8. Carter
Chapter eight
Carter
S loan’s comments play on repeat days after he’s gone. The people who work here, hell even the town, should be part of my team.
I always knew we had the same end goal; keep the mountain running without altering the state of the town. The disconnect is in their blatant skepticism. I didn’t want to hear the doubt I could see in their faces, so I went out of my way to avoid it. Them . I figured they’d come around when I succeeded, though right now it’s looking less and less likely I will, justifying their distrust.
How did Sloan put it? They might offer to help if they knew what I had in mind. Maybe by leaving them out I’ve let pride get in the way of good judgment. After all, the town survived until this point without me, so they must be more resourceful than I’ve given them credit for. I should tap into that, just like Sloan suggested.
I can’t help smiling as I recall his words. It’s clear by the way he went still he didn’t think about them before speaking, and he seemed embarrassed to have said anything at all, like he had no business commenting on my ideas. He may not have the title I do, but that doesn’t mean his opinions don’t have merit. In fact, they’re probably accurate. He’s quite the perceptive little thing .
Once again, his image takes over my thoughts. Beautiful, objective, and now I can add smart to his list of attributes. He’s quickly becoming someone I want to see more of, and only part of that is due to lust. Which only seems to grow after each time he visits.
How he can relax me and arouse me at the same time I still don’t know, though it’s a sensation I’m starting to crave.
It probably makes me an asshole, but I’m no longer embarrassed by how my body responds to him. Not in the least. It’s something I want more of, something I want to take further, if he’s willing. I have a feeling he’ll hold firm though, the salacious nature of our encounters too sordid for him to ignore despite the fact nothing truly unethical has happened. I respect that. I’m just not sure I can ignore what I feel much longer, conflicts of interest be damned.
Would things be different if I stopped getting massages? Since they leave me feeling like I can breathe despite the weight of the resort hanging over my head, they’ve started to feel critical to my survival. Or maybe that’s just him. Fuck. I don’t know anymore.
One thing’s certain—I need a solution, and I’m out of ideas. I pick up the phone and page Janice.
“How can I help you Mr. Quinn?” Thank God for Janice, always ready to jump in whenever I need her.
“Can you track Finn down and ask him to come to my office?”
“Right away.”
I disconnect and pull out the map of the resort, intending to spread it across my desk. Then I hear Sloan’s voice in my head, encouraging me to be part of the team. I take the map and spread it over the coffee table, where Finn and I can brainstorm as equals.
A curt knock precedes his entry. He takes several steps toward the desk before realizing I’m not there, pausing mid-stride to search the room. He blinks in quick succession when he sees me on the couch, but his surprise is abruptly replaced with apprehension as he strides to me.
“Janice said you wanted to see me,” he says stiffly.
“Yes.” I school my expression into a blank slate to match his. It may be my fault he’s skeptical, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to show any weakness. Not until I know I can trust him with what I’m about to say. “I’ve withheld information about the condition of the resort and my plans for it while I explored the best options to move forward. A few weeks ago, I learned my original plan might not be feasible, but doing nothing is not an option if we want the resort to survive. As the head of resort operations, I wanted to give you the opportunity to weigh in on the best way to move forward.”
Finn’s jaw moves almost imperceptibly as he grinds his teeth together. “How bad is the situation?”
“Dire. I can float the operation for another two seasons, fixing issues as they come up and employing minimal staff at their current salaries. But we both know the equipment could use an overhaul, the wages and benefits should increase if we want to attract the right people, and we need to have contingencies for making more snow if the weather doesn’t cooperate. That won’t happen if we don’t find new ways to bring in money.”
“You mean sell more lift tickets.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.
“Correct. I think developing new terrain is the solution. If I’m going to buy all new lift equipment, why not put it on new runs, which will increase capacity and bring in the money to replace the existing equipment in two years’ time.”
“But?” He arches an eyebrow.
I signal for him to join me on the couch. He waits a beat before moving, sitting as far as he can while still close enough to see the map .
Over the next thirty minutes I walk him through the original plan, the hiccup with the endangered rodent, and the pros and cons of pursuing that development despite knowing some of the risks up front.
“I follow the need for more visitors to increase revenue, but does it have to be beginner terrain?” He rubs his jaw thoughtfully while studying the map.
“It’s cheaper to put lifts on green runs than black runs.”
“Not if you spend millions just getting approval to do it. What about this right here?” He points to a section that contains intermediate-to-advanced terrain. “Right now, you have to hike to this spot, but it’s some of the best terrain in North America. A bucket-list item for advanced riders. With lift access you could draw in more people for that terrain, but since it’s a fraction of the size of that beginner area you could build one lift instead of six.”
I rub my jaw, running through the numbers in my head.
“That’s still a lot of money to spend on a lift that only appeals to a niche group. I don’t want to overdevelop the area and change the atmosphere of the town, but I’m not sure this section of expert runs will bring in enough visitors to put us in the black.”
“What if you charged a special access fee for that lift to help offset the cost. I bet people would gladly pay for the privilege of not having to hike. They’d get three runs in for every one run they can get currently. I’d take that deal.”
Though I don’t like the idea of different prices for different terrain, I suspect Finn’s right about people being willing to pay extra so they don’t have to spend their time hiking to the slopes they want to ride.
“You don’t think we risk alienating people with tiers of access for different ticket prices?”
“I think that’s actually a way to dissuade riders who aren’t ready for the expert runs, sort of how the need to hike does now. If they don’t want to pay for the upgraded ticket, they’re less likely to get themselves into a spot where we need to rescue them.”
I nod absently. In some ways it’s an elegant solution, a subtle request that riders avoid attempting things above their skill set without telling them no outright.
“We need another environmental study before we can move forward, but since the area is smaller Maddox could probably complete that in a few months. Thanks for your input.” I hold my hand out. Finn hesitates a moment before taking it in a firm, almost challenging grip.
“You want me to keep quiet about this?” His gaze is suspicious. I suppose I’ve earned that, although I’m still leery about throwing out ideas that I’m not in a position to back up.
“I want you to tell your staff you’re helping me develop a long-term plan for the resort. I’d rather not divulge that plan until we have a better idea of what it is, because there’s still a chance this doesn’t work, and I don’t want to tout solutions before they’re real. But the employees should know my plans are intended to benefit the town, not cater to the tourist dollars.”
Finn’s hard jaw relaxes as his grip loosens. I think that means he’s giving me the benefit of the doubt. Between that and the makings of a solution to my problems, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Yet I still reach for the phone.
** *
I hang up with Maddox as Sloan pushes open the door, wringing his hands together as his eyes dart back and forth. He stills when his gaze settles on the massage table folded in the corner, cheeks flushing.
“Sorry about that.” He makes a beeline for it, dragging it to the center of the room even before he’s removed the backpack. “I um… I’m not usually so forgetful.” He’s cute when he’s flustered . It takes every ounce of strength not to crack a smile.
“Let me help.” I grab the stack of sheets and towels from the chair by my desk as I round it, coming to a stop across the table from him.
“I forgot I left those too.” Long lashes hide his eyes, which are focused downward. I hate that I’m making him uncomfortable, but this bashful side is adorable.
“Unless you have other clients you see outside the spa, you can keep the table here. It doesn’t make much sense to cart it back and forth all the time.” I drape the sheet over the firm cushion the way I’ve seen him do several times before.
“Thanks.” He seems to snap back to the present, taking the backpack off his shoulders. “Why don’t you change while I finish setting up.”
I retreat to the bathroom and strip off my suit, emerging in just the towel. Sloan watches me carefully as I cross the room.
“You’re moving better than you were the other day.”
“I took your advice and talked to Finn.” I slip under the sheet and hand him the towel I no longer need. “It was productive.”
“Does that mean you’ve found a solution?”
As usual, my breath hitches the moment he makes contact with my skin. “It’s too soon to say that, but we have a revised plan.”
“Must be promising. You’re not nearly as tight as you have been the past few weeks.” His hands pass over my back with gentle strokes, not the firm, kneading motion he typically uses. It’s so soft, so tender, it’s almost like he’s indulging himself instead of fixing me. I don’t mind. Absent the tension I’ve been feeling, there’s no need for him to be aggressive.
Strange that talking to Finn brought just as much relief as Sloan’s massages typically do. How did he even know to suggest that? Is it because they’re related, or because he’s that perceptive? I’m tempted to think it’s the latter, which makes him that much more intriguing. He pegged the situation from the outside better than I did from the inside, and he wasn’t afraid to tell me that. How could I not be intrigued? How could I not want to spend more time with someone that observant?
As his hands wander gently over my body, I feel a tinge of guilt for calling him up here. I didn’t need Sloan to find relaxation, I just didn’t know how else to see him. To tell him that I followed his advice and feel better than I have in months.
Wait, if I’m no longer tense will I have a reason to see him? Would he even want to see me? Given the way he keeps reiterating it’s not his job to finish these massages in the way my body desires, it’s clear he’s not big on breaking the rules. Normally, I’d feel the same way, but I can’t help thinking the fact he isn’t a direct subordinate of mine gives us a little wiggle room. It’s still not an ideal situation, but it doesn’t have to be a deal-breaker either, right?
It's ill-advised though. Exactly what my father warned me against. So, despite all the reasons I could come up with to justify seeing Sloan without the massage excuse, doing so is a dangerous proposition. Unfortunately, my mind and body are too lax to think of a reason not to follow that thread. His hands really are magic.
I’m nearly comatose when Sloan holds the sheet for me to rotate, which I do knowing full well how I’m likely to react. I suspect he does too, but if it bothers him, he wouldn’t have come. I settle into the cushion and close my eyes, basking in the subtle hum of electricity passing between us, which is heightened given the lack of tension inside me.
Sloan’s hands wander leisurely up and down my body, softly massaging my muscles. It’s a soothing motion, meant to calm me, I think. It makes my body feel light, almost like I’m floating. Peaceful.
My breathing is slow and even, my eyes heavy. Without the burden of my typical stress, I’m just conscious enough to catalogue the initial twinge of arousal his touch elicits, and I hear myself moan softly. I’m vaguely aware of the fact I shouldn’t make any sounds, but I’m too comfortable to dwell on it. Then my breath hitches unexpectedly, and I moan again.
The first thing I register is my rapid pulse. Then the cool air on my upper thigh. A faint tingle near my balls. Keeping my eyes closed, I groan once more, louder this time, and Sloan stills.
“Was that… Did I?” He yanks his hands off me. “Oh my God. I was lost in my head, just going through the motions. I wasn’t paying attention to…Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
He paces back and forth, wringing his hands. Before I have time to second guess myself, I sit up and reach out to grab them, tugging him closer.
“Let’s stop ignoring the obvious. You have an effect on me I clearly enjoy.” Sloan’s gaze follows mine as I glance down at my lap, where my balls still vibrate with the memory of his finger brushing against them. “Is it fair to say you enjoy it too?”
He lowers his stare to the ground and gives a subtle nod.
“Does that embarrass you?” I cup his chin and tip it up, forcing his eyes to mine.
“No.”
“Then why won’t you look at me? ”
“I can’t risk my career over a case of lust, no matter how much I’m tempted to. I should’ve been more careful.” He holds his breath, blinking rapidly, almost like he’s bracing for my response.
My hand falls to his hip, releasing him while still keeping him close. Please God, don’t let this be a mistake.
“My actions have probably made it seem like I want your body, and I do. But I like you, Sloan. I like the way you make me feel, the way you make me think. I was drifting off thinking how nice it would be to explore that. I want to. Do you understand?”
This time when he looks at me it’s with a mix of desire and… hope, or is that just wishful thinking? My cock strains against the sheet, anticipating his answer, though he still doesn’t speak.
“Even though you don’t report to me directly, I’m still the guy who issues your paycheck, Sloan. I can’t make the first move.” The knuckles of the hand clutching his hip turn white. “What do you want?”
I’m expecting him to bite his lip and shrug, pack up and leave, or give me a tentative kiss. Instead, he slips his hand under the sheet, slides it up my leg and wraps his fingers around my bulging erection, leaving me both breathless and speechless for a full five seconds.
“Fuck,” I hiss, when my mind comes back online.
“This doesn’t usually happen until after I’ve massaged your hands.” His fingers knead my shaft.
“Noticed that huh?” I suck in a breath of air as Sloan slides his palm over my length.
“Kind of hard not to. What makes today different?”
“Like you said, I’m relaxed. And I’m tired of trying to pretend I don’t want this.” The sheet falls away as I reach forward to wrap a hand around his neck. Pulling him between my legs I bring our lips together, and my heart lurches so deep in my chest it’s like it’s beating for the first time.
That’s… new.
Sloan’s lips are indulgent. The perfect mix of supple and firm, just like the man himself whom I know has both a soft and formidable side. His gentle mannerisms hide an inner strength, that moral compass I witnessed at the wedding, and I feel a twinge of guilt for being the man to tempt that integrity because of the lust I feel. Then I hear the sharp intake of air, the breathy sigh he gives me in return, and my dick jumps in his hand as weeks of pent-up tension threaten to unleash from his simple touch.
Something that feels this good can’t be wrong, right?
“This is a bad idea,” Sloan mumbles against my mouth.
“Why?” I nip at his lip before taking it again.
“I work for you. I can’t afford to have this interfere with my job.”
I pull back enough to see his furrowed brow and stroke his cheek with my thumb. “If I said I wasn’t the type of guy to play games with peoples’ jobs, would you believe me?”
Sloan locks his gaze on mine. “Yes,” he whispers.
“Good.” I pull him in for another kiss, coaxing his lips apart as tenderly as I can despite the voice in my head that wants to devour him. A sultry little groan greets me when my tongue slides along his, and my cock lurches again, a subtle reminder that it wants Sloan to keep petting it.
“Much as I love this, Janice is right outside the door, and I don’t want her to hear what I’m doing to you,” I growl against his mouth.
“You haven’t done anything to me yet,” he says between kisses, so I call his bluff, sliding my hand over the bulge between his legs and giving it a firm squeeze. He shudders, his head tipping back as his mouth falls open. I capture the moan with a kiss before it can escape his lips .
His hands are everywhere, on my thighs, my shoulders, in my hair. I wrap my arms around him, pressing his body to mine and trapping my length against his. Heaven . I rock my hips forward, straining for the friction of his cock along mine before coming to my senses.
Wrapping my hands around his arms, I push him gently away and stand up. The sheet falls to the floor as I walk to my desk and pluck the key card off it, but I make no attempt to catch it. We’re well past modesty.
Sloan stares at me, jaw hanging open, as I stalk back toward him.
“Walk out of here like you’re done and meet me in my room in fifteen minutes.” I press the card into his hand.
“Where’s your room?” His chest heaves erratically as he pockets the key.
“The penthouse. Fifteen minutes.” I give him one last kiss and turn for the bathroom, hoping I can calm myself down enough to walk past Janice without giving away my intentions.