger. “Not an apology. Don’t bother wasting your breath with that bullshit. Do you have any idea how it makes me feel that you would just ignore me like that after we—after what happened between us? Like yesterday’s forgotten trash.”
He came up beside me, hooking his muscular arms over the edge, careful not to touch me. He looked into my face, I kept staring out over the bay. “I’m sorry,” he said after some long, tense moments. “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. It’s something I do when—when I’m thinking.”
I took a deep breath, the tight anger only easing a tiny increment. I looked at him then. He’d shucked his shirt and pants and it looked like he’d jumped into the water in his underwear. “Then talk to me. Tell me what you are thinking about.”
He paused. “I was thinking about how I never intended for it to go this far.”
A band tightened around my chest. “So you are feeling regretful. Guilty that it happened.”
“No,” he said, turning to me. “I’m feeling regretful and guilty that I enjoyed it so much I want to do it again.”
A new tension thickened between us. I struggled for breath, because I felt the exact same way. “But you won’t?”
He looked out over the bay. “It was never supposed to go this far,” he repeated.
Though I hated how he dealt with his inner conflict by shutting me out, I found that inner conflict utterly a reflection of his goodness. He wasn’t using me. He was afraid of using me. He wasn’t disregarding me. He was holding my feelings in such regard that he was denying his own. How could I be angry with that?
“But it did. And there’s nothing to regret in that. There was no ‘deal.’ There were no principles violated. The money—”
“To hell with the money, Emilia. I don’t give a shit about the money.”
I turned to him, clearing my throat. “Here’s the deal, Adam. You are acting like you did something wrong, like you ‘took’ something from me or somehow despoiled me. You know what? It’s our culture that leads men to think like that…that purity in a woman is the ultimate prize.”
He grimaced. “You sound like your Manifesto, now.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t just write those words for the hell of it. I believed them. My purity was worth no more than yours or anyone else’s. I just happened to be a lot older than most when I finally—”
“Gave it up?”
“Gave it away. And it means nothing more than that. You did me a favor.”
He gritted his teeth so that the muscles in his jaw bulged.
I continued. “I enjoyed myself. You said you enjoyed yourself. What is there to regret or feel guilty over?”
“What comes next,” he stated flatly. “It’s the way I think. I’m a programmer before I’m anything else. Everything in programming is cause and effect. What are the possibilities that spring from each and every line of code? What will spring from this?”
“Stop thinking fifty steps ahead of this one. Just think about the one thing that comes next. What do you think that is?”
His eyes roamed my face. “If I had my way? It would be me fucking you again.” His eyes lowered to my lips.
I stopped breathing, heart rushing with excitement. We stared at each other in silence for a long moment before I spoke. “I think that sounds like a pretty good step.”
He hooked his arm around my waist, jerked me flush against him. My body came alive with the feel of his hardness. We held each other for long moments. Then he slowly, sensuously began to kiss my neck.
“Damn it, Emilia,” he breathed. “How did you strip me bare so quickly?”
I reached up, holding his rough face in my hands and we kissed.
He kissed me long, tenderly. Our tongues slowly played against each other. Desire arced through me like lightning across a mountain sky. The touch was jagged, searing. His hands were on my back, untying my bikini top, sliding to my breasts.
“How is it possible that I want you more now than I did this afternoon?” he growled against my neck.
I pulled myself up, hooking my legs around his waist and we continued to kiss. The tightly packed muscles in his back roiled under my hands.
“We were both very eager.”
He pulled back to look at me. “I’m not sure how eager you were,” he breathed, a smile quivering on his lips. “I got the sense that you were lying back and thinking of medical school.”
I laughed. “Hardly.”
“I had to fight with myself not to start again the minute it finished. I wanted you so much that I knew once wouldn’t be enough.”
His words stole the air right out of my lungs. My body was responding with scorching fire, tightening tension.
“I’m going to do it again, Emilia. And again.”
His hands were on my hips and I freed my legs so he could yank down my swimsuit bottom. Would we even bother to leave the pool? His fingers rubbed my sex as he sucked my nipples. I fell slack in his arms, focused on the searing pleasure commanding all my senses. The taste of his wet skin, the feel of his taut muscles, the smell of him. He continued to rub and I began the inevitable climb toward orgasm. My hands clamped on his shoulders and I threw my head back, calling his name.
He stopped. I suppressed a yelp of frustration. He said, “Turn around and put your hands on the edge.”
I stepped back and looked into his face. An animal hunger—something I hadn’t seen in his eyes before—glowed there.
“Do it.”
The thrill of anticipation jacked up several notches with his command. I turned and placed my hands on the edge of the pool, feeling very exposed. I was naked, looking out over emptiness. No one could see us. We were in total privacy. Adam bent and kissed the nape of my neck, my ears, my back, his hands coming up to cup my breasts and knead them gently, rolling the nipples over in his hands. I gasped and arched against him, reaching behind me to hook my arms around his neck.
“Back on the edge, Emilia. Keep them there.”
Slowly. Very slowly. I obeyed. He grabbed my hips and pulled them against him. He was naked now, and his erection pressed against me. I gasped.
But when I thought he would enter me, he didn’t. He slid his shaft along the seam of my sex, reaching around my front with one hand to press down on my swollen flesh, now fully aroused. And he began to rub against me both from the front and from behind.
The feeling was exquisite and soon the quick build of tension between my legs increased, bunching in my belly, heating my insides. I was about to come—the orgasm just beyond my reach.
He stopped again. “Adam!” I cried.
“What?” he whispered hoarsely in my ear.
“Stop playing around, for fuck’s sake,” I growled.
“Tell me what you want. Exactly what you want.” He punctuated the command by pressing down on my clitoris again, as if I needed reminding that it was there. I stiffened against him.
“I want your cock. I want it inside of me.”
“And then what?”
“I want you to slide it in and out until I come,” I panted.
I stopped breathing when I felt the tip of him at my entrance. “Ask me nicely.”
“Fuck me.”
“Nicely, Emilia.”
“Fuck me, please.”
Without another word he slid into me—pushing in so quickly that my entire body froze. The water lapped up and over the edge of the pool with the force of his movement and I gasped. His chest pushed against me until I was bent forward and he began to move, his chin resting against the top of my head.
He grabbed one of my hands and pressed it, under his, against my sex. “Touch yourself here.”
And I did, and the combination of these two sensations—of him sliding inside of me from behind, and the pressure on that bundle of nerves in the front—soon had me panting.
I was still sore from the last time but that did not detract from the incredible pleasure building inside me. It built more quickly, more intensely than before. I let out a shout. He slammed into me from behind, faster and faster, the water splashing all around us.
And I was coming. And this time in hot, urgent pulses that temporarily kept me from breathing. He pushed himself in deep and let out a harsh groan and he was coming, too.
When he withdrew, I was bent against the edge of the pool, gasping for breath. He pulled me up against him, holding me to him from behind. “You swallow some water?”
I shot him a glare of mock annoyance. “I guess I didn’t need to walk for a few days, anyway.”
His chest rumbled against my back. “I can just carry you everywhere.”
And with that he picked me up and carried me out of the pool. We dripped everywhere, as he swerved around the bed and right toward the bathroom.
This was a dream. And I never wanted to wake up. His arms were a haven around me, soothing me, giving me a sense that I was safe within them. But my heart couldn’t help but rebel—reject the new home it was being offered. It had lived imprisoned inside its own fortress for too long. I had thrown away the key to that lock years ago. Even if I wanted to, I doubted I could muster the ability to find it.
Later, I gnawed on my cold steak. I couldn’t get it down fast enough, I was so hungry.
“You know, they can heat that up for you or fire you a new one,” he said, approaching in a white terry robe, his magnificent chest peeking from its opening.
“I just made a cold steak sandwich with my roll.” I held it up for his inspection and he took a bite, nodding his head after a minute.
“That’s not bad.”
“Get your own.”
“I’m not hungry anymore. For food, anyway.” He shot me a meaningful look.
“If you are hungry for anything else, it’s going to be a while before I can recharge.”
He glanced at the clock. “It’s not too late to go out. Do you want to go up on the patio for dessert or a glass of wine?”
I eyed the bed longingly. “I’m worn out. I’m going to go to bed, I think. You go ahead, if you want.”
He looked at me then. “I’m going to clear my schedule tomorrow.”
I smiled. Had I gotten through to him? “Thank you.”
“I’m not familiar with many of the local sights as I don’t usually play tourist when I come. But I know there are many good places to visit.”
“From the little I saw today, there are. It will be great to finally spend some time with you.” Though whether it was in bed or out and about, I wasn’t sure I cared, at this point.
He grimaced as if in regret. “Yeah, I’m sorry. But this was a business trip and I only get down here once a year at most.”
Maybe I hadn’t gotten through to him after all. I struggled to hide my disappointment. “Sure,” I said, nodding overenthusiastically. “I get it.” Work always came first. That was his indirect message and I thought of Lindsay’s question, Has he stood you up for work, yet? As if any woman in Adam’s life would have to accept that in order to have him. Well, not me.
“I think I’ll take a short walk.” He changed into his clothes and I pulled on my T-shirt and brushed my teeth, collapsing into bed. I knew damn well that he wasn’t strolling the deck. He’d grabbed a flash drive and stuck it in his pocket when he thought I wasn’t looking. He was headed to the resort’s business center to log in from there. If I were a gambling person, I would have bet on it.
Hours later, I was vaguely aware of him coming to bed. After a moment, I felt his warm breath near my neck. He planted a kiss on my cheek before rolling over to sleep.