Midnight’s Queen (Stroke of Midnight #3)

Chapter 13

Portia’s feet hit the pavement with angry strikes. Her entire afternoon had gone to shit. After Killian’s bombshell, she’d thrown herself into the business of running the Tremaine Corporation. That had lasted all of thirty minutes. That was when she’d received the analysts’ reports.

The Solveig Consortium was shaping up to be a much bigger problem than anyone had expected. They’d flown under the radar because no one had considered them a threat. Their hacks had failed. Their corporate espionage had been a joke.

Yet here they were, becoming the latest threat to her control of the company.

Fuck that. She’d fight them every step of the way. Starting with their representative in her city. Aleksander Lind.

Portia slowed to a quick walk as she entered the hotel and crossed the lobby. She knew exactly where she was going this time.

Knowing the elevator would be interminably slow, she took the stairs, running up them with ease.

Minutes later she stood in front of Alek’s hotel room. She pounded on the door.

No response. Raising her hand to knock again, it suddenly—finally—opened.

“Portia?” The surprise and pleasure in Aleks’s voice warmed her, but she ruthlessly forced the soft feelings down. That wasn’t what she was here for.

She pushed past him into the suite, ignoring the tingle of electricity that raced through her where they touched.

“Please, come in.” She caught the humor in his voice as he closed the door. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Her laugh was harsh. “I’m sure you didn’t. You’ve been too busy trying to steal my company out from under me.”

Aleks shrugged and she reminded herself not to be distracted by his shifting muscles under the t-shirt he wore. “I told you I was in town on business.”

“You said your employers wanted to meet Dizzie,” she reminded him.

His lips curled into a faint smile. “I believe I also mentioned that they were looking to expand into the city.”

“But you didn’t say that they planned on buying my company for that expansion.” She knew her argument was ridiculous, but it felt so good to get it out. To have someone to yell at, someone to fight with.

Even Tommy hadn’t fought with her. He’d teased and cajoled and charmed her out of her anger, but he’d never fought with her.

Aleks, though. She was sure he’d fight back, not that she understood why that should matter.

She couldn’t yell at her employees, even when they brought her bad news or annoyed her.

She didn’t have friends she could vent to. Besides, complaining made her sound like a spoiled little rich girl.

“You can’t be that naive,” he drawled in that accent of his. “I tried to warn you. My employers hate everything about the Tremaine Corporation. If they could, they’d burn it to the ground in a heartbeat.”

“They sound like Killian,” she muttered.

His brow rose. “Oh? I was under the impression that he wouldn’t sell.”

Sure he was laughing at her, she turned and wandered deeper into the suite. It really was a nice hotel. Beautifully decorated in blues and greens and more neutral colors that evoked the natural beauty of Puget Sound. Art—tastefully abstract but with a hint of the avant-garde that encouraged you to look closer—dotted the walls.

“Please sit.” Aleks had come alongside her and gestured to the sitting room.

Too agitated to sit, she continued to prowl around the room. She whirled around to face him. “You won’t get my company. There is no way the Solveigs will get their grubby hands on my business. You should tell your employers that and go back to where you came from.”

The smile that blossomed on his lips took her breath away. She could only describe his expression as delighted.

And it was directed at her .

Warmth pooled in her belly. No one had ever looked at her like that. Not even Tommy. He’d looked at her with love and kindness and friendship and passion. But never as if she just delighted him.

In that moment, she understood that Aleks was dangerous to more than just the Tremaine Corporation.

“Did you fuck me as part of the job?” The words slipped out. Her stomach roiled at the thought, but she had to know. Had to.

“No.” His response was steady and strong.

Was that relief or disbelief that she felt? Still not satisfied, she lashed out. “Then you must be really bad at your job, because there was no way you didn’t know who I was.”

He took a step closer, his smile sad. “Oh, I knew who you were. I knew everything about you. But until that moment, you were just a name, a face, in a dossier.”

Her laugh was harsh. “Bullshit. You knew nothing about me. It was all some scheme to get closer to me for your employers.”

“Oh, Portia.” The way he said her name made her shiver. “How wrong you are. That night at Razor Jack’s? Almost everything I told you was true. I am in town for business. I had just arrived. I was restless from my flight and I was curious about the bar that you’d become a regular at.”

She sucked in a breath. Did her own people even know she was a regular at Razor Jack’s?

“My curiosity got the best of me. I wanted a drink, so I decided to check it out. I never imagined that you would be there. Our analysts hadn’t figured out your schedule yet.”

Okay, that was both reassuring and creepy.

He stepped closer. “Then I watched you shoot that guy down.” Real amusement colored his words. “That’s when I knew you were more than just a dossier—and that we didn’t know a damn thing about you.”

His words sent shivers coursing through her. Why? Why did this man of all people affect her like this?

Unnerved by the feelings he stirred up, she countered, “You still know nothing about me.” That was the truth.

Wasn’t it?

“That’s not true.” His smile was soft, kind. He closed the distance between them, stopping just within arm’s reach. “I know that if I trace my finger just up your jaw here, you’ll give a breathy little sigh.”

He suited action to words, his touch a whisper along her jaw and behind her ear.

Her breath caught.

See, he was wrong, she hadn’t sighed.

His chuckle was deep and warm and she fought the sensations it aroused.

“When I cup the back of your head and thread my fingers into your hair, you relax into my touch.”

He was wrong, dammit. He had to be. But when his hand cupped her head gently, she wanted to sink against him.

“And when I kiss you right here,” he whispered, his breath feathering over the sensitive skin by her ear, “you’ll melt into me.”

His lips were soft and warm against her skin. She shivered and leaned into him, seeking his warmth, his touch, his?—

“No.” She put her hands against his chest and pushed away. If her knees wobbled a little, well, that was to be expected. She’d recently run up several flights of stairs.

He released her immediately, his smile fading.

“It’s just physical,” she argued. Was she trying to convince him or herself?

“It’s more than physical, Portia. You felt it too. I’ve never clicked with someone that quickly. That deeply. Tell me you have.”

“I was married!” She and Tommy had been compatible. Had been happy.

“To your childhood sweetheart. Your compatibility had years and years to grow. This isn’t the same,” he growled.

“It’s just physical,” she repeated.

The light in his eyes faded and his expression smoothed out. Watching him withdraw tore at something deep inside her.

“If that’s what you need to believe.” He stepped back.

Her arm shot out to grab his shirt. He stiffened and glanced down at her hold. “What are you doing, Portia?”

“I don’t know.” Running on pure instinct, she tightened her grip and tugged him closer.

He resisted for a moment, but when momentum brought their bodies together, his strength kept them from tumbling to the floor.

Her arms snaked around his neck. One hand cupped his head as he had hers. His hair was short and soft against her fingers. She remembered weaving her fingers through it that night when he’d kissed his way down her body.

Heat flooded her cheeks and pooled between her legs. Embarrassed and aroused, she tugged his head down to kiss him.

“Are you sure?” he whispered against her lips. “Don’t toy with me. Please.”

“I’m sure,” she murmured back. “I don’t know what this is, but I’m not toying with you.” The last bit of distance between them disappeared as she pressed her lips to his.

She nibbled at his lips. His resulting groan sent shivers through her body.

When she nipped at his lower lip, his mouth opened and she took full advantage. Her lips slanted over his and her tongue darted inside to tangle with his.

His hands were warm against her back. One inched under the hem of her running shirt. His fingertips teased along the sensitive skin of her lower back.

One particularly delicate caress tickled and she gasped and arched into him. The move pressed her breasts into his chest.

His hands slid down her back to cup her butt and she practically purred. His fingers curled into the taut muscle compressed by her pants and he lifted her.

“Wow,” she murmured. Her legs curled around his hips and her arms tightened around his neck. Then they were moving.

Portia didn’t care where he was taking her. She only wanted more. More kisses. More of his strength pressed against her.

She didn’t know how they made it to the couch without him running into anything, but they did. His hands shifted to the backs of her thighs and she released her legs from behind his back. He lowered them down to the sofa.

Her knees bracketed his and sank into the soft cushions. The position aligned her center with his hard length.

Remembering how he had felt inside her, she rocked against him. Her running tights were skintight, a barely-there barrier between them.

His hands cupped her ass again, presser her closer to his erection. Aleks tore his mouth from hers. She moaned in frustration.

His responding chuckle was sin personified. He nibbled along her jawline, then dragged his tongue over the tendons in her neck.

Her fingers curled into his shoulders and she arched back, giving him access to the sensitive skin of her neck.

He pressed kisses along her clavicle and then to the bare skin above her top. Her head dropped back in pleasure and her brain short-circuited.

He raised one hand and gently cupped her right breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple again and again, stimulating it to a stiff peak. Her breasts pressed against—strained against—the compression of her sports bra and she whimpered.

“You okay?” His words fluttered over damp skin, pebbling her skin with goosebumps.

“Uh-huh.” How was she supposed to answer when he wasn’t kissing her any longer?

Trusting him to hold her in place, she released her grip on his shoulders and instead tightened her grip on his shirt. Gathering up the fabric by the handful, she bared his whole back.

He lifted his head from her chest and reached one hand behind his neck to grab the material. In one smooth move, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. Her body quivered when he removed it completely.

The man was built. Firm chest muscles dusted lightly with hair that narrowed to a thin trail over rock-hard abs.

Portia hummed in approval and leaned into him again. Her lips met the curve of his neck and she inhaled. He smelled good. Like man and sweat and a hint of cologne or deodorant. Whatever it was, he smelled so good. She buried her face against his neck.

His hands skimmed up her sides, lifting her shirt as they moved. Echoing his earlier move, she sat up and let him free her from the fabric.

Aleks’s gaze dropped to her newly revealed flesh. Heat flared in his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled. His hands cupped and molded her breasts.

His mouth dropped to her cleavage, made more plentiful by her bra. He pressed open-mouthed kisses against her skin while his thumbs teased over her nipples.

She wanted him closer. Skin to skin. But there was no sexy way out of her sports bra. Dammit!

Frustrated and turned on, she was trying to figure out how to get out of her damn bra when his phone rang.

“Ignore it,” she whispered, then nipped his earlobe.

The phone trilled again. And again.

“I can’t,” he finally gasped. “It’s work.”

Work. For the Solveigs.

His words were as effective at dousing her ardor as cold water.

“I’ve got to go.” She wiggled off his lap, suddenly grateful for the tight spandex that still covered her breasts.

She ducked to grab her shirt, cursing his hotel room—cursing him—for his ability to steal her common sense and make her clothes fall off.

“Portia.” He reached for her hand but she stepped back.

His gaze bounced between her and his phone, which had stopped ringing for a moment, then started right back up again.

“Duty calls.” She pulled on her shirt, grateful it hid her face for a moment. She didn’t want him to see her disappointment.

The interruption served as a reminder that she couldn’t—shouldn’t—repeat the mistake of their earlier night. She had too much to focus on—the never-ending problems her father left behind, keeping the company moving forward, and now the threat posed by the Solveig Consortium—to get involved with anyone. Especially not someone from enemy number one.

Ignoring the fact that she had appeared unannounced at his hotel room, Portia said, “Please set up an appointment with my assistant the next time you want to meet.” She looked past Aleks’s shoulder as she spoke. She needed distance and she needed it now.

“Portia,” he said again, just loud enough to hear over the phone. “Please stay. We can talk about this.”

As much as she would like to know what he and his employers spoke about, there was no way she was rehashing this with him.

All she wanted was to get home and go to bed. And hope that tomorrow was a better day.

“Good night, Mr. Lind.” She turned and walked to the door like a queen.