Moonlighter

ALEX

I am definitely living someone else’s life tonight, and that lucky woman has it good. We walked into the suite no more than five minutes ago, and already Eric’s tongue is… Ohhh.

My fingers find their way into his hair as he begins to worship me with his mouth and his lips. He is easily the most sexually attuned man that I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter.

He’s ruining me for other men, and I don’t even care.

“Mmm,” he says as he slowly tastes me, and I have to close my eyes and take it all in. I don’t want to miss a single sensation. I like it all—not just the naughty tongue, but the scrape of his whiskers against my thighs and the roughness of his fingertips on my knees.

He’s devouring me, and it’s almost too good. I love this, but I also crave him inside me. “Eric, stop. Come here.”

Ignoring me, he gives another long lick and a gentle suck.

“Ah!” I gasp, trying to hold back my pleasure. “Please. Now.”

“Please, what?”

“Eric!”

He grins up at me from the floor. “The lady boss wants something?”

“You know I do.”

He chuckles, but finally stands up. One hand grasps his cock, and he gives himself an easy stroke. I can’t tear my gaze away. “You can look if I can look,” he says, calling me on it. “Spread your legs for me.”

The command makes me self-conscious, though, and I close them instead.

“Alex,” he chuckles. “Fair’s fair. Besides—that woman whose life you’re borrowing? I think she likes it dirty.”

I glance up into his smiling eyes and wonder how he knew exactly the right thing to say to me. Slowly, I spread my knees as wide as I can.

Eric makes an appreciative noise. And then he steps into the space I’ve created, bringing us close together. I can feel the heat radiating off his skin as he kisses my cheekbone while slowly penetrating me.

We both groan happily.

He wraps his arms around me and rocks sweetly inside me. “Perfect,” he whispers against my face. “Perfectly addictive.” Then he lifts my chin and kisses me.

I brace my hands behind me on the counter so he can move. Then I just lean back and let myself feel everything he’s giving me. All I know are the twin sensations of heated skin and deep kisses.

Until he stops, breaking both our kiss and our connection. I look up, bewildered, as he scoops me off the counter.

“Turn around,” he says, and then does it for me, rotating my body with his hands on my bare hips. “I want you to watch. I’ve been the only one enjoying this perfect view.”

Eric grabs a towel off the rack and tosses it onto the counter. “Rest your arms on here.”

I let him bend me over like a Barbie doll. In the mirror, I see why. He steps up behind me, arm flexing, erection in hand. He nudges my legs apart with one of his muscular knees. Then, with a brow furrowed by desire, he pushes inside.

Oh, wow. I take a deep breath and blow it out as my body welcomes him in again.

“Open your eyes,” he grunts.

I hadn’t realized I’d closed them. But in a moment, I’m grateful for the reminder. Because the sight of Eric gripping my hips and slowly pumping his body into mine is not to be missed.

I am mesmerized by the undulating flex of his chest and the warm light bathing our skin.

So this is what it feels like to truly let go and live in the moment. I can’t look away.

“That’s right,” he groans. “Don’t miss it.”

I will, though. I’ll miss this the second we’re through.

But first, sleep. I spend another glorious night curled up around Eric in our luxurious bed, until Bingley wakes me with: “Rise and shine my queen! It is time to go forth and conquer the kingdom of technology!”

“Oh, stuff it,” Eric murmurs into his pillow.

“Someone sounds grumpy!” Bingley says cheerfully. “Shall I order coffee?”

Eric’s head pops off the pillow. “You can do that?”

“It would be an honor and a privilege! Would you like me to list the room service entrees?”

“Not necessary,” he grunts. “Two pots of coffee. One regular, one decaf. A western omelet and a fruit and granola plate.”

“I want an omelet, too,” I pipe up.

“The omelet is for you,” Eric says. “I’m having the granola.”

“Oh. Well. Carry on.”

Bingley reads the order back to us and then puts it through to the hotel.

Before getting out of bed, I nudge Eric’s naked hip. “I thought you said you didn’t ever want to converse with your phone?”

“Don’t gloat,” he says. “I didn’t realize he could feed me.”

I head for the shower, smiling.

After my omelet, though, I find myself sitting down for a video chat with Eric’s brother. I’m dressed in a prim little suit and ready for the day. But when he appears on screen, I feel a flash of embarrassment, anyway.

This man recruited his brother to protect me in Hawaii. He did it as a favor to help me through my time of need. And then I jumped on his brother like a cat in heat. Several times. I wonder if blushing shows up on a video chat.

“Good morning,” Max says. “I need to talk to you for a quick second about Xian Smith.”

“Right,” I say with a sigh. “Really, Max? Take the meeting? Which of my long-time suppliers shall I cut from my docket in order to accommodate your curiosity?”

“I don’t care. Pick one.” His grin is as infuriating as his brother’s. It must be a family trait. “You’re doing this as a favor to me, but also for yourself.”

“He’s a components broker, right? I don’t need a middleman when I can deal directly with Chinese manufacturers.”

“I understand,” Max says with a nod. “But I’m working on a theory about Smith, and the more I learn about him, the better I can protect your company. What do you know about him?”

“Not much.” I try to remember what people have said. “And only gossip.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“He showed up at a Vegas conference two years ago, brokering cellular modems from small factories in Zhengzhou. People said his prices were unbeatable.”

“Go on.” Max scribbles something down on a legal pad.

“After that I heard he was trying to make connections in Taiwan and Vietnam. He was working the multi-source angle, helping manufacturers avoid Chinese imports during the tariff wars.”

“Okay.” Max adds to his notes. “So when you meet with him, please try to remember everything he asks you. What’s his angle? How is he offering to help you? Is he trying to compete on price, or on something else?”

“Fine.” I grumble. “He seemed to know that I’m scrambling to source my new device. ‘Your new toy,’ he called it.”

“That’s an open secret, though? You’ve been talking to suppliers for weeks already. And he’s well connected.”

“Obviously. It’s going to be a short meeting, though. This launch is too important for me to try a new supplier.”

“I know. But do me a favor? Play dumb. Pump him for information about what he can offer.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll do your dirty work. Is there anything else I can do for you Max? Spy on anyone else? Bring you a sandwich?”

He laughs. “Thanks, but I have people for that. And I’m very particular about my sandwiches.”

“Of course you are.”

“Oh—there is one small thing you can do for me. Tell my brother to stop mooning the pillow cam whenever he’s alone in the suite.”

“He didn’t.” I clap a hand over my mouth.

“Oh, he does. Frequently.” Max shakes his head. “Tell him middle school is over. Find a new joke.”

“It’s my ass!” Eric yells from the other room. “I can shake it wherever I want.”

Max shakes his head. “Later, Alex. Good luck today.”

“Thanks, Max.” I give him a wave and disconnect our call.

It’s another long day of meetings, including a business lunch.

Eight hours pass before I’m escorted back to the suite by Pieter and my assistant, Rolf, who’s yapping at my heels like a frustrated chihuahua.

“We never called Pam in London. And I still need you to open DocuSign and authorize the quarterlies.”

“Later,” I say as the lock clicks to green and I push into the suite. “I need a snack, and then I have to get ready.” And I’m just so tired, suddenly. What I really need is a nap. But that’s not going to happen.

“Well, fine,” Rolf says from the hallway. “You don’t call, you don’t text. You don’t send flowers!”

“I love you Rolf. Now go away.”

“That’s what they all say.” He sighs heavily as I shut the door.

When I turn around, it’s as if I’ve stumbled into a fraternity house. The TV is on, tuned to sports news. There are dirty plates on the coffee table beside an empty protein drink container. And there’s rock music blaring from a speaker somewhere.

I locate Eric on the rug, wearing nothing but a bathing suit. He’s doing push-ups.

“Hi, honey I’m home,” I say to his very well-formed backside.

“Thirty-four. Thirty-five. Thirty-six…”

“The dinner starts in an hour.”

“Thirty-seven…” There’s a grunt and a pause. “Thirty-eight…”

“What? Only thirty-eight? I could beat that with one hand tied behind my back.”

Eric laughs. I see his back shaking. Then he collapses onto the rug. “You wrecked my set!”

“Oh, sure, blame the pregnant lady.” I step over his body and proceed to the kitchenette. “Is there any yogurt left?”

He rolls over. “I thought you said dinner was soon.”

“It is. But when you’re the speaker, you can’t eat. Too risky.”

“Risky? Like you might choke and die before your speech?”

“No, like you might get sauce on your dress.”

“Heavens!” He eyes me from the floor. “This audience is mostly men, right?”

“Sure.”

“A spill on your dress won’t be the thing they notice first. For better or for worse, those eyes will be on whichever parts of you the dress doesn’t cover.”

Yikes. I pull a cup of yogurt out of the fridge. “Thanks for making me self-conscious.”

“I’m sorry.” He sits up. “I shouldn’t be flip about your big talk.”

Twenty-one years later and it’s still true—Eric is the nicest grouch I’ve ever met. “The problem is you’re right. But I still want to look good and speak well.”

“Is this speech hard?”

I shake my head. “Not really. I’m revealing a project I’ve been developing for two years. So it’s not like I’ll forget what to say. But I still have to get up there and say it, knowing that half the audience thinks I’m only in charge because daddy gave me the job.”

Oops. That old fear just slid right out.

“Fuck them,” Eric says with a flip of his hand. “You don’t need their validation.”

My spoon hovers above the surface of my yogurt. You don’t need their validation. Such a simple idea. But it’s one that doesn’t occur to me nearly often enough. “You are very useful. Even outside the bedroom.”

His laugh is sharp and sudden. “I’m honored that you noticed. Can I have the first shower?”

“Sure, but leave the bathroom door open.”

“What, you need a show?” He jumps to his feet and flexes his biceps.

“Nice,” I say. “But I need you to avoid steaming up the mirror.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “God, you are hard on my ego.”

“I am not hard on your ego, Mr. Hot Bod. Well, unless we’re counting the night I didn’t recognize you and shot you down when you weren’t even hitting on me.”

“Oh, we’re counting it.” He walks slowly toward the pillow cam, drops his shorts, and shakes his butt in front of it.

I almost choke on the yogurt.

“But—full disclosure?” He pulls up his shorts again and walks toward me in the kitchen area. “If you had recognized me, and we did pull off a conversation in some quiet corner, I would have totally hit on you. It was only a matter of time.”

Again, my spoon stops midair, and my mouth hangs open.

But Eric is already halfway to the master bathroom, humming to himself.

And he leaves the door open like I asked.