Chapter Ten

Isabella

I wake the next morning in his massive bed, alone and aching all over in the most delicious ways possible.

I roll over onto my side, taking inventory of my jelly filled limbs and pounding head, still objecting to the amount of wine I’d consumed.

The room is bright as the daylight pours in, the panoramic view of the bay before me simply breathtaking. As tempted as I might be, I know walking to the edge of the window isn’t something I’m capable of just yet. Instead, I sit up slowly, holding the front of his sheet over my bare breasts as the remaining fabric pools low around my waist and take in the view of the city I’d been far too distracted to appreciate last night.

Last night…

As the memory of him inside me, claiming me, taking me… It all flashes back into my mind and I can’t help the low whimper that leaves my lips.

Being with Adam was by far one of the most erotic things I’ve ever experienced. On a carnal level, there was nothing to regret, but on a logical level?

Jesus, Isabella, I think to myself. You fucked your boss.

“What the hell were you thinking you stupid, stupid girl?” I whisper, rubbing my palms over my face in mortification.

I give myself the much needed few minutes of self-loathing I tend to reserve for monumental fuck-ups such as these. I know I have to get out of here. I know the idea of standing my boss up the morning after I’ve fucked him is probably among my worst to date, but if I’m going down, it may as well be with a bang… well, another one anyway.

I listen carefully for any sign of him on the other side of his cracked bedroom door, but am met with silence. Surely he’s out there somewhere. He isn’t stupid enough to leave me here alone. For all he knows, I’m a crazy stalker or a raging klepto. I can’t imagine you find yourself spearheading a multi-billion dollar company in your early thirties by making dumb decisions like that.

Before I’ve etched out the details of my master escape, my bladder has had enough and tugs my thoughts in a more basic direction.

I have to pee.

I have to pee and while only seconds ago I’d been thankful there had been no sign of Adam, I’m now cursing the fact as my eyes search for any promise of a bathroom.

I find three doors, the irony of that number not escaping me as I try to decide which one to choose. Briefly recalling he stepped into one last night before I’d had so many orgasms I’m sure I blacked out, I decide my fate and slip from the bed, sheet still in tow. I shuffle across the cold marble, trying me best to move silently. Regardless of the fact that I can still taste the salt of his skin on my lips and the reminder of having him inside me is all I can think of, there’s something ridiculously yet completely terrifying on such a basic level about him finding me lost in his penthouse wearing only a bedsheet.

Shaking the thought, I twist the knob and pull the door open, unable to stifle the quiet gasp of surprise when the distinct smell of leather and the sound of metal clanking against the back of the door cause me to glance up.

This is definitely not his bathroom.

“Holy…”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to open that door, Isabella,” he says low from behind me, making me jump in surprise as I turn to face him.

“I have to pee,” I blurt, my cheeks heating as I take in his smoldering expression, his still bare chest and his messy I-just-fucked-my-employee-into-oblivion-all-night hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know which door was the bathroom.”

He stares back at me for a moment, seeming to search my features, for what I’ve no idea, before slowly closing the distance between us and shutting the still opened door behind me. As the latch catches, the tassels from the flogger that will be forever engrained in my mind brushes against the door and I swallow hard before bravely moving my eyes back to his. He glances over his shoulder at me, his hot breath fresh with the scent of mint.

“The bathroom is right over here,” he says quietly, gesturing for me to follow him to the second door. I can’t keep my eyes off of him as he moves fluidly across the room in a pair of tight boxer briefs. Jesus. He pushes it open, his eyes following my movements as I step over the threshold. “Feel free to shower. Towels are on the counter and there’s a robe on the back of the door.”

“Thanks,” I manage with a nod, stepping inside and waiting for him to close the door before I let my eyes shut tight.

Flashes of what was behind that door, the taste of his breath mixed with the smell of the leather invade my senses, making me clench my thighs together slightly as it all clicks neatly into place.

“No wonder he’s good with locks,” I whisper to myself, my cheeks heating as the words slip past my lips.

I shake my head clear and move toward the sink, cringing when I take in my wild hair and the smeared makeup leftover from the night before.

“Jesus, I look like a train wreck,” I shudder, dropping the sheet and eagerly moving toward the massive glass shower once I’ve shut my bladder up.

I lather quickly, cursing my own speed as the warmth from the water hits my aching muscles but still hell bent on getting out of here as soon as possible. The feeling should probably make me feel dirty, but I’m trying everything I can to justify my need to flee by telling myself I’m simply offering him an easy out.

I’m being a good guest.

My final contribution to Avery Finance before he cans my ass on Monday morning.

“Fuck my life,” I whisper to myself, taking a small moment to appreciate the smell of his body wash on my skin before I twist the knobs in front of me and step out.

I reach for one of his heavy towels and pat my face dry before wrapping it around me tight, perhaps absentmindedly hoping it will hold me together long enough to get back to my apartment without incident.

I find a new toothbrush on the edge of the sink and the wave of gratitude swirling in my chest is perhaps unlike any that’s ever come before it.

Once I’ve tended to myself and find the silk robe exactly where he’d promised it would be, I slip it over my shoulders, silently wondering how many women had worn it before me. My insecurities settle as I take in his scent alone and secure the sash before swallowing back my nerves and stepping back into his bedroom.

I hope to find it empty again, but instead, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, nursing a steaming cup of coffee as he stares down at his feet. Hearing me, his gaze lifts and I find the same smoldering expression he’d held a few moments prior laced with his own uncertainty.

“Better?” he asks, sitting up slightly to face me as I give him a nod. “Good,” he sighs, his eyes moving to the items lying on the mattress beside him. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I think your other clothes are ruined. They certainly are for the time being. I couldn’t very well ask you to go home in my robe, so I took the liberty of having a few things delivered,” he gestures toward the clothing.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, taking the few steps that separate me from his bed and giving the items a quick look, grateful again when I find jeans and a simple white t-shirt among them.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, pulling my eyes to his as he holds out a second steaming cup. “Here.”

I give him a smile of appreciation, savoring in the scent of the dark, Italian roast as it invades my senses. I stand in silence, feeling clarity for the first time since my eyes popped open, if only just. I’m more than halfway through the cup when I shake my thoughts clear.

“I’m sorry,” I offer, setting the cup down on the same table he’d taken it from. “I’ll get out of your hair, I just…”

“You’re not in my hair,” he says gently, the way he settles his elbows on his knees making it obvious he’s intent on staying where he is.

Slowly, I untie the sash on his robe, feeling somehow more exposed in the daylight as I acknowledge the familiar feel of silk pooling at my feet in front of him. With shaking hands, I slip the t-shirt over my head, my haste leaving the lace bra that likely costs more than I make in a week untouched.

“You seem different this morning,” he remarks, taking me in unabashedly. “Much shyer than you were last night.”

“Last night, I was drunk,” I confess.

“And now?”

“Well, I’m obviously not drunk anymore,” I chuckle nervously, unable to meet his eyes as I reach for the jeans and step into them. “I guess… I guess I don’t know what I am now.”

“You have regrets?” he asks, his tone somehow forcing my eyes to his questioning gaze.

“No,” I say, almost too quickly as I shake my head, cheeks flaring once more as I watch him sip from his cup. “No, I just might not be as brazen as I was last night is all.”

“Hmm… that’s too bad. I’m typically not a fan of brazen, but it looks good on you,” he says, setting his coffee down next to mine and rising to stand close. “What are you trying to work up the courage to ask me, Isabella?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, the single word making his jaw tense almost immediately.

“Don’t lie,” he orders, his voice soft despite the sharp edge hiding behind it. “You’re in the unique position to say whatever you want without repercussion,” he promises. “If there’s something you want to ask, something you’d like to say, now’s the time.”

I stare into him, weighing my options, convincing myself I can walk away without making things even more awkward. I’m about to lie again, tell him it’s nothing when his eyebrow arches slightly and the alien desire to please him overtakes me once more.

“Last night,” I start, pulling a nod from him. “We didn’t… Did we…?”

“Fuck?” he cuts me off, his bluntness sending my cheeks into flames. “Absolutely.”

“No,” I shake my head, swallowing hard. “That’s not… I remember that.”

“Hmm,” he gives me a nod as his eyes dance with amusement. “So, then what are you…?”

“The closet,” I blurt, my cheeks flaring with embarrassment. “Did you…?”

“Did I what?” he asks.

It’s obvious in his expression he knows exactly what I want to ask. He could easily answer me, make things easier, but he doesn’t.

It drives me crazy.

“Pieces of last night are a bit of a blur,” I start again slowly, the words only partially true and the way his jaw tenses tells me he knows it. “Did you…”

“I can tell by the blush of your cheeks and the hitch in your breath that very little of last night is a blur to you,” he calls me out in a husk, his eyes slightly heavy as they bore into mine.

“Did you…” I trail off once more, my courage nowhere to be found.

“Isabella.”

“Did you tie me up or use any of that shit on me?”

He surprises me by releasing a low, dark chuckle as he takes a step closer, his chest brushing against mine.

“If I had, I can assure you, you wouldn’t have to ask. You would definitely remember.”

I swallow hard, my eyes fluttering shut slightly as he takes a step behind me.

“Of course, we can always rectify that if you’d like?” he says, pulling my eyes to where he’s peering down over my shoulder at me. He sweeps my still damp hair away from my shoulder and takes in my unsure expression, his lips brushing against my temple as he grips the strands. “I know this wasn’t exactly planned, but I was pleasantly surprised to see how natural it all came to you,” he continues, his fingertips brushing against my stomach as he slips his hand beneath the thin fabric of my t-shirt. “I don’t think either of us can deny we enjoyed ourselves.” As he continues, his hot breath washes over my skin, his touch making me ache with need. “Did you enjoy yourself, Isabella?”

Fuck, he’s got me panting.

“Yes,” I swallow hard as his fingers continue to graze my skin.

“Last night was just a taste,” he promises, his husky voice sending a wave of want through me. “I can show you so much more. I want to show you so much more,” he whispers, his deep voice affecting me on such a carnal level now that I’ve tasted him, I can’t fight the heaviness of my eyes, the small whimper that leaves my chest. He holds me in place with his voice alone, his hands on me promising to destroy me for every man that dares to come after I’ve had him.

How can one man feel like such a good and bad idea all at once?

He brushes against my ass and I feel how hard he is. I know after last night that in two moves, he could be inside me, easing the ache that’s spreading over me like a wildfire doused in whiskey.

I want to drown in him.

I want to belong to him.

I want to be ruined by him.

I have to get out of here.

“Adam,” I manage, clearing my throat and praying it comes out steady on the second try. “I don’t-”

“I’m sure you have questions…”

“Just one,” I cut him off. “You’re a Dom, right?” I ask, pulling a nod from him, the feel of his hand coming to a slow stop just beneath the seam of my jeans both intoxicating and infuriating.

“I am.”

“So, what are you asking me exactly?” I ask, turning to face him. “To be your sub?”

He studies me for a moment, the way he bites gently on his bottom lip in thought making his dimple visible once more.

“It’s too early for that,” he says simply after a moment. “Taking on a submissive isn’t the same as asking someone on a date. The level of trust and commitment needed on both parts… it’s far more complicated than you might think.”

“Okay,” I reply, admittedly breathing a little easier. “Then what are you asking?”

“Right now?” he starts, pulling a nod from me. “Right now, I’m not asking to own you. I’m simply asking you not to run scared. I’m asking you to give us both a chance to see what this has the potential to become.”

“You’re my boss,” I say quietly, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat. “I think that eliminates quite a bit of potential, don’t you?” I ask, forcing myself to take a step away from him, feeling the loss immediately. “I’d say the potential in that closet alone is more than a slight conflict of interest.”

He takes in my words and finally, gives me a subtle nod.

“As you wish,” he says quietly, moving toward what I can only assume is another closet to dress himself. I’m left standing alone in his bedroom for only a moment before I snap myself out of it and move to slide on the shoes he’d brought me. I’m sliding the second one on when he returns in a pair of jeans and a black, button down dress shirt. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll drive you home.”

“I can take a cab,” I offer, pulling an immediate shake from his head.

“I’m not putting you in a cab,” he argues. “I’ll take you myself when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” I nod, following him out into the rest of the house, thanking him when he hands me my clutch and phone.

It occurs to me that I’d been lying before when I told him I only had one question. The truth is, I have a million, but as we slip back into his Maserati, the silence surrounding us isn’t as comfortable as I’d grown used to. As he slides into traffic, I can’t seem to make sense of my own thoughts.

I keep feeling as though there will be more time, another opportunity, but deep down, I know better. Before I know it, we’re at my apartment building and my time is up.

“Would you like me to walk you up?” he asks politely, silencing the ringer on his phone for the third time since he’d slipped behind the wheel.

“No, you don’t have to,” I shake my head, giving him a nervous smile. “Thank you, but I’ve got it from here.”

“Okay,” he nods, his gaze dropping to my chest before returning to my eyes. “This stays between us, okay? All of it.”

“Of course,” I agree. “I’ll put it in the vault.”

“Good,” he says, returning my small smile. “That’s the best way to protect us both from scrutiny.”

The weight of his words hit me heavily and as I meet his eyes, his understanding shines through.

“Thank you,” I say low, pulling a nod from him as his fingertips brush mine.

“You’re welcome,” he replies before watching me slip from the car.

I refuse myself the temptation to look over my shoulder as I make my way inside my building, but can’t deny the immediate twinge of regret coursing through me as I hear him pull away from the curb once I’m safely inside.

The walk to the second floor seems more tedious than it had the afternoon before it. As I slide my key into the lock, I can’t help the blush that stains my cheek for a moment before I push my door open without any trouble. I glance down and notice the shiny new lock that adorns my creaky old door.

“Figures. I fuck the city’s most eligible bachelor and I walk away with a new lock,” I whisper to myself with a snort sarcastically. “I should have a t-shirt made.”