She tipped her head toward the windshield, where our onlooker was long gone. "Was that…all right?"
I shrugged. "If it's all right for you, it's all right for me."
"I've never done—I've never done any of that before."
"Doesn't make it any less all right, Neera." I kissed her cheek, her neck. "So, are you up for some food?"
She nodded. "I'd like that."
I gave her an exaggerated headshake. "I don't know what to do with you when you're being agreeable. Could you lapse into polite dictator mode for a second?"
Neera cleared her throat, squared her shoulders. "Mr. Guillmand, I'll grant you a short break, but after that time I must insist you revisit the day's priorities."
"Remind me what those priorities are, Miz Malik."
"There are a number of issues requiring your attention but chief among them is seeing what we can get away with in the parking garage at my building. Perhaps the elevator as well."
I responded with a solemn nod. "And remind me which floor you live on."
The corners of her lips crept up into a tender smile. "The fourth, but it's often empty." She jerked a shoulder up. "Everyone takes the stairs. They're busy closing their activity rings for the day."
"As am I." I lifted my hand to her cheek. Her skin was gloriously warm and soft like I'd never felt before. "I won't rest until I've handled those priorities, Miz Malik."
* * *
Hours later,after refueling at a falafel truck, nearly dying when she sucked my dick in the parking garage but made me wait until fucking her in the elevator to get off, then repaying that favor by putting her Hitachi Wand to good, edge-tormenting use, and then fucking her against a city-view window, I propped myself up on an elbow and peered at her bedroom. "This isn't what I expected."
With her hair tousled and her lips swollen, she glanced up at me. "What did you expect?"
"Your shoes are persimmon, your lingerie is aubergine, there's a barbell through your nipple, and yet your walls are…white." I shook my head at the unadorned space she called home. "Tell me the truth. This is where you bring your slam pieces, isn't it?"
"Slam pieces?" she repeated, laughing. "What are you asking me, Gus?"
"A proper lady like yourself doesn't want random hookups at her house, so she keeps a place on the side." I shrugged as I ran my fingers over her belly, over her mound, between her legs. I cupped her there, my middle finger tapping her seam like it belonged to me. Not for the first time in the past ten hours, I considered the possibility it did. That I was tasked with keeping a part of her, if not the whole. "I'm asking whether this soulless box is your place on the side because I can't fathom you living here without wanting to throw a tomato at the wall for no reason other than needing to spruce up the joint. Not to mention, you're the boss of all the bosses and they pay you in gold bars. This isn't you, sparrow." I stared at her navel before continuing, "I'm also asking whether this was a one-night deal for you."
Neera pressed her palm to the center of my chest and turned her attention toward the greige draperies bookending the wall of windows beside her bed. The reverent stroke of her hand over my heart, the heat of her body against mine, the shy way she hid from the prospect of giving herself over to me. This fucking woman. She was infuriating and exasperating and adorable in ways I struggled to accept.
Most infuriating, exasperating, and unacceptable—she hadn't answered me. The woman rarely spoke without first curating her words, but even for Neera the length of this pause was remarkable.
Something was wrong. A bug in the code, as the computer-y types were wont to say.
Work wasn't the issue. My girl was brilliant. She was the boss. She knew how to compartmentalize.
She wasn't the issue. Regardless of whether she was sorting through a newfound desire to get caught in the act, this woman was rock-solid. She was bright and hungry and devious, and I saw the pieces she'd kept close and quiet.
Perhaps thiswasher crash pad and she did favor a one-and-done model. It was possible. Her nipple was pierced and she let me fuck her in broad daylight while a stranger watched. That she'd prefer casual sex wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.
It was possible but it didn't seem probable to me. Shoving a platinum rod through tender skin and early evening exhibitionism were serious business. They were commitments, and Neera managed her commitments with more righteous competency than I would've imagined possible.
All that pent-up competence meant nothing escaped Neera's notice and she saw everythingI'dkept close and quiet too. She dug them out, dusted them off, and forced me to take a long look at them. She slow-walked me to the reality that my life was rich and full, but also lonely. That sparring with a worthy opponent was divine foreplay. That I craved the pleasure of being handled by a queen who'd happily behead me.
And she'd done it while being a contemptuous pain in my ass.
It was aggravating—and deserving of admiration.
I would've admired it until her legs were shaking and my name was the only word left in her vocabulary, but she was captivated by the curtains because she wasn't the issue and neither was work or exhibitionism or anything else on her side of the bed.
That meant I was the issue.
