That felt like enough.
For now.
Chapter 9
Tashi
I wokewith my skin still tingling, memories of the night before playing across my closed eyelids like a private film. In the shower, steamy water cascaded down my body as I leaned against the cool tile, one hand sliding between my thighs. I gasped as I remembered Leo’s fingers inside me, how he’d curved them just so while his lips brushed my ear.
I squirted a generous portion of the hotel’s shower gel into my hand and worked it into a lather between my legs. Hot shower water cascaded around me, folding me into a bubble of my desires.
Leo’s heat. Orion’s intensity. Each man was distinctly different, even as they appeared very much alike. The slickness of the soap mingled with the sensation of my fingers stroking me to provide a swirl of escalating pleasure.
“That’s it,” I imagined Leo whispering as I trembled against his hand, not mine. “Come for me, Tashi.”
And, good lord, I wanted to. I was on the edge, but I wanted these delicious sensations to last, so I pulled my hand away just before I couldn’t stop my orgasm. I trembled as the orgasm receded and my body complained with a delicious burn between my legs, urging me to stroke myself once again.
I took a deep breath and recalled how intensely Orion had focused his attention on me with his tongue. The memory hit me with physical force—how he’d looked up at me with those green eyes before dropping to his knees in one fluid motion. His hands had gripped my thighs, thumbs pressing into the sensitive hollows with just enough pressure to make me gasp. I remembered the heat of his breath against my most intimate place, the anticipation making my skin prickle before his mouth even touched me. And when it did—God—the first sweep of his tongue had been gentle, almost reverent, before he’d grown bolder, hungrier.
My fingers moved in rhythm with the memory, circling and pressing as the shower spray beat down on my shoulders. I could almost feel the scrape of his stubble against my inner thighs, the way his hands had slid up to grip my hips when my knees started to buckle. He’d held me steady, relentless in his attention, his tongue finding that perfect spot that made lightning shoot up my spine.
I braced my free hand against the shower wall, legs trembling as I worked myself closer to the edge. In my mind, I saw Orion again—the way his eyes had never left mine, watching my every reaction, learning my body with the same focused intensity he brought to everything. He’d tasted me so thoroughly, so completely, drawing out every sensation until I couldn’t tell where pleasure ended, and I began.
My breath came in short, desperate pants now, echoing against the tile as I chased that perfect pressure, that perfect rhythm. When he’d finally closed his lips around my most sensitive spot and sucked—just so—while sliding two fingers inside me, I’d seen actual stars explode behind my eyelids, my entire body convulsing with pleasure so intense it had bordered on pain.
My fingers now moved more swiftly, pursuing that same release, and asserting the pleasure that was rightfully mine after months of Daniel making me feel invisible. When I came, it was with both their names on my lips as ragged gasps ripped from my lungs.
I hugged the shower wall and willed myself to stand upright as I came down from the explosion that had rocked me. Finally, I drew breath normally, stepped from the shower, still buzzing with the afterglow of pleasure, and barely made it to my bed before spotting my phone on the nightstand.
Feeling bold—reckless, maybe—I grabbed my phone and texted Orion before I could second-guess myself.
Me:Just got out of the shower. Kept thinking about the Grand Canyon. And other things.
I hit send, then immediately wanted to take it back. Too much. Too suggestive. Too?—
My phone buzzed.
Orion:Executive meeting in ten minutes.
That was it. No flirtation. There was no acknowledgement of the previous night. Just business.
Fine, I thought through gritted teeth. I coulddobusiness.
I selected the first professional attire within reach—a navy dress that fell just above the knee, complemented by nude heels obtained from the gift shop. I tucked my damp hair into a clip and didn’t bother with makeup because I didn’t have time for it.
Yep, I was a mess.
My portfolio was somewhere. Somewhere I’d left it yesterday after the facility tour and Kurt Wilder’s ambush and?—
There. On the dining table. It was buried under the marketing projections I had been reviewing before I crashed on my bed.
I gathered everything into my arms—portfolio, laptop, phone, the printed engagement metrics from my Heroes campaign—and rushed for the door.
The elevator. I needed the elevator.
I was halfway down the hall when my laptop slipped. Then the portfolio. Papers exploded across the carpet in a cascade of chaos that perfectly matched my internal state.
“Damn it,” I hissed, dropping to my knees to gather everything.
