Filthy Rich Page 14

  I told him my story—the breakup, the late-night working. “I don’t usually work so late,” I said, “but my boss wouldn’t let me leave.”

  “Your boss sounds demanding,” Max said.

  I looked at his familiar dark eyes, feeling myself smile. “He’s not an asshole, not really. He’s just moody.”

  His eyebrows went up. He was definitely interested in this topic. “You think he’s moody?”

  “Sure he is. He’s rich, but he hasn’t always been rich. He isn’t spoiled—part of him is still rough. When he’s in a good mood, he’s nice. But then he gets dark. For example, there was an entire week when he barely spoke to me.”

  Max frowned, ready to argue. “He probably had a good reason.”

  “No, he didn’t.” I was enjoying this. I took another sip of my spritzer. “Everyone in the office is terrified of him. No one wants to cross him. I’ve never seen it happen, but I know it’s bad.”

  “Um.” Max cleared his throat. “Well, maybe the guy is under a lot of stress.”

  “Maybe. It doesn’t make him any less intimidating, though.”

  He looked at me in shock. “Your boss intimidates you?”

  I laughed. “Of course he does. He’s intimidated me since the first minute I met him. I can’t believe I’ve worked for him all this time and he hasn’t caught on.”

  There was a second of silence between us, louder than any of the laughter at the bar. Just him and me and the air practically shimmering. I could feel every part of my body, my blood pulsing, the breeze on my skin.

  “You know what, Leigh?” he said at last.

  I shivered. “What?”

  “I feel bad for you, working for this guy. Dealing with his moods and his intimidation. Staying at the office until nine at night. I think you need to release some tension.”

  I could feel his gaze on me like a touch, brushing along my neck, down past my collarbones. “I could do that,” I said slowly. “Release tension.”

  “Good, because I have an idea.”

  That was how we ended up in one of the bathrooms ten minutes later. The bathrooms at Shaker’s, it turned out, were beautifully decorated and incredibly clean. And private. Especially the one at the very back of the last corridor, where it seemed that no one else went.

  Max—Aidan—pressed me against the counter, his strong arms boxing me in, his hips against mine, his lips moving expertly up my neck. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I could feel his rough jeans through my skirt. I had never done anything like this before, but I let my head fall back, let my eyes close. “How much time do we have?” I breathed.

  “Fifteen minutes, maybe,” was the answer against my skin. “Twenty tops.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think. Relax. I’ll take care of it. Tension release, remember?”

  His mouth took mine, tasting of warm man and whiskey. His teeth raked against my lip and I felt the sting through my body, down between my legs. His hands moved to my skirt, pulling it up gently and then pulling my panties down.

  I felt my fingers dig into the hard muscles of his shoulders. Aidan, I thought crazily. This is Aidan, the man I went to look at real estate with the other day. The man I see at the office almost every day. The man who had given me the orgasm of my life just by sitting on his sofa with me naked in his lap. That had been so intense I’d been dazed. I barely remembered leaving, had no idea what I’d said. I had the feeling I’d done it wrong somehow, but it hadn’t occurred to me until I was sitting in Aidan’s hired car, his driver taking me home in the rain.

  If I’d done something wrong that night, he’d obviously forgiven me.

  This wasn’t me, this office girl who let herself get seduced by a cocky pilot, who was locked in a public bathroom with her panties on the floor and a man’s gorgeous hands lifting her skirt up. Except for in my fantasies, this had never, ever been me.

  The still-functioning fragments of my brain managed to remember something practical. “Do you have a condom?” I asked.

  “Don’t need one,” he said against my mouth.

  “But—”

  “I’ve got it handled. Relax.”

  I was going to argue, but then I saw what he meant. Because he put his hands on my hips, lifting me to the counter. Then he lowered to his knees.

  I had definitely, definitely never done this.

  Hardly ever, in regular circumstances. And never in public, fully dressed except for my panties, with a stranger.

  But his touch was familiar as he pushed my knees apart. And even though he’d never done this to me before, his mouth still felt familiar when he licked between my legs.

  I gasped aloud, my hands gripping the edge of the counter, my hips lifting off. Flinching and at the same time wanting more. The reaction I always had when he touched me there.

  He took it as an invitation.

  He was right.

  How did he know what to do? Because he knew exactly what pressure to put where, exactly how hard, for exactly how long. He knew how to make me crazy, how to make me lose my dignity. Ten minutes ago, I’d never done this and as far as I knew, I never would. Now I had my legs open in a bathroom and I was going to come, fast and hard, dirty and intense, and it was pure bliss.

  He was as good as his word. I bit my lips, trying not to cry out as the orgasm hit me, shaking me to my core. He was merciless all the way through, teasing every ripple out of me. Then, instead of taking pity on me, he slipped his fingers through my hot flesh and rubbed me, punctuating the movement with his tongue. I moaned in surrender, and incredibly, I felt the pressure building again. I gave in to it, letting him do everything he wanted, feeling the pleasure go up and up, tighter and tighter, until I came a second time.

  When I was finally finished and coming down, he backed away and put the hem of my skirt down, almost polite.

  He stood, picking up my panties from the floor. He was unbearably beautiful in that moment, sexy and dirty and daring. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My entire body was high with bliss. I had never seen a more perfect man in my life.

  He’s mine, I thought. He has to be.

  He put my panties in my hand. “Stress relief, like I promised,” he said. For a second I thought he was going to lean in and kiss me, but instead he smiled. I could have sworn that something behind that smile was a little sad.

  “Thank you. Time for me to leave,” he said.

  By the time I remembered that was what I’d said to him the last time, the door had already closed behind him.

  Twenty-Eight

  Aidan

  * * *

  It was six thirty in the morning. I was at the gym in my building and I had just finished my workout—I was covered in sweat—when my phone rang. It was Alex. I mopped my forehead with a towel and answered it.

  “It’s done,” Alex said. “I found our missing computer programmer and got him out of his hidey hole. I got him to talk about the Egerton brothers and their app.”

  “And?”

  “And yes, they definitely stole the code. He had a lawsuit set to go against them and everything. He was going to win. But the Egertons convinced him to drop it.”

  “How the hell did they do that?”

  “Money, and lots of it. They also threatened to tell his current girlfriend about his previous girlfriend’s abortion. These programmers all know each other, and they know each other’s dirty secrets.”

  “What a couple of assholes,” I said. “I don’t regret taking them down now.”

  “You didn’t regret it before, Aidan.”

  “True.” I thought it over. “So he took the money under the table, but he didn’t sign anything.”

  “No NDA, no nothing. Not a damn thing. Which makes them a couple of very stupid assholes.”

  I stood and left the gym, heading for the elevator. “You convinced him to talk?”

  “It wasn’t hard. He knows they’re going to take the company public and make hundreds of millions. It’
s been a few years since he took the deal, and he’s bitter about it. He has a lot to say.”

  “And the girlfriend?” I asked as the elevator doors closed.

  “She’s his wife now, and they have a kid. The ex-girlfriend is a nonissue by this point. Oh, and he’s sick of Florida. He hates it there. Having just spent a week there, I don’t blame him.”

  “Get him to New York, all expenses paid,” I said. “His wife and child, too. I’ll get our lawyers to depose him. I’ll call some of my contacts at the Federal Trade Commission. I think they’ll be interested to know what the Egertons are hiding from potential investors before they go public.”

  “You know, at first I thought you were crazy,” Alex said. “Going after these guys because of a couple of comments? I know they were out of line, but it seemed like you were overreacting. But now that I’ve learned what scumbags the Egertons are, I’m all for it. Let’s see if we can burn them down.”

  I walked into my penthouse to shower and get dressed for work. “I just look nice. You know that.”

  “True. You might wear a suit, but you can’t take the Chicago kid out of you, Aidan. Deep down, you’re still that kid I met when we were fifteen, who was ready to fight anyone who pissed him off.”

  I pulled my sweaty shirt off over my head and dumped it in the hamper, then put the phone back to my ear. “Speaking of which, I have an idea about Noah’s Chicago project.”

  “Yeah, that,” Alex said. He’d voted against it, just like I had. “Are you changing your mind? You want to invest in a rundown old building for sentimental reasons?”

  “I’ve been looking over some of the data,” I said. “Noah might be right. It has potential other than the fact that we lived there.”

  “I know that neighborhood, Aidan. That building is a charity project. And we’re not in the business of charity.”

  I thought of standing on a street on the Lower East Side with Samantha, looking at a building through her eyes and seeing something I wasn’t used to seeing. “I think we can do more than just make money,” I said to Alex. “And you won’t have to do anything.”

  “All right, I’m listening.”

  So I told him my idea. He was quiet while I talked, and quiet when I finished. Quiet for too long.

  “Well?” I said. “What do you think?”

  “I’ve never heard you come up with anything like this,” Alex said.

  “That isn’t an answer. Yes or no?”

  “I don’t hate it,” he admitted. “At least, not completely. Do you think Noah and Dane will go for it?”

  I wasn’t sure at all, but I said, “Yes.”

  “Liar. Okay, fine. You have my vote. If you can convince the other two, then do it.”

  I grinned. “I knew you’d come around.”

  “There’s one other person you have to convince,” Alex said. “Good luck with it.” He hung up.

  After our last encounter, I wasn’t sure what Samantha thought of me. I had no doubt that we’d played the game to perfection, and absolutely no doubt that I’d pleased her—I’d left her in an orgasmic puddle in the bathroom at Shaker’s. And yes, I was pretty fucking proud of it.

  But the way I left was abrupt. That was on purpose, to remind her that she wasn’t in complete control of this game, that she didn’t hold all the cards. That playing required both of us. She had left me at a disadvantage after the night at the art gallery—I’d been shaken by that encounter, pushed off-balance. I’d been dying for her, and she hadn’t noticed. I didn’t particularly like feeling like she had me at her back and call—and she didn’t even know it. Turnabout was fair play.

  By eight thirty I was dressed in my usual black—it was warm today, so I wore dress pants and a shirt but had left off my jacket—and I was in the lobby of the office, waiting for the elevator. I heard heels clicking softly on the marble behind me, and I smelled a familiar scent. In the space of a second, I knew who it was.

  Samantha came to stand beside me, waiting. She was wearing a dark blue short-sleeved button-up dress, her hair up in its usual professional twist. Her makeup was subtle and lovely as always. And she wore low heels with ankle straps.

  My gaze dropped to the shoes—those sexy shoes—and then the dress. My sexual fantasies had been right. She looked incredible in blue.

  I raised my gaze to her profile. She was staring fixedly at the elevator button. There was a pink flush on her cheekbones that wasn’t blush.

  “Good morning, Samantha,” I said.

  She cleared her throat, soft and ladylike. “Good morning, Aidan.”

  Still she wouldn’t look at me. I remembered pushing her skirt up, pushing her thighs apart, and tasting her. I remembered what she tasted like and the sounds she made. I remembered making her come. Twice.

  I could tell she was remembering the same thing. She just wasn’t going to admit it.

  Right there, in that moment, was when I decided to push her to the edge. Over it, if possible. I wanted to see how far we could go.

  I glanced behind me to check that no one was in earshot, that the security guard was sitting behind his desk, looking somewhere else. Then I dropped my voice and said, “Honey.”

  Samantha started, blinked. She looked at me. “What?”

  “Honey,” I said. “That’s what you tasted like.”

  Her eyes widened. Her mouth actually opened as her jaw dropped. Then the elevator dinged, the doors opening.

  I put a hand to Samantha’s elbow and guided her in, then pressed the button. The doors closed and we were alone.

  Now her neck was flushing red. “We’re at work,” she said. “You can’t say things like that.”

  “Yes, I can. It’s an astute observation, considering I could still taste you when I got home last night. I replayed the sounds you make when you come while I jerked off in the shower.”

  “Aidan.” She swallowed her shock and pressed her lips together. “I suppose I’m glad you enjoyed it. You certainly left fast enough.”

  I glanced at her. We were standing shoulder to shoulder, almost touching but not quite. She wasn’t looking at me. “You didn’t like that?” I asked.

  Her lips thinned even more. “Was I supposed to?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the queen of fast exits.”

  The doors opened on our floor. Samantha strode out, across the open office. I followed her. The receptionist was at her desk and a few other people were working. If they watched us, I didn’t notice.

  She unlocked her office and ducked inside, but I stood in the doorway before she could shut me out. I leaned on the doorframe and watched her put down her purse. “Don’t you have your own office to go to?” she asked.

  “I’m the boss,” I reminded her. “Look at me.”

  “Aidan, this is completely—”

  “Look at me.”

  She finally turned and faced me, flustered, her skin flushed. She was beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

  I wanted her. I wanted Samantha. Rules or no rules. She was what I wanted.

  “I think we’re going to renegotiate the game,” I said.

  Now she started to look outraged. “We’re not renegotiating. And we can’t do it here.”

  “Where, if not here? My place? I’m up for it. You already have the codes to my penthouse.”

  “Are you being a pig on purpose, or is it just your natural state?”

  “I’m being your boss and the man who plays your game whenever you want it.”

  “My game?” she said. “It’s your game, too.”

  She was right. I’d liked being a pilot, picking up an office girl while he was in town for a few hours. I’d liked being an art dealer and a stranger picking up a girl in the rain, too. But the game, for me, wasn’t the end goal. I knew that now. Samantha was the end goal.

  I hadn’t always gotten what I wanted in life. In fact, I rarely had. Strange thing for a rich man to say, but true. If I wanted Samantha, I already knew I’d have to work for it. And I already knew she’d
be worth it.

  But first, we had to discuss the game.

  “Meet in my office,” I told her. “You have ten minutes.”

  She was still staring at me as I walked out the door.

  Twenty-Nine

  Samantha

  * * *

  I didn’t go to his office in ten minutes. Or twenty. Or forty.

  I made him wait an hour.

  Was it petty? Yes, it was. Was it childish? Yes, it was. Was it just a way to see if I could push his buttons the way he’d pushed mine? Definitely.

  But damn it, he’d broken the rules. We’d set the game up perfectly and we’d played it without a hitch—this strange thing that satisfied both of us. We were in sync. And then he’d told me that I tasted like honey—right here in the elevator at work.

  And it had made my heart beat faster and my breath come short, just like the game did.

  That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.

  I had spent all of last night thinking about how he’d left me at Shaker’s, the words he’d used. The slightly sad look in his eyes when he said them. And I realized that somewhere along the way, I’d screwed up. I’d misread him. We weren’t as in sync as I thought we were.

  We’d made a strict rule never to talk about the rules of the game. That back-and-forth, chess-match aspect had made things more exciting. But it had also meant he couldn’t tell me I’d been a jerk in the usual way. So he’d done it by getting me off twice in a restaurant bathroom, then leaving.

  Okay, I had to address what had happened. But I didn’t have to jump when Aidan snapped his fingers, boss or not. We’d never had that relationship before the game began. Just because he’d given me the best, most intense orgasms of my life didn’t mean that we’d have that relationship now. I was still his executive assistant, the best one at Executive Ranks. I wasn’t his minion. I would go to his office, but I would do it on my time.