Chapter 10 The Way He Looked at Me
He was confident. Casual. Borderline rude. The kind of man who smiled as if he already knew he would get away with it.
Big, broad, thick-necked, built like an athlete. Short dark hair, light stubble.
“I didn’t say yes,” I pointed out.
He smiled wider. “But you didn’t say no either.”
“I didn’t have time.”
“Still counts as acceptance.”
I studied him for a moment. He looked amused.
“You here for the conference?” I asked.
“No,” he said easily. “I’m here for a different kind of pain.”
That earned him a look.
He chuckled. “I’ve got a fight tomorrow.”
“Boxing?”
“MMA.”
I blinked once. “You’re not worried about getting injured before that?”
He shrugged. “I avoid falling into tables with strangers.”
“Wise strategy.”
“I’m Leo,” he said.
“Ashley.”
“No last name?” he asked.
“Not for men who steal chairs.”
He grinned. “I respect that boundary.”
I smiled faintly.
“You don’t look like you watch MMA,” he added.
“I don’t,” I admitted. “I watch numbers. Less bloody.”
“Shame,” he said. “I’m very impressive when I bleed.”
A soft laugh escaped me despite myself.
Our food arrived a moment later.
We talked while we ate. About Vegas. About fighting. About work. About the strange ways people ended up in careers they had never planned.
He was surprisingly intelligent, quick with humor and sharp with his observations.
And he was clearly interested.
He leaned back slightly, his eyes moving over me without apology.
“I like you,” he said.
“I know.”
He laughed.
“Can I have your number?”
“No.”
He blinked. “You didn’t even hesitate.”
I shrugged.
“Harsh.”
“Accurate.”
He smiled anyway. “I’ll see you again.”
“Maybe,” I replied. “And good luck with your fight.”
He stood, gave me a respectful nod, then walked away without pushing further.
I watched him go for a moment before picking up my phone to check the time. Ten minutes remained before the next panel started.
When I glanced toward the lobby, I spotted Knox standing near the glass rail, phone in hand. His gaze was not on the screen. It was on me. From where he stood he had a clear line of sight to my table. I had no idea how long he had been there.
I stood, gathered my things, and headed back toward the conference halls.
The next four hours passed in a blur of presentations, projected models, development forecasts, and regional market projections. Speakers rotated, slides changed, and the same ideas repeated themselves in different fonts.
I took notes, filtered the nonsense, highlighted what mattered, and asked questions when it was appropriate.
By the time the final session ended my brain felt tired.
We regrouped for dinner at a private restaurant inside the hotel.
During dinner Ethan and Julian debated margins while Marcus complained about Vegas traffic. Knox mostly listened.
When dinner ended, we separated with casual promises to text in the morning once everyone was moving again.
One elevator ride later I stepped into my room, closed the door behind me, and leaned back against it for a moment. After a full day of panels and meetings, I wanted nothing more than to get out of the clothes I had been trapped in since sunrise.
I reached up and pulled the pin from my bun, letting my hair fall down my back. I ran my fingers through it, loosening the strands and massaging my scalp before pulling soft gray sweatpants and a white tank from my travel bag. I stripped out of my work clothes and collapsed onto the bed.
The mattress was sinful.
I let out a low sound of relief and stretched across it, the sheets cool and impossibly soft against my skin. If I were not so mentally wired, it might have dragged me straight into sleep.
It was only nine, but I had been awake since three in the morning. My body was exhausted. My mind was anything but.
I lay there staring at the ceiling for a moment, then slipped my hand beneath the waistband of my sweats, letting it drift between my thighs. Sometimes the small release of tension was enough to quiet the restless energy in my head and bring the soft, hazy calm that finally allowed me to sleep.
I touched my hardening clit slowly, breathing deep as sensation spread. My other hand slid beneath the tank top, pinching my nipple hard enough to let out a quiet groan.
My thoughts went exactly where they always did lately.
Knox.
I pictured him pushing me down onto the bed, his body covering mine, his weight pinning me into the mattress. Holding me there. Taking control without asking.
My breathing quickened as my hand moved faster, harder.
I imagined Knox pushing into me. His grip in my hair, his control, the way he would take what he wanted without asking.
I pressed harder, chasing it, my body arching slightly as I let myself fall into the image of him using me, claiming me, making me surrender. Using my body for his pleasure.
The fantasy tightened everything inside me until pleasure finally broke loose and rushed through me in a hot, overwhelming wave. I came hard against my hand, breath breaking, body trembling. I lay there for a moment afterward, flushed, chest rising and falling, eyes closed, completely spent.
Then there was a knock.
I frowned, still hazy, pulled my hand out of my sweats and pushed myself upright. Grabbing a zip-up hoodie, I slipped it on and left it open as the knock came again, sharper this time.
“Hello?” I called.
“It’s me,” rumbled a deep, distinctive voice that seemed to vibrate with testosterone.
Knox.
I almost jerked back in surprise.
Curious about what could possibly be so urgent, I opened the door.
He stood there with his tie gone, shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled back over strong forearms dusted with dark hair. My favorite kind of arms. My brain supplied that thought unhelpfully.
His eyes moved over me, slow and assessing. I suddenly became acutely aware of my sweats, my flushed face, my messy hair, the loose tendrils around my face. He had never seen me like this.
Heat crept up my neck. I hid one hand behind my back, irrationally wondering if he could smell me.
His gaze sharpened, shifting past me as he took in the room beyond my shoulder. Then he stepped inside, brushing lightly past me with a quiet comment about needing the bathroom.
I closed the door behind him, still standing where I was, a little confused.
A moment passed.
Then another.
I never heard the toilet.
When he came back out a couple of minutes later, he paused in the center of the room, his gaze moving slowly across the space. Then he crouched, reaching down to adjust his shoe. For a moment I could have sworn his eyes flicked toward the shadow beneath the bed.
Then he straightened and turned toward the door.
I was still too foggy to process any of it. My eyes followed him automatically.
Then I realized his attention wasn’t on my face.
It was on my chest.
I looked down and saw that the hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, the thin white tank top stretched enough to reveal the outline of my pierced nipple beneath it.
I pulled the hoodie back into place.
When I looked up again, his pupils were dark.
“What did you want to talk about?” I asked.
“I heard a noise,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second.
“Goodnight, Ashley.”
Then he turned and left.
I closed the door behind him and bit my lip, a slow, shameless smile spreading across my face.
Unexpected.
But this had gone better than I ever could have imagined.