Chapter 25
Dom
“We could always just skip out,” I said as I did up my belt. “Grab a cab and go on the London Eye or find one of those three-story restaurants in China Town and hide for the rest of the day.” Or do something else that involved less clothes and more moaning.
Harry flicked a glance at me as he pulled up his trousers.
I really tried not to stare, but it was difficult when all I wanted was to lock the door and wrap myself around him.
I wish he knew how dangerous it was for him to be in the small bedroom alone with me.
Especially when he bent over to slip on his shoes and exposed his ass. Right in front of a mirror as well.
“It’s tempting, but we’re already on the boat,” Harry said carefully as he rose, looked all soft and inviting, and obviously I was plotting ways to take advantage of it. Because that’s what good friends did.
It had been nearly a week since I'd seen him, and I was going stir-crazy. We were both too busy with work, and I'd stopped trusting myself after nearly jumping for Harry's cock at brunch.
He actually looked like he’d lost weight, which concerned me even more. If he was so stressed that he wasn’t eating properly again, I needed to step up my cooking game. It would be a good excuse to invite him over as well.
If I really pushed him, I could probably lead him to the bed. But they were announcing the result of the vote, and I couldn’t take that away from him.
We were in his room on his family's sprawling yacht. It was the same room he had every year for the Fischer Summer Gala; the only difference was that Mallory had finally put my room next to his.
Dinner, an orchestra, schmoozing, fireworks; and there was never anyone new. The Fischer siblings were the only reason I still attended, even though it was just like every other party I went to. The only difference was that they were on the Thames instead of at a venue.
It was held the same day every year, no matter the weather.
Stalls were set up along the banks of the river; with locals and tourists enjoying themselves, all waiting for the fireworks that would erupt at midnight from the two boats that flanked the yacht.
But this year, instead of giving Harry admiring smirks and flirting with him while we got dressed, I was furiously sending S.O.S. messages to my cock.
I gave a sideways glance at his small suitcase squeezed in next to his bedside table. I was sure he'd hidden my present from ‘Molly’ there.
He hummed to himself as he found his reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door, and frowned. “Maybe getting away might be best,” he said. “It might save people from the horrors of this pink suit.”
“I'm not gonna lie, it’s pretty intense.”
Pinstripe white and salmon pink wasn't a good look on most people, especially someone with Harry's complexion. Making him blush seemed unfair with that colour palette.
I'd already pulled on my navy suit with a pastel blue shirt and lining. I just wished Harry had done something like take secretive glances or outright stared as I stripped for him. But I got nothing. It was for the best, really.
Harry sighed as he grabbed a white vest from the shelves in the closet.
“I'm sure she paid off the stylists. Who in their right mind would wear this thing when the theme is ‘Ocean Breeze’?”
I stepped in close, brushing my chest against his back just to see how he would react, but he was too focused on his appearance. My lips hovered over his birthmark and I wanted to see what he’d do if I kissed him there.
It wasn't exactly the best time to tell him how fuckable he looked.
I placed my hand on his shoulders, grinning at him in the mirror. “What about getting rid of it? I'm sure you've got something else tucked away in your room.”
He stilled, his eyes shooting to his suitcase before meeting mine in the mirror.
Thank God I was the king of innocent smiles because there was no way I could have held myself back if he told me what he had in there. I didn't think he'd opened the present yet, but it looked like he had a pretty solid idea of what I'd sent him.
“As soon as they announce the results, I am cutting Mum out of The Foundation.” He scowled. “I haven't had the energy to fight her with everything else going on, but this is just ridiculous. All anyone is going to talk about is this hideous suit.”
“Do you want to swap then?” I asked as I moved a hand, dropping my head onto his shoulder. I adored the way he sucked in a quick breath as my hand trailed down his bare arm. It was the closest I had been to him in ages.
“Then we'll both look awkward. I can at least save you from her,” he sighed again. “No, I'll just suffer the indignity and let people whisper about why a thirty-one-year-old man still allows his mother to dress him.”
“You’ve been working towards this for so long that you’re basically a natural. There’s nothing to fret over.”
“I’m not fretting,” he said, his eyes slowly closing, giving me a chance to run my gaze over the bare skin of his throat while imagining what I could do to help him relax.
My mind floated back to Christian's offer of escaping with him, but I had someone else I'd rather run away with.
I forced a grin as I eased back so he could pull on his shirt. “You know, if they weren’t announcing the vote, I’d whisk you away to some fabulous destination where you could forget all about The Foundation and your family and your—”
I cut myself off, my eyes widening before I dipped my head with an awkward cough.
“From my what, Dom?” he asked softly.
Shit, I'd really just stuck my foot in it.
I let him go and straightened, meeting his gaze in the mirror. I’d only just hidden the stupid mix of pain and fucking guilt that hounded me every second I was with him, but it was rearing its head again.
“From your wedding,” I said roughly. “Er, I mean, there’s going to be all that planning and organising. I know how much you hate that kind of thing.”
It was better to say that than ask him to ditch Molly completely for the guy who had been lying to him nonstop since she left.
“Really, though,” I said, stepping in front of him. “How are you doing?”
A nice, natural segue into the one thing about him I wanted to know nothing about.
I unconsciously knocked his hands away from the buttons of his shirt, taking over like I always did before these boring events.
“Can we talk about Molly later? I don’t know if I can think about it just before the vote,” he said.
My hands paused as I reached the middle of the shirt, just below his chest and above his stomach. It was another perfect place to hold him still while I kissed him.
“That’s a strange way to say it,” I replied, keeping my focus on the buttons as I went for the next one.
He never told me about the argument he'd had with her or what kind it was.
He probably thought everything was hunky dory with her since we started sexting.
I stayed away from casual conversation, like how the wedding was going.
Some weird part of me said that lying about Molly's holiday with stories of her family and events was somehow crossing a line.
Sexting? Fine. Talking about the holiday? Cardinal sin.
I ignored the way Harry sucked in his stomach as he frowned at the way his suit hugged his figure. I wanted to tell him he was sexy as fuck as he was. I didn't need him to be anything else.
I couldn’t control myself. Each light brush of my fingers against him sent a new wave of tension rolling through me. I kept my head dipped, focused on the buttons, even though his hands were twitching, and his short breaths were driving me just as mad as the look on his face at brunch.
All I'd needed to do was accidentally slip as I reached the last button, and I could stroke his cock to get him going.
Harry cleared his throat, and I nearly jumped as I whipped my hands back, mentally scolding myself. But the tension was fun.
“Anyway, it’s the same every year, isn’t it?” he replied. His face was nearly expressionless, but his business face was solidly in place. The only way I’d get a reaction from him was to drop to my knees and play out one of my many fantasies.
“You’ll be okay,” I replied, adjusting his collar and sweeping the backs of my nails along the delicate line of his throat.
He naturally arched away from me as I found my favourite birthmark. I wanted to believe he was so used to me touching him that it relaxed him instead of setting him on edge like it used to.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” I said, fixing him with the confident look that got me out of hundreds of bullshit situations. “And you’re going to smash it today with the Board like you do every day.”
He straightened, returning my smile, his shoulders lowering. “I’m not sure what I’d do without you,” he said, his warm voice whispering over me as I met his trusting eyes.
“You’d get by, I promise,” I said, patting his chest over his salmon-pink shirt.
I switched back to fiddling with his collar so he couldn’t feel my shaking hands. “It’s me who worries about what my life would be like without you.”
As I finished his collar, a worn piece of sea glass slipped out from the folds of my loose white shirt as if it was cresting from stormy waves.
I felt like I needed to hide it from him, like I didn’t deserve to wear it. The only time I took it off was when I fucked someone, but I always made sure I had it when I stroked myself to him.
I suggested the holiday when he bought it after his grandmother’s funeral, to drag him away from all the crap his mum was pulling with the press. His sisters had each other, but I wanted to be the one he leaned on.