Chapter 15 #2
‘I understand how much you want this well. I do. But Teddy thinks I should pull out, and I’m starting to agree with him.
Layton Oil can’t beat Persian Fuels alone, and I know you can’t either.
But if you make a deal with Bahrain, I swear to God, it – you – will be the death of me.
So I’m telling you I’ll put everything on the line, I’ll go against Teddy’s advice, and I’ll bid with you, if you promise me you’ll stay away from that deal.
There’s every chance we’d lose money. A good chance.
But I’ll do it. I’m not lying to you, Dayna.
I just want you to get what you need without killing yourself. ’
I press the base of my hand to my chest as pain strikes beneath my ribs. ‘If we did it and we won, Caspar wouldn’t necessarily stop coming at us, Clark.’
‘I know. But it would be different if we were together.’
‘How?’
He takes my hand in his. ‘Because I’ll be behind you. Every step of the way. I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you.’
My head is spinning, trying to compute what he’s suggesting, trying to make sense of everything I’m thinking and feeling.
‘Clark, a deal wouldn’t mean that we were together. I mean, we’re not, but we really couldn’t be, ever, if we joined forces. It wouldn’t be right. If it, we, went wrong?—’
‘I know.’
I used to love the energy sector, or at least I used to thrive on deals and trading.
When Little Princess exploded, the spark went away.
When my father killed himself, the excitement of high-stakes business almost disappeared entirely.
I can’t be with Clark. Not right now. But the thought of the industry taking him away from me permanently, or worse, meaning he gets hurt… I’d come to hate it.
‘But don’t think it would stop me trying,’ he says, breaking my thoughts with a gentle smile that doesn’t shine in his eyes, yet still ignites my blood.
I take hold of his hand in both my own. ‘You’re relentless.’
‘You’re stunning.’
‘Clark—’
He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine. I want to push him away, but my body submits. I drown beneath him. It’s like he’s my only lifeline, the air I need to breathe. I cling to his shirt, forgetting our surroundings, until he breaks our connection.
He rests his forehead on mine and strokes a hand up my thigh. ‘This dress.’ His words are heavy, laced with desire. ‘I want to take it off.’
‘Stop it,’ I tell him with no conviction, holding my eyes shut.
‘If you mean that, I’ll stop, but if you don’t then please let me help you forget it all. Business. The past. Just let me love you tonight.’
A waiter coughs, breaking us apart. He’s visibly uncomfortable as he clears our plates. But I’m too concerned with the man opposite me, suddenly hungry for only one thing.
‘One last night, that’s all. A final time,’ I whisper.
He takes my hand to his lips, and his eyes sparkle.
We talk and laugh through our main course and another round of cocktails. It’s easy, natural and something that I’d forgotten we had – fun. We turn back towards the fountains as the sound of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ fills the air.
‘Enrique was nice, but this is pretty cool,’ I tell him.
‘Good restaurant choice, then?’
‘Good choice.’
The soft glow of the fountains catches his face, illuminating his strong features.
‘If only things weren’t so complicated,’ I murmur.
‘They don’t have to be.’
‘You have no idea how much I want to believe that. You’re the only person who can make me lose sight of everything else.’
He strokes a thumb across my knuckles on the table top. ‘I’d really like to get the bill.’
I feel my pupils dilate, my eyelids get heavier. I cross my legs tighter and lick my lips as I nod, ready to taste him there.
Clark settles the bill and we make our way out to a cab. He takes my hand, which makes me falter in my stride, but I relax into his grip and move closer to him. It’s only one night. One more night. A last goodbye.
We sit in the back of the cab, and I can’t speak for him, but my hormones are out in force, battering my sex into submission.
I’m aching to feel him, as if it’s been much longer than three days since he took me all night.
Something about breaking the law, wanting each other but being forced to hide it, has my temperature rising.
He subtly adjusts his jeans and I smirk when he catches me looking.
‘Fucking Middle East,’ he mumbles.
I glance at the driver’s rear-view mirror. He’s oblivious to the tension in the back of his cab, or if he isn’t, he doesn’t let it show.
When we get to the hotel, Clark holds open the door for me, his hand grazing the small of my back as he helps me out of the cab.
He takes my hand again and leads me to his hotel room in silence. There’s nothing more to say. Right now, I’m not even sure I could form a sentence. Desire has killed my mind and senses. Although I’ve retained enough comprehension to know that’s probably a good thing.
His room, like the rest of the hotel, smells of vanilla.
The bed has been turned down and bedside lamps set the room in an amber hue.
That’s all I have time to register because Clark lifts me against the wall, his pelvis pushing his erection into my stomach, his mouth consuming mine.
I let my clutch fall to the floor, and he takes my hands above my head, fusing our bodies together.
‘Christ, I’ve wanted to do that all day,’ he says against my neck.
Holding my wrists with one hand, he runs the other up my leg, lifting my thigh to his hip. There are so many things wrong with this, so many reasons we shouldn’t be doing this.
‘Stop.’ He nibbles my lobe. ‘Over.’ His breath leaves a trail down my neck. ‘Thinking.’ He glides his tongue along my collarbone.
I give in to desperation, the way he intoxicates me, my suffocating need to have him. Tugging a hand free, I fist his hair.
He teases, sucks and licks my shoulder as he draws the thin strap of my dress down my arm.
I can’t tell him how much I want him. I won’t tell him how many nights I’ve spent wondering why we ended.
Praying that he’d change his mind. But in the way he looks at me now, he tells me all I need to know.
He’s in this. Right now, that’s as much as I can handle.
I give myself over to him. To this. To us.
‘Kiss me,’ I beg.
He rests his brow on mine, hooded eyes hypnotic. Then he gives me what I want, simultaneously lifting my other thigh and carrying me through the lounge of his suite into the bedroom.
He lowers me in front of the queen bed and turns me away from him. His lips start at my nape, blowing air gently down my spine, a sensation that shoots to the depths of me, making my muscles tense, drenching my sex. He unzips my dress and pushes it down my arms, letting it pool around my stilettos.
‘I’ll never get enough of tasting you. Feeling you.’
He has to get enough. He has to walk away. Because I don’t have the strength to tell him no.
‘Clark…’ I should tell him this is it. We can’t go beyond tonight. But the words don’t come.
‘Do you remember how good we are together?’
‘Yes.’ The word is weak, breathless. ‘Please don’t try to convince me…’ Convince me of what? That we should be together?
I leave the words hanging in the air as he runs his hands greedily over my skin then wraps a hand around my hair. He pulls my head to one side and sucks my neck as his fingers roam my stomach. His touch is like champagne, sheer indulgence. It goes straight to my head and blurs my thoughts.
His next words are so quiet they’re almost lost in the sound of our panting. ‘This isn’t goodbye.’
It has to be.
I have to keep my head strong.
I turn to face him and push his jacket over his arms. He lets me undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one.
While I flashback to last night and being utterly consumed by him, he’s watching me in a way that leaves no doubt in my mind that he’s craving this as much as I am.
He’s hungry for me. But the tender stroke of his fingertips down my cheek tells me there’s more to this than lust for him too.
When he’s down to only his jeans, I drink him in – those abs, those pecs, the slight cut of his hips above his belt. He runs his hands through my hair and holds my face, not letting me look away.
‘There’s only you, Dayna. There’s only ever been you.’
His words from earlier come back to me. Say you love me. He captures my heavy breath with his mouth. As if he doesn’t want to hear anything else I have to say. I cover his hands with my own.
‘Take me out of my head, Clark.’
It’s his turn to nod as he unhooks my bra and casts it aside. He cups my breasts then takes a nipple in his teeth. He groans as he sucks the sensitive tip. It’s a sound I feel deep between my legs. I let my head roll back, relishing every second.
Then his hands are in my thong, pulling it down my legs. He lifts me and lays me back on the bed, lifting my heels to the edge and pulling my hips forwards. He kneels between my legs, the pressure of his hands on the inside of my thighs making me squirm with desire.
‘Every single part of you is fucking perfect.’
I gasp as his tongue swirls my clit. In this moment, I’m both incredibly lost and undeniably found by the familiarity of his touch.
My back arches and I think my head might explode. He slips his tongue down to my entrance, dipping in and out, fucking me with his warm, wet mouth. I rise quickly, embarrassingly quickly.
‘I love seeing you like this,’ he croaks.
‘Clark.’ His name is as much as my brain can process.
He rams his fingers into me and homes in on my clit. I feel my insides swell, greedily clenching around his fingers. I want more. Something deeper, thicker.
‘I want to feel you like this, around my cock. I want to watch your face as you come around me.’
His words push me to the edge. ‘God, oh good fucking God.’
‘Finish for me, baby. Show me what I can do to you. Show me how much you want me.’
I do want him. I shouldn’t. I do. God, do I.