21. Mia
Chapter twenty-one
Mia
Will and I are silent as we head back to our room. Ingrid assured me that the dress I’m planning to wear will work perfectly tonight. She told me people go all out, and there is no such thing as overdressed at a Starlight Resorts event.
Damien and Will shared a laugh about being embarrassed to wear the same outfit, both black suits.
Will closes the door behind me. I slump onto the end of the bed.
“Goddamn.” I pull the clip out of my hair, sending my curls cascading down my shoulders. “I hoped Bryce was doing an okay job, at least.” I throw myself on my back onto the bed. “I’m going to have to do something about it, aren’t I?”
Will sits next to me. “You don’t have to do anything. This doesn’t have to be your problem.” He pauses, raising his eyebrows. “But I do think it’d be the right thing to do.”
“Of course it’s my problem,” I say, flopping my arms out by my sides. I don’t want to say this out loud yet, but this whole time I’ve been looking for some connection to my birth family, and what if this is it?
Everything clicks into place. I’ve been searching for the thing that makes me feel like I’m part of my birth family. Visiting the resorts, visiting Craig, none of it had worked. But this—this is my family’s legacy. It matters. And all it takes for me to realize it is some asshole trying to fuck it all up.
I let out a groan as the realization that I can’t leave it alone tumbles around my brain. “I don’t know the first thing about running resorts. And I have a job. I barely have any real-life skills other than lawyering. That’s not going to be useful, is it?”
“Here, sit up,” Will says, pulling himself up so his back is against the headboard. He gestures for me to sit between his legs. I barely hesitate before rolling inelegantly onto my side, then nestle between Will’s muscular legs. He squeezes my shoulders, massaging away some of the tension.
A couple of minutes later, he starts speaking. “So I have this client. She started this business at home making candles. Then she got much bigger, and she hired someone else to make candles, and she handled the admin stuff. She came to me because while her profits have increased, she’s not as happy.” He smooths his palms down my arms, squeezing my biceps as he goes. My tension is evaporating with each touch.
“Well, not exactly the same problem, but a similar conceptual one. She and I worked out the best thing for her to do was to hire a person to do all the admin stuff, a chief operating officer. She got to stick with the creative work that got her into the industry, it was the best use of her skills.”
He's on a roll now. I’ve never seen him like this. It’s hot, seeing him in his element.
“Same concept here. Maybe you can solve your Bryce problem by hiring a new Bryce.” I open my mouth to object, but he keeps talking before I can start. “I’m not saying it’s zero work for you, you’ll probably want to do some of work to give them a high-level strategic direction to stick with Craig’s vision, but there is a solution here that doesn’t mean you have to do it yourself, Mia.”
“Okay, I see that.” A million things rush through my head. I need some time to think about this.
“You know, I just realized I’ve never seen you properly in ‘work mode’. Like, I’ve heard you talk about it, and overheard you on the phone, but it’s never been like this. It’s weird.”
I lean back against him, the heat of his chest radiating through me. I feel him laugh in my bones. “Good weird or bad weird?”
“Good weird. Isn’t it strange that we never get to see each other doing our jobs? You’ve seen me vomit out of a moving car, but haven’t seen me at work. Don’t you think there should be a ‘bring your friend to work’ day? Then we’d get to meet all of our friend’s work colleagues so we’d know who they were talking about.”
He wraps his arms around my waist, and I can’t resist melting into him. How does this feel so right? We sit in silence for a few moments, me nestled into his chest, him absently rubbing his thumb against my arm.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe hiring someone is the best choice. I’ll have to think about it.” I stretch my neck left, then right. He takes the opportunity to dig his thumb into the muscle where my neck and shoulder meet. A small moan leaks out of me. “How are you so good at that?” I let out another involuntary moan.
“I’m good at lots of things with my hands.” My pussy clenches. Jesus Christ. This man is going to kill me without even getting my pants off. “Remember Maggie? We went to an eight-week massage class. I think she liked being massaged more than massaging, I picked some stuff up.”
Maggie was Will’s tall, blonde, beautiful ex-girlfriend. They had been together for about a year, but had split almost two years ago. I hate that their break-up devastated Will, but truthfully, Will is more himself without her. He stopped doing all of the things he loved when they were together, and I like seeing him doing what he loves again. And it doesn’t hurt that I get to see him much more frequently now they’ve broken up.
“Well worth the time,” I say, lolling my head back against Will’s chest. I love how we can talk about our past relationships without it being weird. “As much as I’d love this to go on forever, I’m going to need to start getting ready if we want to get to this party.”
I have finally placed my lashes, a frustrating and inexpert process that involved watching two tutorials when Will emerges from the bathroom. A white towel is wrapped low around his hips and water glistens on his chest. He looks over at me sheepishly, gesturing to his suitcase.
“Forgot underwear,” he says, rummaging. He throws two books on the bed. How many books did this man bring? There are already two beside the bed.
“It’s steamy in there, maybe hold off if you’re worried about steam messing up your hair or whatever?” he warns. He’s so thoughtful. And so, so attractive. I don't know how I've ever not been obsessed with him.
“Thanks. You can change in here if you want. I’m facing away anyway.” He nods, heading to the bathroom to retrieve his suit bag hanging on the back of the door. The hotel pressed it for him this morning, probably along with half of the guests’ outfits. He lays it out on the bed, neither of us mentioning that I have a perfect view of his reflection in the mirror, but both knowing I’m shamelessly watching him.
He unwinds the towel, blotting dampness from his chest. I rub oil into my hands, smoothing it over my hair. Unfortunately, Will has turned away from me, so all I manage to sneak a peek of is his muscled back, hard thighs and muscular ass. He slips on boxer briefs, then his pants, and finally turns around again, still shirtless, his pants undone. God, that bulge.
“I can feel you looking at me, Mia.” His voice is deliciously husky. I wet my lips, trying to decide when’s the right time to avert my eyes without looking like I’m darting my attention away. I’ve been looking for too long. We lock eyes, and he slowly scratches his nails across his chest. Maybe he’s just itchy, but the tensed bicep, the muscled chest and the toned stomach…it’s hard to know whether this is a genuine scratch or a micro performance. A performance for me. Whatever it is, nothing stops my stomach from clenching at the sight.
“Mia.” Will’s voice is so deep it’s practically a purr. “If you don’t hurry up and get dressed, we’re going to be more than fashionably late.” He shrugs on his shirt, and slowly buttons it in a disappointing reverse strip tease. “I can’t believe I’m asking a woman to put her clothes on, not take them off,” he mutters almost too quiet for me to hear.
I smooth the last of my frizz. I’m wearing only the bathrobe from the hotel and have already put on my strapless bra and g-string.
I gather my champagne dress which is heavy with beautiful gold seed beads, and line it up, ready to step into. I untie the robe and remove it, still facing the mirror. It isn’t until I bend over to pull the dress up over my thighs and hips that I hear Will’s breathing change and raise my gaze to the mirror. He’s watching every move like a starving man seeing a cooked meal for the first time in months. I shimmy the dress up, threading my arms through the shoulders.
“Mind giving me a hand with the zip?” I turn to face him.
He covers the room in a few giant steps. “Of course.” He puts one hand on my hip, pivoting me to face away from him. His hands glance my hip and across my ass as I turn.
The tiny zip pops as each tooth latches, his other hand on my hip the whole time, keeping me and the dress steady. My skin tingles where his fingers touch my bare skin. I use all my self-restraint to avoid melting back into him.
When he has closed the hook and eye at the top of the zip, Will slides his hands down my back, skimming my waist, landing on my hips. After pausing for a second too long, he says, “Okay. You’re all set.” It’s that husky voice again. He takes two small steps backward. I turn, not hiding that I’m watching him do up the last buttons on his shirt.
“Thank you.” My heart pounds. This behavior; the overt flirting and lingering touches? This is new. Sure, we’ve flirted before, but nothing like this.
I glance at the clock next to the bed. I don’t have long enough to start a proper conversation about what’s happening, no matter how much I want to talk about it. It will have to wait. I spritz myself with perfume and slip my heels on.
“You look good.” I look up at Will’s side-profile. “I like this suit on you.”
“You do too. Amazing.” His look is ravenous.
“Thank you.” I inspect myself in the mirror. I do look amazing. Will always looks good, but the crisp white shirt, the bow tie he is tying—he can tie a bow tie? It is going to take a lot of strength to keep my hands to myself tonight, especially after him not keeping his hands to himself. I wonder whether we are both hoping the other will have less self-restraint.
He turns to me and holds out his arm. “Should we head down?”