Chapter 60 #2
"You’re being... strangely romantic," she whispered, a ghost of a laugh escaping her. "Are you sure you aren't sick?"
"I am," I admitted, finally letting go of her hands to bury mine in my pockets. "Sick with this. I heard you went to Charlie’s clubs while I was gone. Quite a few times."
She immediately crossed her arms, her gaze sharpening into a glare. "I thought those visits were supposed to be private. Secret."
"Megan, I’m a silent partner in those clubs. Nothing stays secret from me."
She shook her head, letting out a dry, cynical laugh. "Why, Kelsey? Why does it matter now?"
"Because I need to understand."
"I’m still pissed about everything," she snapped, her voice rising with a year’s worth of repressed fire.
"Understanding your 'reasons' is one thing, but accepting what you did is another entirely.
" She started counting off on her fingers, her voice trembling with the weight of her reality.
"I already take risks just for being a woman.
For being a lesbian. For being tied to this godforsaken political system.
Do you have any idea how many people wish for my downfall just because I enforce the law?
I live in hiding just to survive, Kelsey.
And you, the one person who was supposed to be my sanctuary, denied me that. "
"Kitty..." I tried to reach for her again, but I could see her closing herself off, brick by brick.
"I didn't want to deny myself anything more than I already had," she continued, hugging her elbows as if to keep herself from shattering. "I refused to deny myself pleasure. I don't even know how many times I went, or how many women were there..."
"Did you find someone?" The question tasted like ash in my mouth. She shook her head slowly. I didn't wait for permission this time; I pulled her into me, holding her rigid body until she finally began to soften. "Come back to me," I whispered against her temple. "Please... just come back."
"And what happens then?" she asked, gently rubbing her head against my cheek in a gesture of weary surrender. "I accept you back, and you just... travel again? Leave me here with the ghosts?"
"You accept. We sleep together. I travel, I return immediately, and we spend the weekend in Cozumel."
"Just the two of us?" Megan asked, her voice softening.
"I’ll need people to feed us, Kitty... but other than that, yes.
" I pulled her closer, my fingers tangling in her hair, forcing her to look into my eyes.
"Come back to me. I’m tired of looking for you in other people.
You weren't the only one walking out of clubs unsatisfied.
I need you, Megan... god, how I need you. "
Her eyes grew glassy, her fingertips tracing the line of my jaw as if to prove I was really there. "I’m confused," she sighed, resting her forehead against my shoulder. "Thinking about everything we should have experienced together. Who’s to say you won't run away again?"
"I’m not going anywhere. My life is a beautiful mess, but I want you in the center of it."
"Will you tell me everything?" she asked, sniffing softly. "The things that confuse you?"
"I'll tell you whatever you want to hear. The corporate drama is a bit dry, but I can try to dress it up like a spy thriller for you."
She pulled me into a delicate kiss at first, then deepening until the world outside the triplex ceased to exist. When I pulled back to catch my breath, she smiled. "But let's take it slow," she warned. "I don't want to fall into that hole again."
"Should I leave and come back with chocolates, then? Some bonbons to court you?" I teased, taking a few steps back.
"Not that slow," she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over the marsala silk of her robe. "You’re being dramatic. Do you really have to go?"
"I should, but I’m staying. I was serious about sleeping here." My phone vibrated, a persistent, annoying intrusion. I hung up and walked back to her. "If you need to work, you can use my office," she offered, pulling me by the knot of her robe.
"Kitty, I’m not working when I can have you all night. I pay enough people to take the hit for me."
We decided on pizza, pepperoni, the universal language of a night in.
But before the food could arrive, I had one loose end to tie.
I headed to her office at the end of the hallway a clean, minimalist space that felt exactly like her.
I opened the video call, and Richard’s puffy, aging face filled the screen.
"Richard, that’s not a project," I snapped, skipping the pleasantries. "You took a government rejection and tinkered with the margins. It’s obsolete. It’s not sustainable."
"But it'll do, Kelsey..."
"Ok isn't the standard. My companies are built on innovation, not 'Ok.
' I want a new draft by tomorrow." I leaned in, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"The only reason I haven't thrown you under should be off of respect for your wife’s friendship with my mother. Don't call me an idiot again."
I sent him on a "vacation" to China to sort out port contracts, a strategic exile disguised as a task. I ended the call to find Megan leaning against the doorway, her robe slightly open, two glasses of wine in hand.
I pulled my chair back, inviting her into my space. "Sit."
She settled onto my lap, her hips resting on my thighs. She didn't wait; her fingers began working the buttons of my shirt, her gaze heavy with intent. "I thought you wouldn't call," she murmured.
"I thought we were taking it slow."
"We’ve been together for an hour and we’re both still dressed," she countered, reaching the last button and sliding her hands over my shoulders. "In my book, that’s agonizingly slow."
"Then I’d hate to be at a disadvantage."
"But you’re not," she whispered.
She rose from my lap and took a few calculated steps back, ensuring I could see every inch of her.
With a slow, deliberate movement, she untied the robe.
It pooled at her feet in a heap of dark silk.
She was wearing nothing underneath. My mouth went bone-dry; the sight of her was a sensory overload that threatened to shatter whatever logic I had left.
"No," I managed to rasp.
"Have you lost your voice, Kelsey?"
"I’ve lost my mind, too."
I stood, kicking off my pants until I was down to my underwear, and moved toward her.
I sank to my knees on the office carpet in pursuit.
I ran my hand up the length of her leg, and as she stepped into my space, my lips followed, tracing the softness of her skin from her calf to the heat of her inner thigh.
"You didn't lose it," she murmured, her voice thick with arousal. "You found it again."
"God, how I missed you."
The touch of my mouth sent a visible shiver through her, and the reaction was contagious. A broken moan escaped her as I reached the top of her thigh.
"I should be kneeling before you," she whispered, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me back so she could look at me.
"Sit in the chair," I commanded. She obeyed without a second’s hesitation. I stood and approached her, bracing one arm against the high back of the leather chair. I used my index finger to trace the contours of her body with a touch so light it was agonizing. "What do you want, Kitty? Ask for it."
I circled her nipple with a slow, teasing fingertip and watched her eyes flutter shut.
"Fuck me. Hit me. Bite me," she gasped, her composure finally splintering. "Choke me."
"I heard you didn't like being choked anymore," I countered, my voice low and dangerous.
I arched an eyebrow and reached for the discarded belt of her robe. When I turned back, I wrapped it around her wrists, securing them with a knot that felt like a permanent vow.
"No one did it like you," she confessed, her breathing ragged. "I got tired of being frustrated by people who didn't understand."
I offered a dark, thin smile. The familiar urge to claim her roared back to life. Without warning, I wrapped my hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to steal the air from her lungs. Her eyes rolled back, a soft sigh of surrender escaping her, before I let go.
"Was that it?"
She nodded frantically. I gripped her hair, tilting her head back to run my tongue down the arch of her neck and across her chest. I licked a path around her breasts, feeling the friction of my own body against the leather of the chair.
When I bit down on her breast, she cried out as loud, raw sound that echoed off the bookshelves.
I worried her nipple with my teeth until she arched her body toward me, desperate for more.
My hand slid down the plane of her stomach, finding her completely soaked.
I rested my chin on her sternum, looking up at her with a look of pure, predatory intent.
"Shit," she hissed, her head dropping back as she cursed me under her breath.
"Can you hold off on coming until I give you the order?
" She nodded, a desperate sound caught in her throat.
I slid my index finger over her clitoris, applying a brutal, rhythmic pressure while squeezing her breast. "If you break, Kitty... if you come before I say so, I’m leaving.
And I won't see you again for two days."
"No... please..." she whimpered. Her eyes rolled back and her mouth fell open in a silent scream of pleasure, her body trembling on the verge of a cliff I hadn't given her permission to jump from yet.
"God, I really need to fuck you," I growled, watching her part her legs wider. That naughty, defiant smile was my absolute undoing. "You’re my bitch, Megan."
"Yours," she replied, her voice dropping all pretense of judicial dignity.
The word was a trigger. I pulled her into a kiss that tasted of urgency and shared history, our tongues meeting with a desperate, familiar rhythm. I sank two fingers into her, a deep, possessive intrusion that forced a ragged moan from her throat mid-kiss.