“For the auction. There must be any number of high-end galleries in this city. Can’t we just approach someone else?”

  Right. The auction. For the gala in just under three weeks. Her ability to get back on track after a setback is awe-inspiring. I drag my brain back to the subject in hand, a difficult proposition when her skin is so soft and smooth under my fingers.

  “It’s not about the price. We’re not looking for expensive, we’re looking for quirky, different, out of the ordinary. The foundation doesn’t just support the poor, it also supports children who have talents which don’t fit in traditional academia. We wanted artworks which would fit with that, and they can be hard to find.”

  Her head tilts slightly, and she looks at me as if we’ve only just met. Her appraisal continues for long enough to make me slightly uncomfortable, and then her face clears. “I have an idea.”

  She pulls out her phone and types something in. “One of my friends managed to follow her art after school. She’s got a bunch of things I think you’ll like.”

  She hands me her phone, and I’m astonished to see exactly the kind of thing we want. Exuberant, unusual, bursting with life. Whoever this woman is, she’s incredibly talented, and exactly what we want. I tell Shay so, and she beams at me.

  This time I bask in that smile, knowing I earned it.

  She dials a number. “Hi Fiona, it’s Shay. I’m well, thanks, how are you?... Awesome! That’s great news! Look, I’m organizing an event, and they want to do a silent auction, but with quirky, different stuff, and they love yours… Well, obviously. You’re brilliant… Shut up, you’re amazing. Anyway, it’s on June 21st. Can you make that?... Hmmm, okay, that should be fine. Let me call around and get you some help. I’ll call you back in an hour or so, okay?”

  She hangs up and looks over at me. “She’s got the pieces, but transport might be a problem. This is probably a stupid question, but—”

  “We can afford it. Do whatever you need to do.” And again, with the smile. I’m on a roll.

  I sit back and watch her shine as she makes call after call, wheedling, begging, persuading. People across this city are happy to help her out. That’s not just good business relationships. That’s being the kind of person people want to help. She’s never arrogant or demanding. She just asks, and they say yes.

  And why wouldn’t they? She’s kind and generous and appreciative. She saw an opportunity for her friend, and she’s passing it on. Organized and thoughtful on top of everything else.

  She’s perfect. The kind of woman you want to hold onto always.

  The thought rocks me, and yet, it feels so right. My mind starts spinning. I have more than a gala to organize. I need to figure out how to persuade Shay to give me, us, a shot at forever.

  ***

  Shay

  Max has been dropping me home in his town car every day, which I both adore and hate. Adore because it’s wonderful not to have to fight my way out of the city on the subway, especially in the mid-summer heat and humidity. Hate because it means yet more time in the back of his insanely plush, air-conditioned car, in the dark, just inches from his hard, muscled body, the scent of his cologne teasing me…

  Brett must think I’m a nutcase. Every time he opens the door, I’m out of that car like I’ve been fired from a cannon. It’s becoming harder and harder to keep my hands to myself, especially when Max just sits there, looking at me like a lion eyeing up a gazelle.

  Not that I’m built like a gazelle, you understand. More like the StayPuft Marshmallow Man, but that doesn’t seem to bother Max. If anything, I feel like a queen, a curvy melting queen, when he looks at me that way. The man is a god, and he looks at me like I’m his goddess.

  Today, though, the car pulls up a lot sooner than usual, and I look around in confusion. I don’t recognize the view out the window, and turn to frown at Max. “Where are we?”

  He smiles, but his eyes are hot and hard, roving my body in a way that makes me want to peel my clothes off my suddenly too tight skin.

  “I thought a celebration was in order,” he says, his voice deeper and rougher than usual. “The project is going extremely well, and you keep forgetting to eat. This way, I can cover both bases.”

  The door opens, and I look up at the glittering facade of the Shelby Tower, the tallest building in the city. It’s home to a lot of things, including a very up market hotel. I look at him. Is he planning to seduce me?

  My lady parts suddenly sit up and start to beg. Oh please, please, please…! I try to slap them down, but it’s no good. I’ve gone from zero to tingles in the space of a breath.

  “It’s just dinner, Shay,” he says, quietly, and I look back to see the heat banked in his eyes. “It’s just dinner.”

  I drag in a shaky breath and climb out of the car, telling myself I’m not disappointed. I can’t sleep with my boss, I just can’t…

  He puts his hand in the small of my back, guiding me through the revolving doors, and the heat from his skin burns me through my jacket and blouse, sending molten heat trickling through my veins. I focus on the floor, the walls, the inside of the elevator with smooth walls which he doesn’t push me up against, and then the doors open...to the night sky.

  “Oh!” I can’t help it; my gasp of surprise just slips out. This high up, you can actually see stars, since we’re so much higher than all the other buildings pumping out light. An inky blanket punctuated with pinpricks of light flows overhead, and I just want to stand there and drink it in until the sun rises.

  “Shay, I brought you here to eat, not get a crick in your neck.” His hand is at my elbow now, gently but firmly propelling me forwards. Eventually, I accept that I have to look where I’m going, or I’m going to walk into something or trip over, and then I’ll just feel stupid.

  I hate feeling stupid.

  We round a corner to find a small table laid for two, with candles flickering in hurricane lamps, flatware and cutlery gleaming in the light of the flames. Music trickles through the air, a delicate lilting melody, and a waiter stands off to the side, a snowy white napkin draped over one arm. A warming trolley sits next to him, various dishes covered up against the cool night air and whatever bugs might be flying around.

  Then I catch a faint waft of citronella and realize they’ve put bug-repelling candles around. I’m instantly grateful. I’m the kind of person who always gets eaten alive, but now I can relax and enjoy myself.

  The waiter steps forward to pull out my chair, but suddenly cringes and backs away. I look around just in time to see a ferocious glare on Max’s face before he relaxes and pulls my chair out for me. I can’t help giggling and sit, then shiver as his breath brushes my ear.

  “I refuse to let any other man this close to you.”

  He sits down opposite me, and the waiter waits for his signal before approaching with wine. Once our glasses are full, he backs away.

  “Honestly, Max, the poor man’s terrified. Possessive much?”

  Something about the look on his face makes my pussy quiver, moisture pooling between my thighs, and I swallow and rub them together, trying to ease the growing ache between them.

  He doesn’t say anything, and I decide to shut my mouth. I’m not helping the situation. Besides, I’m starving, and the food smells luscious.

  Forty minutes later, I sit back in my chair, sighing happily. “That was amazing. How did you get them to do this?”

  The corner of his mouth curves upwards. “It wasn’t hard. It’s a known private dining space. I asked if it was booked, they said no.”

  He shrugs, like it was nothing, but it doesn’t feel like nothing.

  I look around at the candles, the sky above, the cool night breeze teasing my hair. It reminds me of happier times.

  “Do tell,” says Max, and I realize I spoke out loud.

  I don’t intend to tell him much, but once I start talking, I can’t stop.

  “You know how most kids have their birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese or wherever? My dad always used to insist we celebrate my birthdays at home. We’d all be in the garden, and he’d string up lights and bunting and get us all sparklers. My birthday’s in October, so it usually got dark about halfway through, so we’d have torches and play Hide And Go Seek and tell scary stories around a bonfire.” I smile at the memory and sip my wine. It’s nice to remember the good times with my dad. I’d almost forgotten there were any. “It always seemed like a lot of work, though, and I’d always say I was happy to have a party somewhere else if he didn’t want to go to all that trouble. And every time he would just say that nature was way more beautiful than the inside of any building, and it was a pity to waste it.”

  I swallow, remembering how I’d been planning to come home from college for my birthday, because Dad had insisted I be home for it, just like I always used to be. And then he was the one who wasn’t there.

  “He gave me this pen,” I tell Max, reaching into my purse and pulling out the blue glass pen I use every day for work. “I nearly threw it out after he left, but I couldn’t find it. Eventually, I forgave him, and then the pen just showed up one day. Now I’m glad I have it. It’s all I have left of him. In the end, everything else had to be sold.”

  The scrape of a chair snaps me back to the present moment, and I watch Max stand and walk around the table, holding out his hand. I take it, wondering what’s happening, then gasp in surprise as he pulls me into his arms and starts moving to the music floating across the empty terrace.

  “Relax, Shay. This is meant to be fun, remember?”

  His face is so close, and because of our height difference, I have to tip my head back to see his eyes. Being here, in his arms, it feels like a world away from the fear and insecurity that have surrounded me since my dad left. I never realized how much we relied on him for stability, me and my mom, until he wasn’t there anymore. Maybe if I’d been more appreciative—

  “Stop that.”

  I frown up at Max. “Stop what?” Is he a mind reader?

  “Whatever you were thinking about. This isn’t the place for unhappy memories. This is a new memory. A good one, I hope.”

  I smile and relax, giving myself over to the movement of his body and the firm embrace of his arms. “Very good ones,” I murmur.

  A faint click echoes somewhere behind me, and when I look around, I see the waiter has gone. I look up at Max. I know what he wants. I want the same thing. But right now, I'm content to just move to the music, safe against his chest, his firm grip leading me where I need to go.

  The music ends, and I move to step back, but instead, he pulls me in closer, his hands sliding up my arms, over my shoulders and into my hair, cupping my jaw, angling my head. My lips part in anticipation of his kiss, but he merely stands there, watching me. I lick my lips, starting to get nervous under his unwavering stare.

  “What?” I whisper, finally, when I can’t take the suspense anymore.

  He shakes his head. “You’re perfect. I’m so glad I found you.”

  And then his head descends, and his mouth covers mine, warm and firm and demanding.

  Heat unfurls inside me, lapping lazily at my skin, slithering down my spine to coil in my belly. I moan, leaning into him, and he pulls me closer, his tongue sliding between my lips to dominate my mouth. I cling to him, my hands clutching at his arms, his shoulders, before finally wrapping around the back of his neck and hanging on tight, my anchor in the storm he’s unleashing inside me.

  He walks me backwards. I try to look where I’m going, but he refuses to break the kiss, his hands imprisoning me so that I have no option but to trust him, that he won’t let me trip, let me fall.

  That he won’t let go.

  A door opens and closes, and the night breeze is cut off. Then a soft rush of air envelops me, and he allows me to lift my head and look around.

  We’re in a huge apartment, tastefully decorated in pale blues and greys, a relaxing color scheme enhanced with the occasional pop of red or purple. In front of me is a vast lounge, with a kitchen on the far side separated from the lounge by an enormous island, complete with stove, double sink, and breakfast bar.

  “Wow.”

  “Now look to your right,” he murmurs in my ear, and I shiver at his hot breath on my sensitive skin. The shiver goes right down my spine, making my pussy quiver, and it takes all my strength to do as I’m told and look to my right.

  The biggest bed I’ve ever seen stands there, at least seven feet across. The sheets are a rich dark red, but I’m grateful to notice they’re not satin. It would look too much like a bordello, or at least, my idea of a bordello, not that I’ve ever been in one.

  Then I realize what’s about to happen, and I tremble for a different reason. I swallow, licking lips suddenly gone dry, and freeze. What do I do? I have no idea how to act in this situation, and this isn’t even a normal situation. At least, I’m assuming most people don’t hook up with their boss.

  Oh shit, he’s my boss. What am I thinking? I shouldn’t even be considering this—

  “You’re thinking too hard,” he says, snapping me out of my whirling thoughts and making me jump. He eases my jacket off my shoulders, and I hesitate, then let it go. I mean, we’ve come this far, I kind of have to go ahead with it, right?

  Liar, says the little voice deep inside. You know you want this. Stop lying to yourself.

  I hang my head, just a little, then jump again as two cool fingers slide under my chin, lifting my head so that our eyes meet.

  “What’s going on inside that busy head, Shay? We don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “We don’t?” I stare up at him. “Then why...” It seems like a stupid question to ask why he brought me here, when there’s this huge bed right there, but still. I’m confused.

  His jaw clenches. “You need to associate with a higher class of individual,” he says, his voice rough with anger. “We’re here because I want you, and I’m a hundred and ten percent sure you want me, but we’re not going to do a damn thing until you’re ready to do it. And that’s because you are now associating with a higher class of individual. Congratulations.”

  A startled laugh bursts from my mouth, and his eyes are drawn immediately to my lips, making me lick them again with nerves.

  “The thing is…” God, how do I say this? It’s ridiculous, surely. A twenty-four-year-old virgin? How is that even possible? I look up at him and see no judgment, no frustration that I’m making him wait. If anything, he seems content just to watch me, just to be near me, one hand at my waist, his palm burning me through my shirt, the other at my throat, stroking my pulse with his thumb, making me shiver.

  “The thing is?” he prompts.

  “Right.” I take a deep breath. “I’m a virgin.”

  His eyes widen for a moment, and I’m sure I’ve blown it. What man this powerful, this experienced, would want someone who didn’t know the first thing about sex? I look away, tears pricking at my eyes. Not good enough. Once again, I’m not good enough.

  Then his hand tightens, just a little around my throat, and I can’t stop the bolt of lust which shoots through me, straight to my pussy, lighting it on fire. My eyes jerk up to meet his, and the heat I see there makes me realize I’ve got it all wrong.

  His hand slides further around my waist, drawing me closer to him. He turns and presses me against the wall, his hard, solid muscle imprinting itself on my soft curves so that I can feel every inch of him, including all the very hard inches below his waist, pressing into my belly.

  I twist against him as tension gathers between my thighs, my head falling back against the wall as his lips skate over my throat. Then he nips at my skin, and I yelp, gasping as the pain sends electricity into my blood, making me burn with need.

  “Do you want me to be your first?” He murmurs in my ear, his voice rough as freshly laid concrete. “Do you want me in you, making you scream with pleasure, giving you your first orgasms on a man’s cock?”

  “Oh God, yes,” I gasp, barely able to speak through the images his words send cascading through my mind.

  “Look at me, Shay,” he orders, lifting his head, and I moan at the loss of the heat of his lips, the delicious friction of his tongue and teeth. “Look at me and tell me you want me, you want this.”

  I lever my eyes open and stare at him. His hair is a mess where I’ve been running my hands through it without even realizing. His eyes are wild, and yet there’s a stillness about him. He’s truly waiting for me to say stop or go. All this time, I thought he was the one with the power, and now I suddenly realize, it was in my hands all along.

  “I want you,” I tell him. “I want this, with you.” Forever, adds the little voice inside, and I bite my tongue before it slips out. It’s only been a few days. It’s too soon for that kind of thinking.

  Is it? asks that little voice.

 

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