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Authors: Crystal Cierlak

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BOOK: Sinful Reunion
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SEVEN

The jasmine scented hot water was enough to relax all but one muscle in her body. Her heart was another matter entirely. She was in
his
hotel. It was difficult to wrap her mind around, not because of the wealth but the serendipitous turn of events that had placed her in it. If it weren't for the promotion she wouldn't have been in Las Vegas at all, and Quinn just happened to book them at Eden. What were the odds?

It won't be long now
, she thought as she slid lower into the bathtub, knees parting as the water skimmed across her body. Since that night spent with the twelfth man she couldn't take a bath without thinking of him. Not that she minded. The memory was not something to be forgotten. She'd bathed that morning after he'd relentlessly brought her over the precipice of pleasure until her body could take no more. And it was in coming off that post-coital high she realized he'd focused solely on her pleasure and not his own. So she took him; all eight inches of him past her lips until he carried her into the bedroom and made love to her again, her legs wrapped around him lotus-style as they came together, his name in her breath as she moaned.

Her legs parted, water lapping against her opening as her body opened at the memory. She put two fingers between her legs and softly sighed when her clitoris responded readily. Her free had slid across her breasts, gently squeezing mounds of flesh as her fingers worked, her hips rocking to aid the sensation. She imagined they were his fingers on and in her body, longed for the weight of his body between her legs as he moved inside her. Her skin delighted at the touch of hot water rushing and receding over her breasts like the tide, flowing in rhythm as her hips moved up and down.

'James,' he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. 'My name is James.'

She kissed him, open mouth to open mouth, tongue to tongue, before kissing at his cheek, over the sideburn stubble, and finally to his ear, biting at the skin beneath it.

'Oh, James,' she breathed, delirious at the simple triumph of having finally learned his name. 'Come with me, James.'

She stilled, muscles contracting deliriously as she rode the high of her orgasm to adequate satiation. It was never the same as it had been with him. With any luck she'd know consumptive satiation again.
With him
.

 

 

She couldn't sleep even if she wanted to. She lay in the bed with her eyes closed, trying to empty her mind of any thoughts or memories of him. It wasn't easy. Despite the release she'd found in the bath she easily returned to a state of nervous energy. When she heard Quinn return from her shopping excursion she abandoned any hope of sleep and instead returned to the living room.

"This dress is so perfect I'm actually jealous! And don't scream at me when you see the receipt because I
know
you can afford this. Or at least, you will be able to after tonight."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that if Gentleman Twelve doesn't fall head over heels in love with you when he sees you in this dress then I know nothing at all."

"Come on, he's not going to fall in love with me because of a dre-" And then she saw it. "
Shit
."

Quinn pulled the dress from cover of the garment bag and swooned. "Metallic thread woven into the most gorgeous silk blend. And couldn't you just die for the pleating in the skirt? The way it will just pour from your curves. God, I'm good."

It was stunning; metallic taupe silk with the thinnest of straps over the shoulders and a skirt that would hit just above the ankle. It was graceful, balletic, and sexy as hell. She was starting to believe in her own luck.

An hour later her skin had been softened with a luxurious cream, her hair smoothed into a chignon, and her face made up to be simple but striking: winged black eyeliner, a hint of bronze in the hollows of her cheeks, a brush of champagne-highlighter across the apples of her cheeks, and a glossy nude lip gloss that tingled and puckered her lips. By the time she slipped on the dress and took in her reflection she could hardly recognize herself. She was polished and refined. The dress hugged at her ample breasts and hips before flowing decadently down her legs to her ankles, her feet decorated with the simplest of black strappy heels.

"Honestly," Quinn began from her side, her eyes taking in Natalie from head to toe, "if I wasn't so sure of my sexuality I think you in this dress would make me question it."

"Thank you. I think." Natalie took a deep breath and turned to the side watching how the dress moved as she did.

"Here." Quinn held up the garment bag to reveal a second item inside. "Wear this on top and then let him unwrap you in it." She took out the piece and held it to Natalie: a floor-length, off-white satin-crepe cape that tied at the neck. Natalie slid the cape on and instantly felt lovelier and more elegant. She couldn't help but smile at her reflection.

"Do I want to know how much this cost?"

"More than six thou," Quinn smiled, her hands on Natalie's shoulders. "But you look like a billion. Do you remember the plan?"

"How could I forget? I'm going to go down into the lobby and wait."

"Trust me, you won't be waiting long."

 

 

The elevator doors opened on the main level and Natalie walked through, ignoring the heads that turned to stare in awe at her as she made her way to the marble-and-chandelier lobby. She stood at the bottom step of one of the two grand staircases, her arm resting comfortably on the ornate black and gold banister, and waited. It was a concentrated effort to remain cool and composed, to not let her eyes wander around for any sight of
him
, but she managed.

Her stomach was aflutter with nerves. If it weren't for the fact that she was standing perfectly still she'd fear toppling over in the strappy shoes.

"Good evening, Miss Harlow."

She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. She turned and was greeted by a handsome man in a crisp black suit whose nametag bore the name Brandon. Either the staff at Eden was exceptional at memorizing the names of every guest, or he had been sent for her specifically.

"May I escort you to your destination this evening?"

She tried to breathe deeply without him noticing. "Do I have a destination?"

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled. "The other half of your party -
Gentleman Twelve
, is it? - is waiting for you in the Garden Suite."

"Escort away."

She followed as Brandon climbed the staircase and crossed the threshold of
Bidden
- a lounge so posh Natalie would have fit right in in her several-thousand-dollar coat and dress - and brought her to the black lacquered doors of an elevator. Retrieving a key card from his inside jacket pocket, Brandon inserted it into the panel and the elevator doors opened at once.

"If you please," he motioned with his hand. When they were both inside he entered his keycard again into a second panel and depressed a button marked
'PH-B'
.

Natalie fidgeted beneath the draped fabric of her cape, hands wringing fingers as the elevator climbed higher up the floor count. Her heart beat with a violent enthusiasm in her chest. One night. Five months. A random trip. It was coming together. At any moment the elevator doors would open and-

Ping
.

"Your key," Brandon offered.

She accepted the gold key card, noting the heaviness of it in comparison to her own room key. "Have a good evening, Miss Harlow."

 

 

Natalie inhaled and exhaled slowly, gold key card positioned in her hand to unlock the red, double-door entrance of the Garden Suite. The door handle was gold, ornate, surprisingly old fashion considering the technology. It reminded her of Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole and the door that was too small to go through.

She closed her eyes as a memory from that night came fresh to mind.

'Everyone else who comes in here, man or woman, knows what they’re getting into. They know the rules. It is — what was the word you used? — a transaction between willing participants, between adults. And there you are, fresh from your fall through the rabbit hole.'

This, however, was not a transaction. There was no auction, no viewing session or envelope full of money. And yet she was just as nervous standing outside the Garden Suite door as she was entering the penthouse back home. She knew more about him now; things that didn't matter and those that did. He was married. He had a kid. He had an entire life beyond the red double-door entrance and there was no clue as to how she might be entangling herself into that life once she inserted the key card and stepped through.

Am I prepared for this?

 

 

EIGHT

The lock mechanism made a satisfying
click
as Natalie slipped the gold key card into it. A small electric green light brightened to indicate she was free to open the door. Her hand gripped the door handle and turned, but she stopped just short of pushing forward and opening it. She steeled herself for what she might find on the other side. For seeing
him
and what might follow.

I can do this
.

She pushed the door open and crossed the threshold into the Garden Suite. It looked similar to her own, just on a much grander scale. There was no sight of him in it.

Stepping further into the room she noticed a long dining room table with two lit tapered candles in silver candlesticks in the center, loose papers and a laptop scattered around them.

"Can you have someone messenger them over? I'm at Eden, so tell-"

She turned at the sound of his voice, her heart flipping into her stomach when his blue-green eyes found her. He stopped mid-stride, mid-sentence with whoever he was on the phone with.

"I'll call you back." He slipped the phone into an interior pocket of his navy blue suit, effectively ending the call. "Natalie."

"Hello, James." She blushed under the scrutiny of his gaze as his eyes drifted across her face, down the silk-crepe cape to her shoes and back up again, resting just for a moment on her lips before meeting her eyes again. He was better looking than her fantasies suggested. Clean cut, honey colored hair in the same style he wore when she first saw him. Sexy as all get out.

"Of all the hotels in all of Vegas-" he started.

"You just happen to own this one?" she finished. "Young men don’t just drift cooly out of nowhere and buy a hotel in Vegas."

He bit his bottom lip then ran his tongue across the top, considering her and her words. He seemed to relax when recognition dawned. "Ben told you who I am."

"Ben told me your name. Google told me who you are."

"Ah, my name." He smiled and bounced back on his heels, his eyes casting up towards the coffered ceiling above. "And now you know everything?" He took a step toward her.

"Do I?" Her pulse raced in his presence but she remained calm, not willing to give away anything when he so easily read her before. "You're here."

"Yes." Another step.

"You're married."

His steps diverted from their path straight to her and went instead to a full sized bar adjacent to the dining table that doubled as a desk. She waited patiently as he poured red wine into two stemless glasses, offering her one as he turned.

He sighed as the space between them narrowed to no more than arm's-length distance. "I am."

She didn't sip, merely held the glass and watched as he took a drink. "You have a daughter."

"It's complicated," he answered quickly, his eyebrows creasing beneath his forehead as his eyes cast downward at his glass.

"Your wife had a child. What's complicated about that?"

"I'm not the father." His eyes met hers again, a conflicted maelstrom in the deep blue-green.

"Oh."

"You came up here dressed like that to ask about my Google search results?"

She wasn't going to let him distract her that easily, not when he was being so forthcoming and she was finally learning about the mysterious Gentleman Twelve. "Did she cheat on you?"

His eyes narrowed at her deflection. "Is it my imagination or are you not as polite as you once were?"

She shrugged casually but her eyes were focused as lasers on him. "Curiosity isn't a sin."

The corners of his mouth picked up at that. "Isn't it though? My wife was curious. Had an affair with another man. Got pregnant. Pretended the child was mine for a while. Is that not a sin?"

"
You
had an affair with me."

"It's not an affair if I pay you for sex. Speaking of which, did you pay off your student loans?"

She bristled at his words, how he reduced their one night together into a sufficiently convenient explanation. "It's in an account that pays out each month, that way I still get the benefit to my credit score."
I'm talking finance with a billionaire. Because this is normal.

"Good girl." He smiled conspiratorially, a hint of pride in his eyes. Then, "What else did Google tell you about me?"

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, redirecting the conversation once again. "Not five minutes into check-in we were being upgraded to a suite."

"How do you like it, by the way? Your suite?"

"I- It's fine. It's beautiful actually. Why did you put us there?"

"This is my hotel," he gestured around with his wine glass, his free hand in his pants pocket. "You think I don't know what goes on in my own hotel? I
put you there
because I wanted to make sure you were taken care of. Sounds like you deserve it, Miss Junior Vice President."

Natalie was taken aback. "How did you-?"

"You told me. Last night. You still have my mask, by the way."

Natalie brought the full glass of wine to her lips for the first time and drank it down in one gulp, grimacing as the tannin-filled merlot passed over her tongue like a dry napkin.

He was her mystery masked man from Serpentine. She vaguely recalled that she thought he looked similar to the twelfth man, and up until the cabana when he partially revealed himself to her she had no reason whatsoever to suspect it was him all along.

A blunt laugh escaped her as she remembered waking up with little memory of the night before. "You undressed me. Put me in my pajamas."

"I did."

"You left me in the middle of the night."

"I did."

"You could have stayed. Slept with me."

"I don't sleep with women whose permission isn't given."

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Trust me, you have my permission."

James stepped in closer until the gap that separated them was mere inches. He didn't touch her, but her skin burned at the anticipation of it. "Is that why you're here, Natalie?"

"I'm here because
you're here
. Once I figured out who you are, made the connections between everything that's happened since we got here, I wondered why you'd gone to such lengths just to keep your presence hidden." If she breathed any harder her chest would just barely graze against his, and even the thought of their clothing touching made her heart race faster.

"Should I be offended that you didn't realize it was me last night, Natalie? That me kissing you didn't spark a memory of that night?"

"I don't need a spark to remember. Last night, however, I was drunk. And you know that, otherwise you might have done things differently."

"Maybe. The Natalie I know wouldn't have had a one-night stand. Not like that."

"You mean not without the benefit of an auction? Perhaps I'm not the same Natalie. Or maybe you don't know me at all."

"I think I know you well enough." His smile was suggestive, bordering on lascivious. Yes, he knew her,
in the biblical sense
, an irony given the very thematic nature of the hotel itself. "Besides, you promised me you wouldn't go back."

"Actually I didn't." Her jaw lifted, a small but purposeful act of defiance against him. Though why she was feeling combative at all was a mystery to her. "You asked me to promise but I never did."

His eyes darkened as they searched her, and the smallest scowl curled at his top lip. "That's not a place for a girl like you, Natalie," he said, his voice as dark as his eyes.

She looked down at the sudden pressure at her elbows and found his hands wrapped around them, holding her tightly in place. "Tell me," she began, her eyes climbing back up to his. "Where
should
I be? What place is there for a girl like me, James?" It was a marvel to watch his face as he fought every emotion that came to surface: arrogance, confusion, self-righteousness, desire. She affected him. Was
actively
affecting him in that moment, in the close space of his territorial embrace. She touched her fingertips to his chest with gentle ease in a move meant to calm what he was barely controlling. "I never went back. Not that I wasn't tempted to."
I only would have gone to find you.

His hands weakened but kept their hold on her. "You would have been disappointed if you had gone back. Though I can't say the same for whomever would have won you."

Was he saying that he never went back either? Did he never once think to find her, the way she often thought to find him? No, she wouldn't dwell on that. That line of thinking led to a mental space she did
not
want to occupy.

"I'm not some fragile young woman who needs protecting, you know. I was raised by good parents. I went to school. I've traveled a bit. I pay bills like an adult..."

"Maybe I like the idea of you needing my protection? This world I live in-"

"I don't live in
your
world," she interrupted. "You want someone to protect and shelter from the big bad world of whatever it is you do? Start with your wife."

As soon as the first foot stepped backwards he let her go from his grasp. She turned and headed for the door, just in time to hear him call out, "Soon to be
ex
-wife." She stopped, hand on the ornate gold door handle. "If that makes any difference to you?"

Did it make any difference to her? She wasn't under some grand delusion that the two of them had any kind of a future together beyond the confines of a penthouse hotel room, either in Los Angeles or Las Vegas. There was nowhere for them to go
except
the bedroom, and despite the aching want between her thighs she knew another night spent with him would give her nothing more than another five months of wondering what might have been. She had to know better from the start. She
should
have known better before she ever put on the dress.

She turned and glanced at him over her shoulder. "Does it to you? Or are you only telling me because you think the only way I would have a one-night stand is if it's with you?"

"I'm telling you because when I asked you to promise never to go back to the auction I thought I was doing what was in your best interest." He crossed the room until he was at her side, his body physically blocking the door from opening. "What I could never have anticipated was the realization I had upon walking into the lobby of my own hotel yesterday and finding you in it. Up until the moment Brandon brought you to me I hadn't decided if I was going to make my presence known to you at all."

"You hadn't decided, but you came to my cabana anyway?"

"Curiosity." He smiled and her knees turned to jelly, nearly toppling her topside.

She turned to face him but kept her hand on the door handle, ready to go should the fight-or-flight response in the limbic system of her brain move full stop to
flight
. "So then what was this realization you had?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Breathe, Natalie
, she told herself. "It doesn't matter." She hoped she sounded resolute, but she wasn't sure. She turned the handle and managed to open it a full three inches before James pushed it back to a close with the palm of his hand.

"So that's it then?"

"James," she sighed.

"
Natalie
. Look at me." Her resolve weakened the moment she complied, her eyes turning to his and finding them as wanting of her as she was of him. "Would you be content to walk out that door and never see me again?"

She didn't need time to think of her response. "No. But I've already done it once before."

"Or you could stay," he implored her, his hands back on her body, fingertips pressing into her shoulders.

"To what end?"

"Why does there have to be an end?"

Because she knew better; knew that whatever she did - stay or go - she would wind up in the same position: thinking about what little time she spent with him, obsessing over every touch, each kiss, and letting him distract her from her life.

"Besides..." His fingers pulled at the fabric securing the cape around her neck. "I'm dying to find out what's underneath here."

His words like a match, he lit her. She knew at that moment that regardless of
the end
she wanted
the now
more than anything else.

 

 

 

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