The x ingredient, p.20
The X Ingredient, page 20
Not today. I close my eyes to distract myself from the sight of Diana in ecstasy and ruthlessly quiet the ache between my own legs. Hell, I’m clenching, too. It’d take nothing to get me there.
Nothing’s what I’m going to get. That was my own rule, after all, and I set it for a reason. Diana unleashed would be too much to handle. She slumps against the rug, looking insensate, and for a wild second, I think I might just rub over my skirt and get myself off here and now. Maybe she wouldn’t notice, and I could take some relief.
She moans as she quivers to a stop. “No more…”
Damn. I could do this all night. I have a feeling if I just crooked my fingers again, I’d get her there a fourth time. She’s so responsive, her body all alive to my slightest touch. I’ve never been so in sync with a lover before.
No, not a lover, I tell myself at once. Don’t make that mistake again.
She struggles to sit up on her elbows. I look between her thighs and inhale at the sight of her pink flesh, swollen and tender from my attentions. I’m already ready to taste it again. I ask, “You okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
Fine? I can’t believe she said that again. Can’t let her see how much it stings. “Glad to hear it.”
It could be my imagination, but she seems to flinch. Did I sound like I was gloating? I didn’t mean to do that. There’s a fine line between being in control and being obnoxious about it, and I won’t cross it. I search frantically for something to say.
What comes out is, “You did well.”
Diana blinks at me, her dark eyes still glazed, her cheeks still pink. “How generous of you.” The rasp in her voice belies the sharp words.
“I’d say so.” I barely manage not to growl. How dare she be high-handed now, when I practically made her come until she passed out? “I’d say that was pretty generous, yeah.”
“More than I deserved, no doubt.” Diana casts her gaze to where her pants lie crumpled on the floor, and where her thong rests not much farther off.
I fight not to gulp when I remember how it felt to watch her strip for me. It had been all I could do not to pounce on her when I watched her clothes slowly coming off.
“And now?”
Did I imagine she said that? I stare at her profile, turned away from me now, noble even under these circumstances. She has such a serious face, like it doesn’t know how to be anything else. Has she ever had fun in her life?
Also, did she really just ask me what happens next?
Apparently so, because now she looks like she regrets it and trips over herself to take it back. “Never mind. I didn’t…” She passes one trembling hand over her forehead and slides a lock of damp black hair from her brow. “I don’t…”
I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t have to say it out loud. She must be scared stiff. There can’t have been many times in her life when Diana Parker didn’t know what to do. Add to that a healthy dose of lesbian panic, and she must be seriously freaked out.
Not that she’d ever admit to the lesbian part. It’s a dick move to label her when she won’t do it herself, but if I’m wrong, I’ll drink a bottle of Kayla’s purple nail polish.
Kayla. Oh God. What would she say if—
No. Don’t think about that now. To get myself a few moments of breathing room, I fetch Diana’s panties. She really does wear thongs, huh? That explains something about her attitude. I’d be snooty, too, if I walked around all day with something literally up my ass.
As I hand Diana the panties, our fingers brush. My skin seems to crackle with electricity.
I wonder what she’d do if she knew I ache for her touch, too. Wouldn’t it be incredible to feel those long, slender fingers inside me, stroking me? They’d be unskilled, unpracticed, but I bet Diana’s a quick study.
She stands, which means I’m sitting at her feet like some kind of supplicant. Oh hell, that won’t do. I shake my head and stand up. Then I sway, trying not to feel dizzy. When was the last time I ate? I blush and try not to look between Diana’s legs again.
“Stop looking at me,” she mumbles.
I blink. “Why do I have to stop looking at you?”
“Like that. You have to stop looking at me like that. Give me my pants!”
I don’t know why that’s so funny, but I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing before retrieving her pants. The lightweight wool feels luxurious under my fingers. She snatches them from me, and this time she makes sure our hands don’t touch.
I don’t pretend ignorance, don’t ask her look at you like what? “I enjoy looking at you like that.” When she blushes again and stares down at the pants in her hands, I can’t help adding, “You look good. I like looking. What does it feel like when I do?”
God. I’ve never been a selfish lover, but I’ve never been this into knowing what my partner’s reactions were from start to finish either. I want to know what was going through Diana’s mind every second of our encounter, and I have a feeling that getting her to tell me will be like pulling teeth. What did she like? Was there anything she didn’t? Was there anything she wants me to do again and again?
My fingers sure were a hit. I fight the urge to sniff them and drown in her perfume all over again.
“Can’t you leave me be?” Diana’s shamed whisper snuffs out my arousal. “Isn’t my weakness enough for you?”
“Weakness?” I must have imagined that. Diana Parker can’t just have admitted out loud to being weak, especially not for me.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. Why are you rubbing it in my face that I can’t resist you?”
She’s still not meeting my eyes. She’s still flushed. She must have hated admitting that out loud. Mustn’t she?
Unless she loved it instead. She didn’t have to say it, after all. Maybe she hated and loved saying it all at the same time. She’s also not putting her pants back on. Hoping for more?
Just taking the edge off. She’s right—that was how I put it, making it sound like it didn’t mean anything more. Just getting right down to business with no niceties, not even kisses.
Suddenly, my mouth wants more than the memory of her sex. It wants what it had in the elevator yesterday, her own lips hot and hungry against mine. A real kiss. With her hands in my hair again while I hold her slim waist.
No. Kisses aren’t for the kind of thing we’ve been doing. Kisses are for something else, something more intimate and tender. Something that could break my heart into a thousand pieces. Besides, I can’t imagine Diana wants it, not after how I shoved her away in the elevator. She’s never indicated she wanted it since.
“I can’t resist you either,” I blurt out.
She looks at me with wide eyes. I suck in my breath with a hiss. Fucking brilliant.
“Can’t you?” she asks, and it’s beyond me how she can sound lofty while she’s clutching her pants to her chest.
“Um—” I shift back and forth on my feet. I must not look very commanding right now. “It sure looks that way.”
Diana slides on her underwear and pants, tucks in her blouse, and zips up without a word while I wait on tenterhooks. “Is that so? Then I hope you understand discretion. I’m getting divorced.” She stalks past me, bending down toward where her belt coils on the floor. She’d tossed it through the air with such abandon, her body opening and coming alive before my eyes. Now she’s curled up as tightly in herself as that strip of leather. “I can’t miss a step.” She darts me a sudden, suspicious look. Horribly, I intuit what she’s about to say before she says it. “Unless this is some kind of plan to ruin me?”
If not for the quivering note in her voice, that’d make me turn around and march out, never to come back, no matter how much I want her. As it is, I can hear her vulnerability. It might be even more intense than when she was moaning because of my touch. My betrayal would hurt her so much she can’t help saying so.
Too intense, my inner voice says. This sounds like more than sex. But that can’t be right, so I shush it. Of course Diana’s worrying about how this would look for her divorce if it came out.
So to speak.
“No plan,” I say. This seems like a good time to start adjusting my own clothing. I straighten my skirt and button up my blouse. Pat down my hair. “You think this would do my reputation any good? You know what I want.”
“A law career.” She slides the belt through the loops on her pants. The armor’s almost back on, not a stitch out of place, but anybody who happened to walk in would know what we’ve been doing. She’s still flushed, still a little out of breath, and it’s so danged appealing. “An environmental purist, no less.”
I roll my eyes even though she’s not looking. “Yeah, and being your” —her what?— “uh, whatever, wouldn’t exactly make me look like a career woman. I’m not gonna talk.”
She looks at me with narrow eyes and slides one foot into a stiletto. “Do you know how foolish you sound? I could exploit you. I did—in the elevator. That started all this. Don’t let me off the hook.”
I bet Diana’s never let herself off the hook for anything. She seems to hold herself as accountable as she holds everyone else. “Yeah, you started it. But here we are, and I’ll be the one to finish it.”
She shakes her head. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Diana—”
She holds up her hand. “I can’t talk about this right now. You need to go home, and so do… I mean, I need to go back to the hotel. You’ll make my moving arrangements tomorrow?”
She’s never made one of her orders sound like a request before. That’s all that stops me from snapping at her. She’s retreating, hiding her head in the sand, and it’s pissing me off.
I take a deep breath. “Sure. Fine. Tomorrow.” Thankfully, my voice is even, not at all that of a woman who wants to tear out her own hair. I’m probably going to dream about her touching me in return and just be more frustrated than ever when I wake up. “And if you’re feeling the urge, we can follow up on our other…arrangement…too.”
Diana grabs at her throat, spins on her heel, and begins busying herself with the papers on her desk. They’re all stacked in the neatest piles I’ve ever seen in anybody’s office. “Go,” she chokes.
My heart races. She can’t be changing her mind. Not after that. “We will, won’t we? We’ll both want—”
“Just go!”
That’s that. I can’t argue with it. I lift my chin. “Okay. I’m going.”
“And tomorrow—” She doesn’t turn around as she opens a folder. I doubt she’s really seeing anything written on the paper. “Tomorrow, we get back to work.”
I could go to her. The temptation is nearly unbearable. I could go to her, put my hand on her lower back, and her layers of clothes would feel like nothing. I could turn her around, lean in, and kiss and kiss her while she…
“Work,” I rasp. I’m going to need a nice long shower when I get home and to bite back my moans while I get myself off. “Sure thing, Diana.”
And I leave, taking my bag on the way out of the door.
I should be thinking about all the stuff I’ve got to do tomorrow. I usually am when I go home, unable to turn off my work brain. Tonight, my lust brain is taking over. I wish I was going to Diana’s hotel instead, where we could spend the whole night doing what we both want to do so much.
In fact, I’m so distracted that I nearly run into Eileen in the hallway.
I stumble to a stop as she exits her office. Oh shit. Wasn’t she packing to leave? My mind races even as my body freezes in place. Would she have been able to hear anything?
No. Diana’s office is too far away, and we had both sets of doors closed. Nobody screamed or anything. Though it got pretty close a couple of times.
Eileen glances over. I must look normal, because she doesn’t look shocked. She just raises her eyebrows. “Going home?”
“Um. Yes, ma’am.” I heft my bag on my shoulder, like a good young professional, and try to radiate innocence.
“Long day, huh?”
I laugh feebly. “Aren’t they all?”
“Hmm.” She turns to look down the darkened hallway that leads to the exit. “You could say that. Wanna head to the garage with me? It’s safer not to be alone.”
Yeah, safer. Tonight’s definitely about safety and being sensible. “That sounds good. Thanks.”
“And no need to call me ‘ma’am.’ I’m not Diana.” She doesn’t look at me.
“Er…okay.” Her shoulders are set so straight. I can’t see her face, but I’m betting it’s not a happy one, not after how Diana reamed her out earlier. I wonder what she’d say if she knew that Diana hates being called ma’am.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she says as if she knows what I’m thinking. “I’ve worked for this firm for two years, and nothing like that’s ever happened to me. Or anywhere else I’ve been. Kasim invited me here, you know. Said it was a great opportunity. I didn’t know I was stepping into a viper pit.”
“Uh…” What am I supposed to say to that?
We reach the glass doors leading to the main entrance of the office. Eileen opens one of them. “After you. Is it true she’s getting divorced?”
I set my jaw as I walk through the door and wonder who blabbed. Maybe Kasim, if they’re all buddy-buddy. “I really can’t talk about Ms. Parker’s personal life.”
“That’s a yes, then.” Eileen’s tone is drier than a hay bale in the heat of summer. “We’re all in for a fun time, aren’t we?”
Jeez. Diana was a little harsh on Eileen, sure, but that didn’t mean Eileen wasn’t fucking up. Jenny Kayce had been mad at her, too. And yet, part of Diana’s ire had surely come from what we’d been doing earlier in the apartment. What she must have anticipated we’d do again as soon as her office doors were closed.
That makes me feel guilty enough to say, “Um, I’m sorry. About what happened back there.”
Eileen leads the way to the elevators. “Why? Was it your fault or something?”
She obviously means that question to be rhetorical, but my stomach writhes nevertheless. “I’m just sorry it was so… Never mind.”
Eileen doesn’t look at me as she pushes the button for the elevator. It lights up green, and I hear a humming noise. The next car must be close by. Good.
She says, “Don’t worry about it. People like that make their own beds. It’s only a matter of time before they have to lie in them.”
Suddenly, I’m imagining the giant bed in Diana’s hotel room. It’s way too big for one person, but it’s the perfect size for us to lie in a tangle of sweaty, naked limbs after satisfying each other.
The elevator door opens. I gulp and follow Eileen inside, hoping I can get my imagination under control.
Even if my libido’s a lost cause, thanks to my latest big idea. My arrangement.
Chapter 20
Diana
11:46 p.m.
An arrangement.
The words circle in my head as I return to my hotel, shower, put on my pajamas, and stare at the ceiling.
What the hell was I thinking? What possessed me to agree to such a thing? I must be losing my mind.
I should be thinking about my divorce. My failure. Starting over in my forties when I was supposed to have it all figured out. Whether or not I’ll ever be able to find a man who completes me in the way I need—
No, that’s not the way to think of it. I don’t need anyone else to “complete” me. Not a man, and certainly not a girl who puts a tinge of pink in her hair and has the traces of me still on her tongue.
I shouldn’t think of that. Think about my divorce. My law practice. My parents. The chipped polish on my left middle toe. Anything but…
An arrangement.
I’m a lawyer. She wants to be one. We both know about arrangements, rules, and guidelines. It hardly sounds like an act of spontaneous passion, which is how we’ve been going about things so far.
“So far,” because we’ve made an arrangement to go further.
Stop! I groan, roll over, and bury my face in my pillow. These high-thread-count sheets are very nice. When my furniture is moved, I’ll have to tell Laurie to order me some—
Stop, stop, stop.
Yes. Stop. I should do that. I should walk back this whole disastrous deal.
“We will, won’t we?” she’d asked, her own desire naked and on display as if she wasn’t ashamed of it. As if it was normal for her. Well, of course it is. She’s a lesbian. I’m not. Definitely not.
I glance toward my nightstand, where there rests a glossy copy of Atlanta, the sort of magazine all hotel rooms have—a publication meant to show off the city. The cover shows a glamorous woman and a man in a tuxedo. The woman wears a low-cut dress that is apparently the work of a local designer. Her skin glows, her hair is a glorious tumble, and her lips are lush. She’s…gorgeous.
Obviously I notice all that. I’ve noticed that sort of thing all my life—lips, hair, low-cut dresses. Those things are there to be noticed. I’m an extremely observant person. It doesn’t mean anything. At all.
I flip the magazine over to the back cover. The High Museum’s advertisement of their Vermeer exhibit is much less distracting. Then I roll over on my side and take in the glittering view of the city through my window.
I’ll have a similar view from my new apartment. The one Laurie selected for me.
I can feel her tongue between my thighs all over again. And then the expert press of her fingers, filling me up. She’d played me like a violin. We’d had only one previous encounter, and somehow that was enough for her to know how to thrill me from head to foot.
An arrangement.
