The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

31. One NightNothing

31

ONE NIGHT OR NOTHING

Rafe

I can’t believe I did something so utterly uncharacteristic of me, wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t so sure what had happened.

Matthew set the campaign proposal in front of me at the marketing meeting the other day, and I signed off on it. His briefing must have included the celebrities he’d booked or hoped to book, and I’d missed it.

How could I have been so careless?

I set down my glass, cross to Gunnar, and take his shoulders. “Let me tell you what happened.” I want to beg him to understand, even though admitting my mistake feels like ripping out a piece of my black heart. But the truth matters, no matter how embarrassing, and I need to tell him.

“Then elaborate,” he says, still caustic.

I despise being vulnerable. I hate letting people see my flaws. But in his shoes, I’d feel bought too. When I look into those gorgeous blue eyes and see the hurt, I’d do anything to win his trust again.

“I would never do that to you. I respect you too much,” I begin. “You have to know that.”

“I didn’t think so.” His tone says I owe him a lot more than a vague explanation. “But, seriously, Rafe. What the hell?”

With a surge of regret, I grip him tighter. “Let me check my facts. I want to tell you the truth, but I have to see if my suspicions are right.”

I go to my couch and flip open my laptop on the table. “I put my phone on do not to disturb tonight,” I explain, still a little flustered.

“Okay?” Gunnar says, clearly needing more details.

“I set it so only your texts and calls would come through,” I say, hoping this insight helps Gunnar see my intentions—I wanted to only focus on him tonight. “But Matthew—he’s my marketing director—said he was going to send me final papers this evening for our new marketing campaign and I didn’t want to deal with it knowing you were coming over.”

Except, I fear I know the answer to Gunnar’s what the hell happened question and it lies in my obsession. I click over to my email, ignoring Theresa’s note about the upcoming meetings in London with Bespoke, a company we’re trying to acquire. Instead, I open the note from Matthew, then click on the PDF for the You Do You contract. All I have to do is search for the name Gunnar Ford and it comes up immediately. I close my eyes, drop my head into my hand, and groan in utter frustration. Over myself – I missed this key detail of him.

“What the hell is going on, Rafe?”

“Matthew sent this over to me. It’s the final contract for the You Do You campaign. The one that I signed,” I say meeting his gaze. He’s wary. Of course he is. I haven’t even begun to explain myself fully. But I hope my face and the anguish I feel is a beginning. “Please stay.”

He walks from the window to the couch but doesn’t sit. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Some of the anger is stripped from his tone. But I want to remove it all. He deserves that much for the trust he has given me in our nights together.

“Please,” I implore, reaching for his hand. “I want to explain it fully.”

Gunnar takes my hand. “So talk, Rafe. Tell me what happened,” he says softly, then sits next to me.

I flash back to the other day. When I was driven mad in the conference room with thoughts of him. “I had a meeting last week. The day you left. And I was distracted.”

“No distractions,” Gunnar says gently, reminding me of our motto.

“Exactly. But I was so consumed with thoughts of you.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

“All of them. You. Pleasing you.” My voice turns smoky at the thought of what I want to do to him. Things that will make him shout my name. That will drive him wild.

“Don’t you want me to please you? ” he asks.

It’s such a relief to hear him tease me. I’ve missed it—the flirting and the sarcasm, and all of his utter Gunnar-ness. I missed him too much while he was away.

“It comes down to the same thing,” I say, then return to my explanation. “And I drifted off in the meeting. I lost focus. All I could think about was you and the offer.”

“So then what?” he asks, urging me to keep going.

“I stopped paying attention to anything but your face, your body, and... you .”

His lips twitch in a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” I say, then lift my hand and graze the corner of his lips with my thumb. He bites down on it, and I ask, “This delights you?”

Gunnar gives a very cocky shrug—his signature move. “It sure does. Tell me more, Rafe. What were you thinking about?”

“Where you were. Whether you were contemplating what it would be like to be with me for thirty days. Whether you would say yes. I was obsessed. When my team asked me if I approved of the marketing campaign, I simply said yes.”

“You faked it,” he points out.

I grimace. “I trusted them to put together a good campaign. I hire smart people so I don’t have to be involved in every decision. But this time, apparently, the details involved you.”

“Seems they did,” he says, sounding resigned.

“What would you have preferred me to do if I had been paying attention? Call you and ask whether you wanted to be part of it?” If there’s a way I could have handled this better, I want to know it.

He doesn’t answer immediately, then says quietly, “I suppose so.”

“I wish I’d been on the ball. That I’d heard your name and reached out right away to discuss it with you.” I swallow roughly. “Please know that.”

After a suspenseful pause, he nods. I sigh in relief, but this is only one obstacle. “Are you worried how it would look if you did a deal with my company?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “No. Your company will be lucky to have me as a spokesperson.”

I grin wickedly. “There’s that cocky charm I adore,” I say. Because he said “will.” And I do adore it. I adore him , and that’s truly terrifying.

Gunnar squares his shoulders. “I bring value to Rafe Rodman because I’m me.”

“You do,” I agree.

But Gunnar’s still holding back, judging from the set of his jaw. He exhales, then tells me, “I just don’t want to be blindsided or hoodwinked. I don’t want to be tricked.”

My heart squeezes. I like, so much, that he knows who he is and what he will and won’t tolerate. “I know that. I wouldn’t trick you.”

“And I definitely don’t want to be bought,” he adds. “That’s what bothered me the most—the idea that you’d dangle this sweet deal so I’d say yes to your other offer.”

“I would never do that to you,” I say adamantly. “If it makes you feel any better, my marketing agency selected you for the campaign. Everyone loves you for it.”

“Aww, but maybe I want you to love me,” he teases.

I flinch. It’s a reflex. He’s joking... or is he thinking about the future? Does he—would he—want me to love him someday?

That’s impossible. I won’t let myself love again.

I shake off the thought and focus on the moment. On thirty flirty days and nights.

“I swear I had nothing to do with it. Does that make you happy?”

His grin is sky high. “Incredibly. I don’t want a sweetheart deal. I never want to be offered a contract because I know somebody or because I’m fucking the CEO.”

I release his hand so I can slide a palm up his thigh. In my sternest tone, I say, “But I’m going to be fucking you.”

He smirks. “Are you?”

I’m tired of gamesmanship right now, and I choose the path of brutal honesty. “I want to. I’m a little obsessed with you.” Admitting this lifts a weight from my chest but a new one takes its place.

The strength of my obsession is its own risk.

“I’m a little obsessed too,” Gunnar says, husky and needy as he opens up to me.

Fuck it. There’s no a little obsessed . “I can’t stop thinking about you, Gunnar. I can’t get you out of my head,” I confess as I slide my hands up his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

He leans close, like he’s compelled to be near me, like he has to breathe me in. “Good. It’s like that for me,” he says, looking drunk on me already.

“This is dangerous.” I run my fingers through his hair. I want to touch him everywhere, and once I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.

“I know,” he whispers against my neck then kisses my stubble. “I fucking love that you didn’t shave,” he rasps near my ear.

“I thought you might like the look,” I whisper.

“I can’t get enough of it. Just like I can’t get enough of you.”

We meet each other’s eyes, and I sigh. “I can’t be obsessed. I’ll make worse mistakes, ones that hurt the company, my employees.” I’m thinking about the upcoming Bespoke deal, and the focus I’ll need for that. “And yet I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you.”

Gunnar slides closer, his lips inches from mine, his breath on my face. “So touch me once. Fuck me once. Take me once. Give me one night, and then we’ll walk away.”

One night is better than nothing.