20. Jess
“Ithink Ms. Summers here has offered you quite a bit by way of compensation,” Sean says, “given that we’re almost booked out and you were not on the schedule for arrivals today, Andrew.”
Mr. Grant’s eyes widen as they fall on Sean, who now stands by my side.
“Sean?” he asks, surprised. “What…are you doing here?”
“Westerlyn Hotels has been acquired by Blackwood. I’m here working with Ms. Summers on the transition of the acquisition.”
No surprise, he knows Mr. Grant—of course he does. He’s been in this game for almost two decades, unlike me, juggling months away at my other hotels on the East Coast in Maine, Connecticut, and Massachusetts before working out of the New York City branch.
Mr. Grant puts on a cheerful smile, which I can’t tell if it’s fake or not. “At least there’s someone running this hotel who knows what they are doing,” he says to Sean, completely ignoring me now and somewhat turning his body away in the process.
The audacity. I feel the heat rise to my face and my annoyance at this man switches to indignation. “I have been running this hotel for five years, Mr. Grant,” I tell him. “And before that, another hotel. I know what I’m doing.”
He side-eyes me but otherwise ignores me completely. Instead, he full-on turns his back to me and gives Sean his undivided attention. I catch Emma’s eye over his shoulder, and she looks as irritated and insulted as I feel.
Sean doesn’t seem like he’s willing to let the slight go, saying, “Ms. Summers deserves the credit when it comes to running this hotel, Andrew. She has been more than charitable, especially considering the challenging circumstances.” He lowers his voice, hinting at a private conversation, yet it’s loud enough for me to hear. “I don’t understand why you insist on doing this every single time your company sends you on a business retreat, Andrew. It should be more than enough that you are already compensated for your time by your company and don’t have to pay a penny. And even if you did, we both know you can afford it,” he says, fixing Mr. Grant with a knowing look.
It takes all my willpower not to react to Sean’s burn and laugh out loud.
I’ve already been getting the sense that the man is quite shrewd, but to hear it confirmed by Sean, and that he’s not standing for any of this man’s crap, has me feeling all kinds of ways.
I allow myself to smile, and it’s more than a little smug.
One of the pet peeves I’ve had over the years is hearing about and seeing managers bend over backward to cater to these “rich people types” who show them no respect. To know that Sean is not one to tolerate such behavior, to know that he’s going to call someone out for their rudeness with such elegant grace, and, even more importantly, back me one hundred percent, makes my heart skip a beat with sheer excitement and awe.
Mr. Grant becomes noticeably flustered. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before words actually come out. “You have to see things from my perspective, Sean,” he says with a friendly smile, his voice much calmer and lower, like he’s making an effort to appear benevolent, unlike two seconds ago when he was yelling at Emma. “Travel plans can change unexpectedly, and it’s possible that there was a…well, miscommunication somewhere. You will admit that it’s inconvenient to not be able to check into your room when you intend to.”
In Emma’s expression and her subtle shake of her head, I’m certain there had been no “miscommunication” on our part. Pauline has somehow materialized out of nowhere and communicates a “Not that I know of.”
“It may be what you intended,” I say, making my voice stern enough to draw his attention, yet maintaining the professionalism I take pride in. He reluctantly turns to face me, as I continue, “But we were not made aware of your early arrival. However, we’re more than happy to accommodate, and as I said, we do have a suite available, and dinner is on us.”
The man glances at Sean, almost as if he’s expecting him to say something, maybe even chastise me. Sean doesn’t say a thing, only stands there, confident, unwavering, like he owns not only this hotel, but rather every hotel that was ever built and the cosmos itself.
Mr. Grant finally gives me his full attention. “Yes, yes, good. That sounds acceptable. Thank you, Ms. Summers.”
Sean clears his throat. “It would be advisable to consider extending an apology to Ms. Summers and Mrs. Simpson, wouldn’t you agree, Andrew? They were both doing their jobs, and there is no justification for the manner in which you addressed them.”
I swear it looks like the guy swallowed a lemon.
The way his face pinches together makes me want to die laughing.
I feel like he has never been told to apologize in his entire life, or at least in his adult life. There’s a quiet pause where nobody moves or says anything, but the men stay locked in this intense staring contest.
They stare.
And stare.
Eventually, Mr. Grant nods. “Oh, why not?” He glances at me and Emma. “My apologies, ladies,” he says, a sheepish grin appearing, as if he’s suddenly realized he’s treading on thin ice. “I will be sure to watch my tone from now on. Must be the jet lag talking, you know, ha-ha.” He nods again, trying to ease the tension, and it’s evident that he’s chasing his tail, realizing he overstepped and needs to regain Sean’s favor.
I go to accept his apology, which is more than I ever expected from this encounter, but Sean speaks up again.
“Oh, come on, Andrew. You can do better than that.” The hint of a smirk graces his lips. He’s loving making this guy squirm and giving him a taste of his own medicine.
Mr. Grant’s cheeks redden, and his back straightens as he adjusts his already-immaculate suit jacket, then looks at me and Emma. “Of course, of course. I’m sorry,” he says, releasing another awkward chuckle. “I appreciate your help, ladies. I will take you up on the offer for dinner and a drink, Ms. Summers. And, I’ll make sure my tone is as smooth as a freshly buttered biscuit from here on out.”
“Apology accepted, Mr. Grant,” I tell him in my cheerful voice. I try so hard not to glance over at Pauline, because I know if I do, I won’t be able to hold back a laugh at seeing this jerk of a man put so firmly in his place.
With a nod, he takes the vouchers Emma hands him and walks toward the restaurant. While his steps are slow and leisurely, I notice the tension in his shoulders and the tips of his ears turn red the farther he walks away.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I turn to Sean, but Emma speaks first.
“Mr. Blackwood,” she says, beaming at him, “I don’t want to sound unprofessional here, but that was the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
“I agree,” Pauline says.
Sean chuckles—actually chuckles!—completely unaccustomed to all these Westerlyn hearts swooping his way. “I don’t have use for guests who try to nickel and dime, and he has no business being rude to either of you when you were just doing your jobs. Make a note on his account. Let the others know if he tries anything during the rest of his stay to inform me, and I’ll take care of it.”
“Perfect!” Pauline inclines her head eagerly.
“Of course, sir!” Emma continues to beam at him, and then I hear her fingers dancing across the keys as she pulls up the guy’s information. Sean and I share a brief glance before he heads back to his office while I hang around for another minute or two, just to make sure no one else shows up, or Mr. Grant doesn’t come back.
When we’re alone, Emma gives me the biggest grin.
“Oh…goodness gracious,” Pauline says dryly, giving me a “WTH was that?” expression.
“That was bloody amazing!” Emma swoons, practically bouncing up and down on her heels. “I mean, it was lovely of him to back you up and call out Mr. Grant’s behavior, but I was not expecting him to make him apologize, let alone literally demand the words ‘I’m sorry.’”
“Neither was I,” I say, equally flabbergasted, still contemplating his unexpected reaction to the difficult guest who clearly had ulterior motives.
“Oh, my God, the way Mr. Grant turned his back on you?” Emma lowers her voice. “What an absolute tosser—pardon my French.”
“A douchebag par excellence,” Pauline agrees.
“It’s all right,” I say. “I think Sean embarrassed him enough to make up for it.”
“I never would have guessed he would have that reaction,” Pauline says.
“No, me neither!” Emma exclaims, her hand on her heart, looking back in the direction Sean left. “I was convinced he was going to fire me.”
“Well, it seems he’s got a knack for keeping us on our toes!” I say and we all lock eyes, smirking at each other.
I don’t quite realize the depth of his defense and what it means to me. All I know is that my mind is reeling. All I wanna do is chase after Sean and do…I don’t even know what. Something. I want to do something with him, to him.
Pauline is the first to glance at her watch and call it a night.
Just as I’m about to storm off, she turns back and tells me that she almost forgot why she’s been looking for me. She reports that her staff is slowly adapting to using the new computer we provided for those who aren’t tech savvy. In fact, some of them even find it “cool” and “hip,” earning a thumbs-up from their grandchildren. A deep satisfaction settles in my soul, and I bring both women into the happiest hug the world has ever seen.
“Are you all set, Emma?” I ask after we finally wish Pauline a happy evening. “I’m gonna head back to finish my work if you’re good here.”
She waves, a smile still on her face and returns to her screen. “Oh, yes, I’ve got it.”
With each step toward Sean’s office, I move faster and faster, until I’m power walking down the hall.
I need to get to Sean—and quickly. The moment I see the door of his office, I know exactly what I’m gonna do when I get there. Sarah is gone by now, but he’s waiting for me, leaning on the edge of the desk, with his arms crossed. When I approach the doorway, his dark eyes meet mine.
“You all right there, Jess?” he rumbles.
Without second-guessing or really thinking about the consequences of what I’m about to do, I cross the threshold and quickly close the door behind me.
Sean meets me in the middle of the room.
We throw our arms around each other, pressing the other into a stormy kiss.
Words cannot express the heat between us. All the stolen looks, all the innuendo and soft touches, culminates in a frenzy of hands and mouths. I now know what that shift has been and why I’m throwing caution into the wind. He respects my staff and me. He holds us in high regard. Despite his meddling and initial dismissals, he has my back when it counts.
We really are in a partnership.
He pushes until I hit the wall with a soft thud. I peel his suit jacket off his shoulders and his hands tug my skirt up over my hips. It’s finally happening. All the fantasies and desires flow out of me, and there’s no reining them in. Instinctually, when his hands reach the back of my thighs, I lift myself up to wrap my legs around his waist. His solid strength reassures me that he’s not going to let me fall. He holds me there, hands still stroking my thighs as his mouth ravages mine.
This is happening.
I don’t only cross the threshold of the room, I’m crossing the line I drew in the sand due to my “never date the CEO” rule.
It’s no longer an option, a limit that for the last month has seemed so important and so necessary. Now it’s ridiculous. This isn’t about physical attraction or desire. It’s about two people giving into their true emotions that have been scratching to be set free.
I can feel him through his pants. The heat and thickness calls to me, makes me want to rip off all of our clothes and ride him until morning. And if we were home, that’s exactly what I would do. But right now, the only thing I keep thinking is more. I want more. I need more.
“Sean,” I whisper hoarsely. I don’t even know if I’m begging, pleading, or asking. His name is all I can convey in that moment.
“I know, baby, I know.”
He called me “baby.”
This time, it’s not to fool my ex. This time, it’s real.
His hand slips into my panties, and my head falls against the wall when I let out a low moan. My hands clutch his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric and wishing I was touching skin instead. The way he touches me makes my body come alive again. There isn’t much he needs to do before I’m ready for more. It’s like my body is begging for him as much as my mind is. One of my hands finds its way into his hair, and I pull him into another soul-crushing kiss.
The sound of his belt buckle echoes through the room and sends a shudder of excitement through me. He draws back to look me in the eye, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. There’s a flicker of something unspoken passing between us, a silent agreement that needs no words. No condom. I’m on birth control, and we don’t want anything between us. The way he’s staring as he lowers his pants takes what remaining breath I have left.
And then he’s slowly pushing the full nine inches into me and capturing my lips with his when my mouth falls open. His cock is rock hard, thick, and soft, and oh so impossibly long. It’s all too much. Yet it’s not enough.
I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation of him stretching me, taking his time.
Shockwaves of pleasure shoot through my veins, and my heart feels like it’s about to burst from my chest. No one has ever made my body feel like this. No one has ever taken my breath away in a single moment. And he’s only halfway in. I have seen him naked but now to feel him entering me bare, it’s more exquisite than I ever imagined. He’s not just invading me—he’s claiming me. I whimper as his cock is filling me, unable to breathe.
When his hip meets mine, his body pressed against mine, it’s like being engulfed in a hurricane of heat and need.
“Look at me,” he whispers a soft command when he’s fully inside of me, his voice barely more than a breath against my ear, stilling, allowing me to adjust to his size. I struggle to follow his order, completely overwhelmed by his presence.
“Behave, or else there will be repercussions,” he rumbles.
Oh shit.
So hot.
Filled to the tippy top, I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. Long lashes frame his eyes, casting delicate shadows against his skin. His deep forest-green eyes collide with mine. His gaze hits me with such force, I feel the sting behind my eyes. Locking eyes with Sean tugs at something deep within me, and feeling his heartbeat against mine, I’m drowning. But, if I have to drown, I don’t want it to be in anyone else’s arms.
He starts to move, rocking maddeningly slowly, ruining me slowly, and any lingering thoughts are promptly shunted from my mind.
It’s like a switch has flipped. I’m his.
“Sean…” I breathe hard when he changes pace, fucking me in long, smooth strokes and I grip onto him. This is meant to be, far, far beyond a silly crush.
“Yeah, baby…so good,” he pants in rhythm, branding me as his own with every possessive thrust. “You feel fucking perfect.”
Shudder after shudder passes through me, making me clench and cling to him.
We’re in our own little world, where nothing else matters except the connection between us. We fall into a rhythm, rocking together. With the hard wall at my back and his solid frame against my front, I feel weightless. It’s like I’m floating on a cloud, like I’m about to float up through the ceiling and into the stars. And Sean? He’s a towering beast of masculinity, making me feel tiny and safe all at once.
“Am I fucking you good, baby?”
“So…perfectly good,” I moan, unable to put a sentence together. My brain has gone offline, not that I mind. Honestly, I could die and be happy.
Sean’s hands are clutching my thighs with each thrust of his hips, his fingers digging into my skin and keeping me grounded. I hope they leave marks, that I’ll have some tangible proof that this rush of passionate energy is actually happening. Because right now, with my desire-addled brain, it feels more like a fantasy than reality. I can’t believe how impossibly perfect it all feels.
His pace is quick and relentless as he, too, is caught up in what’s happening. Our lips are never far apart, oftentimes simply touching without kissing as our heavy breathing mingles. After a time, my body starts to cramp. My legs are screaming to be stretched out, but I ignore them because the pleasure is building, and there’s no way I’m gonna stop just to readjust.
Sean shifts my weight in his hands as he starts to reach his physical limitations too. But like me, he seems unwilling to slow down.
We’ve stopped too many times and have been interrupted more than enough. This time neither one of us is stopping until we reach our peaks, until we come together and find some much-needed release.
Suddenly, my body shifts, and I grip Sean’s shoulders as he pulls me from the wall.
He slips out of me, and for one dreadful second, I think this is it, he’s going to pull out and leave me panting and begging. To my relief, he doesn’t. My ass comes down hard on the top of my desk, and he immediately thrusts back in, using the desk for leverage.
It bumps and scrapes across the floor, sending various items onto the ground. I don’t even know or care what falls. A burst of pleasure flares when he circles my clit.
I come first.
Hard.
Loud.
By “hard and loud” I mean I arch my back and let out a scream of pleasure that could wake the dead (luckily, there’s nobody but Sean around to witness—or complain about—it).
The way Sean’s grinding between my legs and the way he’s filling me becomes too much, and when my orgasm peaks, I clutch him to my chest, my hand still gripping his hair as I chant his name into his ear: “Sean…Sean…Sean…”
His grunting and moaning coaxes me through the waves of pleasure, and in a soft voice, one I’ve never heard from him, he says my name, “Yeah, Jess,” and that’s the last thing I remember as my vision goes blurry.
When I return to myself, he’s gently lowering my legs onto the floor. His touch, it’s different—so tender, so soft, like he’s holding something fragile for the first time.
Slowly, I sit up and try to stand.
The room spins as I lose my balance, and he catches me before I fall. It sends me into a fit of giggles while I attempt to balance on my unsteady legs.
Sean’s lips tip up in amusement. The way it lights up his face makes my stomach drop and my heart skip a beat. I’ve never witnessed him smile like that. Also, I’ve never seen him look at me with such admiration. His thumb trails down my chin, and it’s like a tidal wave crashing over me, sweeping me away and leaving me breathless, exhilarated, and utterly captivated. And now that it’s here, I’m whisked away to paradise by its intensity. It’s not just his piercing eyes that overwhelm me, it’s what they signify: hope, longing, surrender—the beauty of dreaming about what’s to come. It’s like living a dream I never dared to dream.
“You all right there, Jess?” he asks. “I don’t want to have to call an ambulance because you fell over. It’d be really hard to explain.”
His unexpected question catches me off guard, and I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t care. Seriously, the hotel could explode right now, I’d just grab some marshmallows and call it a cozy night in.”
Sean kisses my nose, and he adjusts my panties and skirt back into place. “Why don’t we call it a day?”
Somewhere in my fuzzy brain, I remember the meal he suggested for us. “We didn’t order dinner yet.”
“We’ll grab something on the way home. We’re going to need it as fuel for the rest of the night.”
The side-eye he gives me has my knees quaking again.
“You realize that you’re in for a very long night?” he grumbles.
“My place or yours?”
He hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me against his chest. “I don’t care as long as I can finally get these clothes off you. Let’s go.”
“K.”