Later in the day, just an hour before the demos wrap up, when all the attendees have long since retired to the various hotel bars, the hall is echoing and empty. A few meandering people cluster in the center of the space, clutching their pamphlets and talking together.
Akela said she had to go to the bathroom half an hour ago, so either she ran into someone interesting or decided she was done for the day.
I sit at the booth, sketching on the back of one of our informational papers. At first, my hand had itched to draw myself, back arched in Dane’s lap, but I knew that was a really bad idea.
So, instead, I just draw Dane. Sitting in the leather seat, his white knuckles gripping the armrest, his dark eyes bottomless and staring out from the sketch, beckoning. It’s a snapshot of how I fantasize about him, saying, darkly, “Come for me.”
I really can’t even blame myself for the endless daydreaming. I’mliterallysurrounded by sex, day and night.
“That’s good.” It’s Dane’s deep voice over my shoulder.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I twist and try to cover the drawing, but only manage to knock it to the ground, where it glides for a second before sticking under Dane’s polished dress shoe.
He raises an eyebrow at me before bending down to retrieve it, depositing it on the table. I reach out, heart pounding, and flip it over hastily, so the company information is staring back at us.
“It’s not you,” I hasten to lie, cheeks flaming, even though that’sverystupid. Of course, it’s him. Him on the plane, with the same look on his face he wore when I lowered myself down onto his thick cock.
“Of course not,” he says, but his amusement shows in the quirk of his mouth. I realize I’m starting to learn to read his expression, that what once appeared flat and emotionless to me is now full of small hints, a language you can read if you know it.
I want to insist that it’s really not him, but there’s no point. My mortification balloons until I can barely swallow around it. Now, not only was I an awkward lay on his plane, but I’m a lovesick little girl.
There’s a reason he told me, pointedly, that he doesn’t date. And that’s because I’veobviouslynever done something like this before.
But I want to.
God, I want to. I would take Dane any way he’d let me have him. And maybe that makes me desperate, or a slut, but I don’t have the energy to defend myself, even to the voice in my head. I haven’t been able to think about anything else but the other positions he might put me in.
What he could teach me, if given the chance.
Or, more precisely, if hewantedto.
Which he clearly does not. In another universe, my drawing would be the opening for some flirting, for him to whisper in my ear about it, about the position and the look in his eyes. But now, he just clears his throat, shifting away from me, nothing but the slightly amused look on his face to give anything away.
“I’m going to meet some industry people in the bar,” he says, levelly. “You’re more than welcome to head up to the room early.”
I get his meaning loud and clear—he would like me out of the way before he gets there.
Oh,god, what if he’s planning on bringing a woman back to the room? If he still needs a release after what we did, if he wants to be with someone a little more mature, a little more experienced? Someone who can actually make him feel good, someone who doesn’t need instructions for sex?
The thought makes me sick, and makes my face flame, and all I can do is nod, because what am I going to do? Ask him if he’s coming back alone? If he would reconsider his earlier pronouncement, while he wasstill inside me, that it could never happen again?
“Have a good night,” I rasp, instead of everything I want to say.
Dane’s already looking at his phone, and once again only flicks his eyes up at me for a moment, saying, “You as well, Lucy.”
Chapter 12
Dane
Fucking your assistant is a bad idea, in more ways than one, and I’m paying for it now.
That little trick, forcing me into the same suite as her for the duration of the conference—it’s a twisted knife from some cosmic force, from the universe, delivering the ultimate punishment for my lack of control.
To dangle her in front of me, her sweet perfume floating through the sitting room, her warmth just at my side as we calmly stood in the hall, watching the demonstration of a libido-building lube. Edible lingerie, eco-friendly condoms, and more pleasure products than a single person could ever possibly make good use of.
For the first few days of the conference, I’m able to avoid Lucy for the most part. The first night, when I find her drawing me, I wait for her to walk away before grabbing the paper, picking it up like I’m checking a hand at the poker table.
It’s just a drawing of me, but it’s practically fucking obscene.
