Chapter 38
Samantha
The Parisien hotel was beautiful—five stories, built of cream stone, with doors of rich wood reinforced with black iron. Medieval and modern and classic, all in one. I would have looked out of place there in my jeans and tee, but I kept my head held high and my back straight as if I belonged there. It was all in the attitude.
When I told the desk clerk who I was, he slid a key card across the desk to me. “Merci, mademoiselle,” he said politely. I was almost at the elevator when my phone rang. It was Aidan.
“Coming to my hotel, Samantha?” he said when I answered. “That’s a bold move.”
My heart was racing, but I tried to sound cool. “What can I tell you?” I said as the elevator doors closed. “You’re an excellent salesman. You’ve almost convinced me, even though you never found me.”
“Almost?”
“You said something about talking to me in person,” I said. “I’m almost in your room, Aidan. Where are you?”
“Ten minutes,” he said, and for the first time he sounded leashed, as if he was keeping control. “I’ve been out searching for you, but I’ll be there in ten minutes. Go in my room and wait for me, and don’t take your clothes off.”
“I never said I was going to.” I was totally going to.
“You can’t wait to be naked,” he said. “But I’m telling you not to strip. Not because I don’t want you naked—I do. I’d just rather take your clothes off of you myself. And believe me, I’ll do it slowly just to torture you.”
I swiped his keycard and opened the door to his room. “I see. And who takes your clothes off?”
“Eight minutes,” Aidan said, and hung up.
He had a luxury room, with a soft sofa and dark wood desk. A bank of windows looked over the 7th Arrondissement. A bedroom opened off to one side. I dropped my messenger bag on the sofa, sat down, and relaxed, toeing off my shoes and flexing my tired tourist feet.
Eight minutes later, the door opened and Aidan walked in. I had to catch my breath. I loved Aidan in a suit, and I definitely loved him naked, but something about Aidan in jeans and a tee made a pulse start deep in my belly, my nipples going raw inside my bra. Our eyes caught, and he ran a hand through his hair, looking me up and down where I lounged on the sofa—fully clothed, as instructed.
“I win,” I said.
He shook his head. “Sarah the CEO,” he said. “I should have guessed.”
I felt myself smiling, a giddy feeling going through my blood. This man just got me. Pieces and all, he got me.
He held out his hand, and I took it, standing up. He swung me over his shoulder as if I was weightless and carried me into the bedroom.
“What are we doing?” I said.
“What I promised,” he replied.
He dropped me on the bed on my back and looked down at me. “No shoes,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll deal with the rest. Slowly.”
He undid the button of my jeans and pushed the hem of my shirt up an inch, trailing his fingertips along the skin of my belly. Already I bit back a moan.
“Be quiet,” Aidan said. “You’re going to be waiting.”
He had two days of scruff on his jaw, which was so sexy it drove me crazy. When he tugged my jeans down, his biceps flexed, along with his forearms. “You’re in a very good mood for someone with jet lag,” I said as the denim slid down my legs.
“I’m going to be inside you shortly, so of course I’m in a good mood,” he said.
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
“Your pants are already off,” he pointed out. “Any objections?”
“Not that I can think of.”
He slid a hand up my bare calf to the back of my knee, making me shiver. He moved my leg wider and bent to my inner thigh, running his tongue over one spot, then sucking on it, pulling the skin between his teeth. I gasped at the sting, going hot and wet in my panties.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said when he finished.
I was breathing hard. “You said you’d tell me what we’ll do about our work situation,” I managed to remind him.
“Yes, that.” He moved to my other inner thigh, positioning my leg just so. He ran a fingertip up almost to my pussy, then down again, watching the goosebumps on my skin. He really didn’t seem to be in a hurry. “The company is buying a building in Chicago,” he said. “It’s the building the four of us used to live in in the old neighborhood. It’s run-down and will be condemned if we don’t do something. It isn’t our best investment, but the partners don’t want to let it go. Call us sentimental, I guess.”
I watched as he kicked his shoes off and pulled off his shirt, then got back on the bed between my bare legs. He was impossible to look away from, all dark hair and cheekbones and scruff. “What does that have to do with me?” I asked.
He ran his fingertips along the outside of my hip, over my hipbone, then under my shirt. “It’s going to be a special community-building project instead of a for-profit project,” he said matter-of-factly. “And you’re going to be in charge.”
I sat up on my elbows. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re no longer going to work for me as an executive assistant. Instead you’ll work for Tower VC as a special executive, in charge of the Chicago project. What it does, what it costs, everything. The decisions will all be yours.”
I stared at him, shocked. He wasn’t looking at me—he was inching my shirt up, looking at the skin being revealed on my belly and my ribs. “Aidan, I’m not experienced in that kind of thing.”
He shrugged, as if that didn’t matter. “You’re working with four partners who have experience,” he said. “Ask us anything. And since profit doesn’t drive this project—real value does—you don’t have to be cutthroat. You only have to do what you think is best.” He glanced up at me and smiled. “Besides, you can do anything you set your mind to.”
His confidence in me made me fall in love with him even further. And it was very, very hot. I met his eye and said, “Do I get a raise?”
He grinned, enjoying this. “We won’t discuss money while I’m between your legs,” he said, his hand moving up my inner thigh again. “But it will definitely be discussed.”
His finger slid into my panties and lightly inside me, rubbing. I gasped and lay back again, luxuriating in the pleasure of that finger. Negotiation or not, with one fingertip Aidan could make me do anything. “I agree,” I said.
“Good.” His magic fingertip moved to my clit, wetting it with my juices and circling it slowly.
When I was worked up and squirming, he took his hand out again and pushed my T-shirt up, revealing my bra. He took the shirt off, and then the bra, taking his time, touching and kissing my skin. He pulled my panties off, drawing them down my legs. Then he took the rest of his clothes off and positioned himself back between my spread legs, kissing up my inner thigh.
I was going to die of anticipation. I wasn’t going to live another ten minutes—I was going to expire. “Aidan,” I said, reminding him. “You promised.”
He knew what I meant. He skipped over the aching place between my legs, kissing along my hip and sucking at the skin there. “I love you,” he said. “Is that what you were waiting for? You didn’t have to wait, you know. I would have told you if you hadn’t fled halfway across the world.”
I ran my hands through his hair as he moved up my body. “I love you, too,” I said. “Madly. And you have to admit this way was more interesting.”
“It was.” He licked my nipple, then moved up to my mouth, which he took—finally—in a deep, long, kiss. When we broke off I was wild for him, open and ready. He slid inside me and we both made a sound of satisfied pleasure.
“You’re mine,” he said as he started to move. He kissed me again, his stubble scraping my skin as his body owned me. “You’re the only woman for me. Admit it, Samantha. You’re fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I said, pulling him down to me, running my lips along his jaw, inhaling him with every breath. “I’m yours. You know all the pieces of me.”
He did know my pieces, and he held them with care. He also knew my body, and when I finally came—after long moments of torture—I fell apart.
He came, too, and then he kissed me, a kiss that made me ache and promised me everything. Everything I wanted, everything I was willing to work and sacrifice for. Everything that life could give me. I could have all of it.
As if he read my thoughts, Aidan smiled against my skin. “This is us, Samantha,” he said. “This is you and me. Forever.”