Nick looks so peaceful in his sleep, like he's finally not carrying the weight of the world around on his shoulders.
I run my fingers through his hair. There's so much going on in that beautiful head of his. I want to know everything about it.
I want to know him, really know him.
That's entirely unsettling. I plant a kiss on his cheek and move to the living room, away from the source of my confusion.
My clothes and purse are in a neat pile on the coffee table. There's a box next to them. It's wrapped in a purple bow. I find my glasses in the pile and read the card.
I was going to give this to your last night. Wear it whenever you want to cash in.
There's another note on the back of the card.
Rain check.
- Nick
A smile spreads across my lips. He left me a fucking rain check. I fold it neatly and slide it into my purse.
I unwrap the present without a hint of patience. It's another lingerie set. This one is racy. A sheer bra and a matching thong in black lace.
I dress and look for some way to leave Nick a note. There's nothing, so I send him a text message.
Lizzy: Went to change for work. See you at eight. You bring the coffee.
There's something awfully impersonal about texting a man who is sleeping in the next room, but if I stay here I'm not sure I'll be able to leave. I make my way to the lobby and walk the ten blocks to my apartment.
The doorman, that same grey-haired, portly man, shoots me that good for you for getting laid look. I shrug like I have no idea what his expression means.
We are all business for our two hours together. Then Nick disappears into his work, and I do my best to disappear into mine. It's past eight o'clock when he checks my code and sends me home with a soft goodbye.
He's more affectionate in front of other people. It's nothing obvious. He doesn't kiss me or hold me, but he smiles, and he laughs, and he brushes his hand against my lower back.
It's difficult going home alone, knowing he'll be working until dawn, but I manage it by going out with Sarah or burying myself in sci-fi movies.
Thursday night, he walks me to the elevator. "I'm sorry I've been so busy. I'll make it up to you tomorrow." He presses his lips to mine. "Wear that lingerie."
Hell yes.
The lacy lingerie set is gorgeous. It gives my breasts enough shape that, save for the outline of my nipples poking through my blouse, it looks like I'm wearing a proper bra.
I cinch a blazer tight so I won't show off to anyone but Nick.
In my black suit and purple blouse, I'm the picture of a professional businesswoman. Especially with my glasses on and my hair in a bun. There's no way to tell that I'm wearing something sexy under my getup.
No one knows but us.
Nick is unbearably professional during our lesson. Our work is intense. There's a lot to do.
At ten, he leans in close. "You're having lunch with me today. Be here at one." He nods to the door, all business.
"I'll see you then, Mr. Marlowe."
I set an alarm so I'll get sucked into work. When it beeps, at five to one, I make my way to Nick's office. He and Jasmine are standing outside his door, deep in conversation about something.
Their voices are low, but not low enough to be out of range.
Jasmine hands Nick a neat brown folder. "OmniTech faxed their offer. Are you going to read it?"
His voice is stern. "No."
"It's a fair offer. Fifty percent more than Google's."
"I'm aware."
"If you're so against it—"
"Save it." Nick pushes the folder into her hands. "I'm sure you have work to do."
"This is my work. If you want to keep Shepard from selling, you're going to have to do something besides pout."
He stares at her with anger. "Do you honestly believe it's possible to change his mind?"
She frowns. "He's not a bad person. He loves you. If you would just—"
"Would I ask you to make up with him?"
Jasmine steps back. "You might. If you were desperate enough."
"Do you really believe that?"
She bites her lip. "Yes. But I understand. This company is everything to you." Her voice drops. "Nick, I don't like seeing him like this either. But I can't go back to him. Not after the way he hurt me."
"I would never ask you to do that." Nick's voice gets stern. "This is not your job."
"No, this is my job." She pushes the folder against his chest. "Mr. Marlowe, here is the offer. Please review it and forward your thoughts to our CFO, Shepard Marlowe. You should know him. He's your brother and your business partner. And if you want to keep acting like it's impossible for you to reach out to him, then accept that the company is being sold and stop pouting about it." She spins and walks back to her desk.
Nick's expression flares with frustration. He clenches his fist as he checks his watch. His eyes meet mine, and he motions come here. I follow him into his office, closing the door behind me.
The office feels smaller than it did this morning. Nick looks taller. Broader. More imposing.
I press my back against the door. Press my lips together. "Are you going to look at that?"
"I don't want to talk about work." He drops the folder on the desk. His breath is steady. His expression is stoic.
"Is it a fair offer?"
"Lizzy, stop. This is not something I want to discuss. And not with you."
He doesn't want my help. I try to reason my way out of how much that hurts. He's a CEO, seasoned in business, and I'm an intern. I can't give him any advice. There's no way I can help him with his company.
But he looks so hurt. I have to do something.
I nod. "Tell me what I can do to make you feel better."
"There's nothing. You should get back to work."
"But Nick." I take a step towards him. I swallow hard. This is quite the offer, but it's the right move. "Use me to feel better. Use me to feel in control again."
He stares at me like he can't believe what I'm asking.
"Please." I hold my breath waiting for his response.
Chapter Twenty-Four
His expression is weary.
This is the way I can help him. The only way, maybe.
I slide my blazer off my shoulders. "Please."
His eyes go to my chest. His lips part. His pupils dilate. "You don't know what you're asking."
"Yes I do. I want you to use me to feel better. Whatever that means."
His brow furrows like he's working through something. He nods. "Lock the door."
I do.
Nick stares deep into my eyes. "Come here."
Three steps and I'm inches from Nick. His fingers skim my chin, his touch gentle.
He pulls my glasses off and places them on his desk.
His hands go to my blouse. He undoes the top button. The second. The third. My shirt spills open.
My bra is completely see-through. It's like my breasts are being presented to him. On display just for him.
Nick lets out a low sigh of pleasure. Something in his expression relaxes. This really is what he needs.
My body buzzes from the proximity. His hands are millimeters from my skin but he's not touching me. Not yet.
He undoes my fourth button, the last that isn't tucked into my skirt, and pries the sides of my shirt apart.
Heat spreads out from my core. I wish I could drink in the look in his eyes. I wish I could feel this desirable all the fucking time.
His eyes fix on me. He watches my reactions as he cups my breast and rubs his thumb over my nipple. It presses the lace of my bra against my tender bud.
The friction is fucking divine.
I stare back at him, watching him the way he's watching me. His pupils dilate. His lips part. He increases the pressure until I'm groaning. My eyes flutter closed. I can't watch him anymore. I can't do anything but feel.
His lips go to my neck. His teeth scrape against my skin.
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The sting of pain tightens the knot between my legs.
Fuck yes. I melt into his movements, panting and tugging at his suit jacket so I won't make a sound.
He kisses his way to my collarbone, then down my chest. He's three inches from my nipple. Then two.
He undoes my bra and tosses it aside.
His mouth closes around my nipple.
I moan as softly as I can.
The pressure of his mouth sends pangs of lust straight to my core. My sex clenches. My knees buckle. It's impossible to stay quiet, so I press my palm against my lips and use it to muffle my groans.
When his teeth scrape against my nipple, I can't muffle it anymore. The burst of pain makes everything better. "Nick." My voice is loud. Loud enough someone might hear.
He doesn't stop me. He only bites me harder. "What do you want?"
"To make you feel good."
He slides his hands under my ass and carries me to the couch. He arranges us so I'm kneeling over him, my knees planted outside his thighs, my hands planted on his shoulders.
He rolls my stocking to my ankle. His fingertips slide over the sides of my patent black flat.