Rendezvous with the Billionaire: A Billionaire Workplace Romance (3 page)

The Night in Question

But Evan made his offer on Monday, and I had to wait until Friday for it to actually happen. I spent the rest of the week silently hoping that he didn't retract it and decide to fire me. Every morning I arrived at work and looked towards his office. Some days he beat me there, others he came in later, but he never looked at me, never spoke to me. If it weren't for the note I had placed in my wallet I wouldn't believe that this was really happening to me. I may have been guilty of taking the note out to stare at it every so often. Just once or twice a day, or an hour. That didn't matter.

But I didn't tell Andrea, though she thought something was up. And I didn't tell Maricela, even though we shared so much of our space. Kimberly and Dixon didn't know either, but I didn't expect to talk to them or anyone else until after my night with Evan.

Desire pulsed through me at the thought of Evan, but I kept myself in check. If he wasn't paying attention to me, I couldn't pay attention to him.

And so the week passed by more quickly than expected. I did all my work and set myself to that task. I didn't want the thought of any unfinished assignments hanging over my head when Friday night came.

And on that night, I made my excuses. It would have been easiest to tell my girls that I was hanging out with a guy, but then they'd want details of everything. So instead, I told them my cousin was in town and I was staying with her. I'd make something up if they asked later, but it was easier to fake that then the other thing.

I pulled out that slip of paper once more, even though I had memorized it by now: The Hyperion Hotel, room 983, 9pm. I set out at 7:30, though the subway was fast I didn't want to risk being late.

This area of Manhattan was all business, skyscrapers, hotels, convention centers, sure, maybe a few of the uber-rich owned condos in the area, but there sure as hell weren't too many of them. The Hyperion stood on its own, dwarfed by the twenty-plus story buildings surrounding it. But it had clearly been built in another time. Art deco or whatever it was called, back from when they were building the Empire State Building or the Chrysler Building.

It was only 8:30 when I arrived, and I had no key, but I didn't want to stand on the street waiting for thirty minutes. I wandered into a little bookstore, amazingly still open at this hour, and browsed for a few minutes. And then, at ten minutes to the hour, I walked into the hotel.

The interior was something out of a golden age fantasy. Chandeliers, sumptuous wood paneling, and furniture all in the style popular 100 years ago. The elevator was fronted by a caged facade, and I almost expected an attendant to press the buttons for me to get to my room. But I was blessedly alone, just me and the mirror in the back of the elevator.

One final look over to make sure I was good to go. Short black dress, fuck me heels, make-up just on point, and hair hanging down in loose curls just over my shoulders. Pretty damn good. The bell rang and the door opened for the ninth floor. I read the sign and went to the right for room 983. The door looked just like all the other doors in the hallway, dark brown with a sophisticated gold plate reading the room number.

I didn't have a key, so I knocked twice. It was still a few minutes to nine, but I figured Evan wouldn't hold it against me. A sudden wave of doubt assailed me. Had I done right by dressing up? If this whole thing was meant to be a secret, did it matter how I dressed?

But my momentary freak-out was cut short by Evan opening the door for me. I was relieved to see him standing there in a gray suit, the only nod to being casual was that he did not wear a tie. In fact, he had the top most button of his white shirt undone. Completely scandalous.

"Um, hi!" I said, stepping into the room as he stood out of the way of the door.

He closed it behind me and smiled, "Good evening."

I took a look around, this wasn't a fancy suite or anything, not nearly as swanky as he could afford. Still an incredibly nice room, though. The window looked out over the city, or it would have if the other tall buildings weren't blocking its way. A king-sized bed dominated the mostly red colored room, the covers alternating between rich red and gold. Perhaps not a room made for a king, but a room that a king wouldn't feel insulted staying the night in.

I set my purse down on the little table near the door and peeked into the bathroom. A large tub and shower, two sinks, very nice, but nothing too special.

By the time I turned back around from my perusal of the room, Evan already had his jacket off and was pouring out two glasses of white wine. He handed one to me. "I'm glad you decided to come."

I swallowed nervously to keep from blurting out something stupid. "It was too tempting to pass up." There, that sounded good. The wine tasted sweet on my lips, surprising as he seemed the type to prefer something dry and super classy.

He smiled. I swallowed again. Were we just going to sit here all night drinking wine? Or were we going to get down to business? And would he think poorly of me if I made the first move?

There was a small couch opposite the foot of the bed, I sat down and patted the seat next to me, smiling. "Sit down." There, it wasn't like I was jumping on him, but maybe this would move things along.

Evan sat. "There's no need to rush," he said, twirling his wine glass in one hand and placing the other high on my thigh. "We have all night."

My pussy clenched. I loosened my legs, letting my knees fall just slightly apart. But Evan's hand stayed just where it was as he sipped his wine. I placed one hand on top of his and tipped back my wine glass, swallowing it down in two gulps. "But we only have tonight." This wasn't the time for simpering. I needed my boldness, I needed whatever let me send that cursed, wonderful text message and made me agree to one night with this man.

I set my wine glass on the table and turned on the couch, my body facing him completely, his hand now resting almost chastely on my thigh. There were questions that I wanted to ask, things that I wished he would tell me, for instance confessing that he'd been madly in love with me or something. But that wasn't going to happen. I met his eyes and raised my eyebrows in some sort of half sexual, half playful challenge. "So are we going to just sit on the couch all night and sip our wine?"

He needed no more encouragement, setting his glass down as well and leaning in to me. But he didn't kiss me first, didn't caress me. Instead he leaned his forehead against mine and took a deep breath, almost like he was about to yell out or burst into song or something. But it ratcheted up the intimacy in the situation, just sitting so close, sharing so much space made me feel like for one instance I was not just near this man, but with him.

His hand crawled up my thigh, sliding around and up and under my dress, just tickling the outer thigh and flicking so softly against my ass. "I've been watching you," he said, his words an intimate caress rivaling those exploring fingers. My nipples tightened from that husky baritone. "Ever since you started, I just imagined you here."

So we were confessing everything now? I splayed a hand out on his chest, fisting it in the soft cotton of his shirt. "Some nights..." No, I couldn't tell him that. No matter what we did, we still barely knew each other. There was no way I would admit it. "I wanted to call you up." Nice save, me. "I just didn't expect to do it when I was drunk."

He grinned and my heart fluttered. Stupid organ, tonight wasn't about that. I pulled him forward, pressing my lips to his, capturing his mouth in a brutal kiss. This was not some gentle sign of affection, it was meant to leave a mark on his soul, to not let him forget that I was going to rock his world.

After all, how many nights with a billionaire does a girl get?

But his tongue met mine stroke for bold stroke, reminding me that he was the one to suggest this, that he had every intention of remaining in control.

His hand explored higher under my dress, finding my panties and working at the elastic, sliding them down and down until that tiny scrap of silk was half-exposed just below the hem. I was already so wet for him that I could feel my juices coat him when he slid one finger around me, still devouring my own mouth with his.

I spread my legs further, foiled by the limitations of the couch, but wanting more contact. He slipped a finger inside of me and I moaned against his mouth. This man didn't waste time. I bucked my hips, wanting more of the pleasure his fingers promised, wanting the climax I knew was so many strokes away.

But Evan pulled his fingers out, pulling back to look at me, to place that finger in his mouth and suck, his eyes closed in pure pleasure from the taste. Desire lit up even further, he was far too dressed for this.

My fingers worked at buttons of his shirt, cursing them as each refused to be let out the holes by my desperate fingers. But as with so many things, haste only made it harder. Once I got myself under control just enough I was able to work my way down his chest, Evan's eyes glued to me the whole time.

I opened up the shirt, only to reveal an undershirt underneath it. "Really, dude?" I asked, indignant. "How many freaking layers are you wearing?"

Evan kissed my neck, nibbling his way up to my earlobe. "It only heightens the reward." He breathed the words into my ear, nibbling at the lobe.

I could already feel how drenched I was, but by some miracle his words only made me more so. I had never been turned on by so little foreplay before. But I guess the entire week working up to this night was some perverse non-sexual foreplay of the highest order.

With his help I eased his shirt off, leaving him in his undershirt and tenting trousers. Damn, his muscles bulged on his arms, well defined in a way that meant he could bench press way more than most of the other rich men in Manhattan. With no warning but a smile he put those arms to good use, hoisting me up and flipping me over to the bed, placing me down gently.

He stood at the foot of the bed, a completely satisfied look on his face. He had me exactly where he wanted me. Though I could not say the same for him. "You said you think of me?" He asked. "At night?"

Maybe I was embarrassed earlier, but now I could only feel the lust, see the desire in his eyes. There was no room for shame here. "I do," I breathed.

He smiled something dark and sensual. "Show me."

That coy girl that lived within me would never have done it, but she had buried herself somewhere deep the moment I decided to have my night, to take this opportunity with him. I scooted back, pulling my legs completely onto the mattress. At this point there was no sexy way to take off the dress by myself while I was lying down. But I hitched up a leg and rolled my panties the rest of the way down, sliding them off my feet and tossing them into some hidden corner of the room.

Usually I started with my breasts to get everything going, but right now I was nearly to the tip of exploding. I ran my hands down my legs, curling my fingers into the hem of the dress and moving it up with excruciatingly tender slowness. My eyes were glued to Evan's the entire time. He licked his lips and I was nearly undone.

I dipped a hand between my thighs, running it against that soft flesh and displaying myself for him. I had imagined something like this so many times it was nearly impossible to believe it was finally happening. My eyes closed for a moment as I ran a finger over that hardened nub, a weak moan escaped my throat.

I wanted to open my eyes back up, but got caught up in the pleasure, circling back and forth, hips bucking and hands slick. I felt the bed move, confused at first at how I had exerted such force. But I felt Evan's hand on my thigh once more and my eyes flew open.

He knelt in between my legs, his mouth hovering above one of my knees, his eyes taking in my sex, full of desire, of heat. I spread my legs further, anything to encourage him to move, to do something to me.

He kissed at my knee, licking his way up my thigh. But when he got to that sweet, tight apex, he skipped over, moving on to the other leg and gently sucking at that tender flesh. It felt good, oh so good, but it wasn't right, wasn't exactly where I wanted. "Higher," I said, my words only slightly breathless.

He tilted his eyes up, a position that should have made me feel powerful. Instead I only felt enthralled. But clearly this man had a playful side. He skipped over my sex once more, pushing my dress up to my waist and kissing at my abdomen. "Like that?" He asked.

I glared, playfully, of course, but still wanting the feel of his tongue, his fingers, anything inside me. I wrapped my legs around his torso, stopping his upward movement. "I think you know that's not what I meant."

"Then say it." A challenge in his eyes. I was already here, did he think I would balk now when we were just getting started?

"Eat me," I smiled. Half insult, half command, all fun. This night could only get better.

Evan's eyes lit at my words. He slid back down, this time with no hesitation taking my pussy into his mouth. I sucked in a huge breath and clutched at the sheet. I could feel my hard nipples scraping against the soft fabric of my dress, everything came into focus, pleasure doubled, tripled just from one stroke of his tongue.

But he wasn't content to just leave it at that. The man feasted, lapping at me like he could not imagine a better place to be in the world at this moment. I knew I couldn't. I dug my fingers into his hair, holding him close to me, trying to urge him on wordlessly, but Evan would not be satisfied with anything less than my full, verbal participation.