Chandler: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (8 page)

But she passes it. And goes instead to the single-family bathroom beside it. I’m practically on her heels, but I freeze several feet away. Does she want me to go in after her?

I
want to go in after her.

If the door’s unlocked, I decide as I head toward it, then it’s an invitation. I reach for the handle and turn it…

The door clicks open.

She’s facing me when I walk in, as though she were waiting. I lock the door behind me, and with two steps, I have her backed up against the wall.

“You are such a naughty, naughty girl.” I’m already pulling at my belt.

“And you’re an arsehole,” she says breathlessly, her eyes darting from my lips to my eyes and back again.

“I was only acting defensively. You’re the one who was naughty first.”

“Because I took off my knickers?”

Yes, because of that. Also because she’s the one undoing my belt. She’s the one unzipping my fly.

And I’m naughty too. I’m naughty because I help her find what she’s looking for, drawing out the steel rod that has taken residence in my tuxedo pants.

She rubs her hand over my head and meets my eyes. “Tell me again why I’m so bad.”

I lift her legs up around my waist and rock forward so she can feel my cock against her bare pussy. “Because you did this. You gave me this.”

I pull out a condom from my wallet, and she wriggles against me as I suit up.

“Seems like we’re even since I’m dripping.” Her hands grip the handicap railing for support.

Good. She’s going to need it.

“You’re not dripping nearly as much as you’re going to be.” I dig my fingers into the lush skin of her ass, position my cock at her entrance and slam inside.

We gasp in unison.

She’s snug and hot, and I feel like a jackhammer the way I can’t stop pounding into her. Relentlessly. Without mercy.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” I know she did, but I want to hear her say it. “You were such a naughty girl because you wanted me to come in here. In you.”

She nods her head, but she’s already tightening at orgasm’s edge, and her lids are closed and her chin is tucked into her chest, and I’m frustrated because I want her to look at me. Want her to answer in words, while she’s looking me in the eye.

I raise her higher until her ass is braced against the handicap bar. Now my hand is free, and I grip her jaw and jerk her chin up. “You look at me when I’m making you come, Genny. Do you understand?”

She’s staring up at me now, but she answers again with just a nod.

“Words. Tell me in words how much you wanted this.” I’m desperate to hear her say it, and it’s only partly because I need the reassurance. The other reasons are less easy to put a finger on. They’re more base. More primal. I need her to say it because, in this moment, I’m half-caveman and crazed with lust.

I need her to say it because I know when she does, it’s going to be the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

Her expression twists into anguish, her eyes water, and she’s so fucking beautiful like this that I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do if she tells me that she didn’t want this because, Christ, I
can’t
stop.

And she still hasn’t answered me.

I tilt her chin up harder and move my face inches from hers. At the same time, I press my pelvis forward so that I rub against her clit each time I drive in. She grows tighter, but like fuck am I letting her come before she responds. “Answer me, Genny. Tell me that you played with me out there because you wanted to be fucked.”

“Yes,” she says, panting. “I wanted to be fucked.”

“And you wanted me to touch you. Under the table. So you took off your panties and taunted me.”

“Yes. I wanted you to put your fingers inside me.”

It’s my turn to nod. Because I’m speechless. Hearing her breath ragged, her voice thin from exertion—it really is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

With her chin still pinched between my thumb and forefinger, I stare down at her open mouth. Then I lean down and suck on her lower lip. “Good,” I tell her before slipping my tongue along hers. “You’re so, so good.”

All of it is so, so good. Every last piece of this moment is perfection.

She orgasms first, but I’m right behind her, spiraling so hard and so fast I can’t hold her anymore. I let her go, keeping her caged against the wall. My legs are shaking; my vision is black. I press my forehead to hers and gulp in air like I’ve just finished running a mile at a full sprint.

When I’m calm enough to speak, I wipe at her smudged mascara with my thumb. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she sighs, her eyes closed.

Then, suddenly, her body goes rigid and her lids fly open. I step aside when she nudges me off of her. She crosses to the sink and examines herself in the mirror. “Jesus,” she mutters, sweeping her fingers along the lash line under her eyes. “What did we just do?”

I turn and lean against the wall, not quite ready to stand by myself. “Uh, do you need an instant replay?”

An instant replay.
I practically feel myself getting hard again thinking about it.

Genny rubs the remnants of lipstick off her mouth, washes her hands, then crosses to the door.

“I’m going out first,” she says over her shoulder. “Give me at least five minutes before you follow.”

Not a problem. Because I need at least five minutes to recover. When I can move, I cross to the mirror and echo her previous sentiment. “What the hell did we just do?”

She’s still not in her seat when I return, which is odd since I waited a while before coming after her, but maybe she really went to the bathroom this time. Or maybe she saw someone she knew. I glance around and don’t see her, which makes me unexplainably anxious.

I wait until the current speaker sits down before leaning toward Hagan. “Do you think Genevieve is all right?”

He blinks a couple of times as though he needs a second to remember who I’m talking about. Then he says, “Oh. She came back while you were still gone and said she wasn’t feeling well. Sorry. I assumed she’d already told you.”

“Ah, no. I didn’t get that.” Had she said something that suggested she was leaving? Did I miss a cue?

I sit back in my chair, now more anxious than ever. What is it with this girl? Twice today I’ve had sex with her, thinking it was pretty damn fantastic, and twice she’s blown me off afterward. Am I seriously so twisted up about her that I don’t realize she’s not having a good time?

No. Impossible. She wanted it. She told me she wanted it.

This time I’m not waiting a week to chase her down. If she’s going to compare this experience to something banal and everyday like pizza, I need to hear it tonight.

I wish I had her number, but because of the way she took off, I’m pretty positive she wouldn’t respond to a text anyway. Besides, this is face-to-face subject matter.

So, once again, I lean over toward her brother. “I should send her some flowers. I know where she’s staying. Do you have her room number?”

Sucker gives it to me without a second thought.

I mean, it’s not like I’m going to do anything terrible with the information. Maybe I’ll even really have flowers when I show up there later on. We’ll see.

I
end
up foregoing the flowers.

Mainly because by the time the awards banquet is over, it’s after eleven and I don’t want to take the time to find a bouquet in the middle of the night. Anything I located would be shit leftover that didn’t sell during the day, anyway. Genevieve deserves more than that.

She deserves more than me standing at her door empty-handed, too, but if my gut is correct, all she really wants is for me to show up. And I have.

The
Do Not Disturb
sign is up, but I decide it doesn’t refer to me and knock quietly. A minute later, I hear her moving on the other side of the door, looking through the peephole, I assume.

“What are you doing here?” she says, irritation lining her tone, though I’d guess that half of it is put on.

Or at least I hope that it’s put on.

“You left,” I say, not wanting to have this conversation in the hall.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to show up at a woman’s room uninvited?”

I smile tightly at the scowling couple that passes by. Another two minutes out here, and I’m going to get reported for harassment. “Genevieve, please. Let me in. We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

“Whatever is going on between us needs to stop. You should go.”

I’m conflicted. Her words say one thing, but I also hear her subtext. It matches much of what’s going on inside me—confusion, excitement. Maybe a little bit of fear.

Okay, more than a little bit.

And maybe I’m making it all up, and she doesn’t really feel the same way I do. I lean my head against her door. “Do you really want me to go?”

She’s quiet, but I sense her there, on the other side of this barrier, and I want her more than ever. “Tell you what.” I pray I don’t sound like I’m begging, even though I kind of am. “You let me in and explain what happened tonight, and then I’ll go. I think I’m entitled to that much, don’t you?”

There’s another beat of silence.

Then the deadbolt clicks and the door swings open. There she is, her hair down and damp from a shower, her face freshly scrubbed, wearing nothing but pajama shorts and a tight tank that perfectly outlines her tits.

She’s so beautiful, it makes my stomach hurt. Or higher than my stomach, somewhere in the middle of my chest, a pinching feeling that makes me feel both a little sick and a little amazing.

“Come on in then,” she says, sweeping her arm out in invitation. As I step past her, she adds, “But keep you bits in your trousers, please.”

Jesus, she sounds like my brother.

I move into the room, giving her space. “I will keep my pants zipped, as long as you promise never to refer to it as a
‘bit’
again.
Monster
would be preferable.
Lord
could work.
Great Big Dick of Amazingness
would earn lots of points with me.”

She folds her arms across her chest and smirks. “Do I
need
points from you?”

It’s a tad embarrassing how transparent my interest is. But I own up to it. “No, you really don’t.” I unbutton my jacket and turn toward her, my hands in my pockets. “It seems like I need points from you.”

Her shoulders relax slightly. “Don’t be charming.”

“Or what?”

“Or we’ll end up with your bits back out of your trousers. Excuse me,” she says, correcting herself. “Your
Great Big Dick of Amazingness
.”

I can’t express how happy it makes me to hear that phrase come out of her sexy little mouth.

It’s a relief, too, that she’s obviously still interested in my Great Big Dick of Amazingness. I sprawl out on my side on her bed, all suave-like. “And that’s a problem because?”

She throws her hands in the air and starts to pace the room. “Because I don’t have time for you! You’re an obstacle on the path to my dream career. A distraction. Tonight, I should have been on my A-game. I should have spoken up and given my ideas instead of letting my father and Hagan take all the limelight. You know that subscription service idea? It was mine originally. Hagan ran with it after I mentioned it in passing. I should have taken credit. It’s still got merit but too small in scope, as far as I’m concerned.”

I take half a second to bask in her acknowledgment that she’s into me. I’d like to spend more time on the topic, but that’s not what she needs from me. So after I get past my ego, I mentally make a note to tell Hudson about the subscription service before Hagan has a chance to claim it as his.

Propping my head up with my elbow, I consider what else she said. “Now you’ve learned that you should hide your cards in front of others. And you did, for the most part. That’s smart. Sounds like A-game to me.”

“Except that wasn’t my reason for keeping silent.” She continues to wear a path back and forth across the room. “I was too wrapped up in thoughts of you to even think of that.”

This time my ego speaks before I can silence it. “Thoughts of me?”

She ignores my interruption. “And then you whispered those crude words. How was I supposed to think strategy after that? Do you not realize how important this opportunity with Werner Media is for me?”

Actually, I hadn’t really thought about it. I wish I had, and I want to rectify that now.

Before she crosses by the bed again, I stand up and pull out the chair from the desk. “Can you sit please? You’re making me dizzy.” Actually, her pacing is adorable, but it’s keeping her wound up, and I want her calmed down.

She stops short in front of it. “Fine.” With a reluctant sigh, she sits.

I move around to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her. “Okay. I’ll admit that I did encourage some bad behavior. I take full blame for speaking inappropriately.” I don’t remind her she’d started it by practically grabbing my goods. “I do not take the blame for you taking off your panties, however—”

She shoots to a stand. “I knew you were going to bring that up. I make one bloody mistake, and you’re throwing it back in my face. That’s your fault too, you know. It wasn’t like they were doing any good anyway. They practically melted off the minute you showed up looking like a crumpet in your black tie.”

“Crumpet is a good thing, right?” There’s that damn ego again.

And now she’s resumed pacing.

“The point is that I have spent years focused on nothing but earning a place at Accelecom. All of college, my postgraduate work, my entire twenty-three years of being alive, has all led to right now. To this opportunity.”

“Sit down, and we can talk about that.”

She sits and crosses one leg over the other, bouncing the top one in a frantic rhythm. “Talk about what? How I’ve managed to go from no libido to hyper-drive in the course of one day? How I don’t recognize myself anymore? How I’m more caught up in when you’re going to touch me again than in what I’m going to do to get Accelecom this job?”

Again, she springs up from her seat. “Talking to you doesn’t help. It just makes it worse.” She’s back to pacing and fretting. “I was fine after that first night. One-night stands are supposed to be one night for a reason. Then, today, you had to muck it up by being charming and amazing with your monster dick. This is your fault! Every bit of it.”

“Genny. Sit down.” I’m as surprised as she is at the command in my tone.

Needless to say, it works. She sits.

“If you can’t stay put, I’ll tie you to the chair.” Damn, where did that come from?

“Ha. I dare you.”

Uh, did she really just
dare
me? Because that’s some bullshit if she thinks I can ignore the underlying invitation, and suddenly, I not only want to see her tied up—I
need
to.

Without explanation, I stand and start stripping my belt from its loops.

“Chandler!” Her exclamation seems to be as much thrill as admonishment.

“Don’t worry. Monster’s staying put,” I assure her. “But so are you.” I circle around her, assessing. The easiest would be to strap her torso and arms to the back of the chair, but I’m not sure the belt is long enough, and besides, her hands would still be free.

“Give me your wrists,” I say after a minute. Surprisingly, she does so, reaching back around the sides of the chair.

Admittedly, I have no idea what I’m doing. Here’s to faking it.

I wrap one wrist in the leather, threading the strap through the metal buckle and pulling it tight. Then I weave the end through the middle slat of the chair and around her other wrist before looping back to where I started. There’s enough length to do it one more time.

When I’ve finished, I pull on her wrists, and shockingly, they’re secure.

Pleased with myself, I move back around to face her, and wow. I’d really meant it when I’d said I’d keep it in my pants, but all of a sudden I’m regretting making such a promise because she looks good.

And since my crotch is not too far below her eye level, she notices what’s going on down there. I swear to god, she bites her lip. Like that’s going to help.

Actually, it kind of does. Now we’re both aroused, but I have the upper hand.

I adjust myself and settle on the bed facing her. “Okay. Now let’s talk.” I lean back on my elbows, partly because I’m a giant narcissist, and I want her to have a full view of my hard-on. Also partly because the position gives
me
a perfect view. With her arms behind her back, her tits protrude like fruit ripe and dangling. It’s all I can do not to eat her for a midnight snack. “This having you tied up, though, is quite spectacular.”

“Oh, Jesus. Do you have to ogle?” She feigns disgust.

Trust me—she’s feigning. I know.

“Shut up,” I tell her, reaching my foot out to wrap around the leg of the chair so I can pull her closer. “You like it. Your skin gets splotchy and pink when you’re turned on.”

Her blush deepens. “But that’s the problem, Chandler. You
do
turn me on. And I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for
you
.”

“You don’t have time for me because I’m a distraction,” I say, validating what she’d said earlier. “But what if I can also help you?”

“How?”

I work my jaw back and forth as I consider. “We’ve already determined it was good to keep your ideas to yourself tonight. And what you did share was quite excellent.”

“My father doesn’t think so.”

“So your father is never going to steal that angle. It’s not good for his company, anyway. It’s only a viable plan for a bigger corporation like Pierce Industries. Luckily, someone who matters heard the idea and thinks it’s really innovative.” I wink.

She furrows her brow and frowns. “Who? Nathan Murphy?”

“No. Me.”
Duh.

Irritating woman that she is, she laughs. My ego shrivels back in on itself, and I can’t decide if I want to choke her or kiss the fuck out of her.

Maybe both.

“You know what? Suck my dick.” I adjust myself. Again.

“I’m sorry,” she says, recovering. “You just. You didn’t even know you owned Werner Media until I told you.”

“True. But it’s my brother you need to win, right? I have pull with him.”

“Do you?” This time she’s not making fun—she’s sincerely asking.

“Yes. I do.” I think. Maybe. “He’s the one who sent me to that dinner tonight, you know.” I’m trying to convince myself as much as her.

“And you spent it trying to get to know Nathan Murphy.” Realization crosses her features. “Oh! Are you courting him?”

“Give me your foot,” I say, trying to distract her from the question but also just needing to touch her.

“You
are
courting him!” she says, obliging me with her foot in my lap.

I sit up and take it in my hands, massaging my thumb into the ball. Her feet are dainty, but her skin is calloused and tough, and because it’s something new and interesting about her, I find it hot as hell. “Were you a dancer?” I ask.

“I’m a runner. My feet are gross. Now tell me about Nathan Murphy.”

“I think they’re sexy.” I bend down and draw her big toe in my mouth to prove it.

She tries to pull it away, but I don’t let her.

“Nathan. Murphy.” She attempts to make it sound like she’s frustrated that I haven’t told her, but the way her breathing has quickened and the way her eyes have gone dark and liquid, I can tell she’s also just frustrated from this foot rub.

I, however, pretend like sucking on her bits is no big deal.

Spoiler: It is. I’m fucking lead.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss Nathan Murphy,” I concede. “But I am at liberty to tell you that I will speak highly of you to Hudson. Is that what you want?” Carefully, I raise my eyes to hers, a little unsure what I’ll find when they meet.

Confusion. Excitement. Fear. That’s what I see. The same things I heard in her voice earlier, and it’s like her gaze is a mirror of all the ways she makes me feel.

Oh, but we’re talking about work. Yes. Right.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she says, sighing, and I pretend that it’s mostly from what my thumb is doing to the bottom of her foot.

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

She chews on the inside of her lip while she thinks. “I want to follow in my father’s footsteps. I want him to bring me on as a major player in his company. I want Accelecom to merge with Werner Media, and I want to have a position where I can implement progressive concepts and take the industry in a new direction.”

I nod, encouragingly, despite what I’m about to say. “I hate to break it to you,” I set her foot down and reach for the other, “but I don’t think I’m the one standing in your way of your ambitious goals.”

“I know. It’s my father. And Hagan.” She sighs again, and this time it’s complete discouragement. “He’s actually a really smart guy, even when he acts like a prat. It’s just frustrating that my father only sees
his
achievements and only hears
his
ideas.”

“Yeah, that is frustrating.” The thing is, I get it. “Not that I know what you go through exactly, but I do know a thing or two about being in a sibling’s shadow.”

She tilts her head and stares at me. “I imagine you do. At least you don’t have your gender working against you.”

“You’re right. I can’t know what that’s like, but I have to say, I kind of even live in the shadow of my sister. She was pushed and supported and championed through her entire life.”