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"Nick," I groan.
He thrusts into me, his grip tight around my hips as he holds me in place. I relax my thighs and wrists, soaking in every ounce of sensation, in every ounce of his control.
"Nick."
He goes harder. Deeper. I lose track of everything except the pleasure coursing through me.
"Nick."
His breath gets faster. His eyes press together. He's getting there.
"Nick."
A few more thrusts and an orgasm rises up inside me. No screaming. Nothing to contain it. Nothing to do but feel.
The pressure is almost too much to take. I only manage by biting my tongue. With his next thrust, I go over the edge. My sex pulses, releasing as I come. Bliss spreads through my torso and limbs. It's better looking into his eyes, seeing the relief there.
He does need this. Need me.
I collapse into his arms. He holds me for a moment, his lips meeting mine in a desperate, needy kiss. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, exploring it like I'll never get another chance to kiss him.
He scratches me so hard I'm sure I'm bleeding. I groan into his mouth to contain the burst of pain. That's how good he feels. How desperate he is to contain himself.
I can feel his orgasm in the movements of his body. The way his tongue claims my mouth. The way his nails dig into my skin. The way he thrusts faster and harder.
Then I can feel him, pulsing inside me, filling me. It's the first time I've ever had sex without a condom, and it's fucking amazing.
When he's finished, Nick undoes the binding. He shifts so I'm next to him on the couch. He rubs my wrists. Then he drags his fingers over my hips, inspecting my deep, red scratch marks.
"Come here." He pulls me into his lap, holding me against him and stroking my hair.
God, he feels good like this too. I allow myself a few minutes with my eyes closed and my head pressed against his chest.
My breath and heartbeat return to normal.
I shift off him, onto the other side of the couch. "What are the odds that no one heard us?"
"Not as good as I'd like."
"Was it worth it?"
His gaze goes to the floor. "It won't matter soon." He shifts back into his boxers and slacks. Then he pulls a towel from his desk drawer and hands it to me. "To clean up."
"Oh, yeah. It's a lot messier without a condom."
I wipe off and put my clothes back into position. Even without a mirror, I can tell that I'm not fooling anyone.
My hair is a mess. My makeup is smeared. My neck is throbbing like I have an impending hickey.
Maybe it doesn't matter. It will be easier for us to be together, whatever this is, if the company sells. It's not the end of the world. Even if there's a deep well of pain in his eyes.
I do one last adjustment of my clothes and reach for the door.
Nick stops me. His gaze goes to the clock on the wall. "Our delivery should be at Jasmine's desk."
"Is waiting for you to finish lunchtime quickies another part of her job description?"
"Maybe I'll add it." He smiles. "I'll get it. You look like you just got fucked."
"Wonder why."
"It looks good on you." He pulls open the door.
"I'm going to do some damage control in the bathroom."
He nods. Either he's ready to take our relationship public or he really believes his company is doomed.
God, I hope it's the first.
The women's bathroom is a respite from all the questions swirling around my brain. I have one task and that's looking like I didn't just have sex on the couch in Nick's office. Only my glasses are still on his desk. I can manage okay without them.
I wash my hands, fix my hair and makeup, change back into my bra and underwear. It's about twenty percent better. Not going to fool anyone who's paying attention, but the people around here don't pay much attention.
Nick is waiting outside the bathroom holding a plastic takeout bag in one hand and my glasses in the other.
He slides my glasses on with a soft touch. It's affectionate in a way obvious to anyone looking at us. No one is looking at us, but this isn't like him. He doesn't take unnecessary risks.
He presses his hand against my lower back. "Let's eat this in the conference room."
I nod and follow him to the glass-walled conference room. Anyone who walks by this side of the building can see us.
He passes me a Diet Coke and sets up the plates. It's Thai food again, curry. It smells good.
I stir hot sauce into my green curry. "Thank you."
"Of course." His eyes meet mine. "I want to take you somewhere tomorrow."
"Where?"
"It's a surprise."
"Can I have a clue?"
He shakes his head.
"Doesn't sound like there's any reason why I should agree."
"I'll pick you up at 8 AM."
"How do you know I'll go with you?"
"I know."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nick is at my door at exactly 8 AM.
I invite him in while I finish getting dressed, making a show of pulling on the lacy purple lingerie set.
He sits at my desk chair with his eyes wide and his lips zipped.
"Are you really going to deprive me of clues?" I check the weather on my phone—forties and sunny—and pull on a pair of comfortable canvas sneakers.
"Really." He stands and hands me my coffee.
Once we're on the street, Nick points to a food cart. "Did you eat breakfast?"
I shake my head.
We order egg sandwiches and another round of coffee. There's still something incredibly endearing about seeing Nick in normal clothes. Or seeing him do normal things.
He's every bit as handsome in jeans and a fitted t-shirt.
And every bit as effortlessly in control.
It really isn't fair.
I finish the sandwich by the time we get to the subway. We're heading towards Queens. I look to Nick for a clue, but he's silent.
We spend the ride in plastic seats, my head on his chest, his arm around my waist. We get off way into Queens.
I squeeze his hand as he leads me out of the station and onto the street. We walk for ten minutes, stopping in front of a massive building. It's the entrance to some kind of arena. But it's totally empty.
I squint so I have a better view.
It's a racetrack.
I pull my hand to my side.
No.
No fucking way.
"Lizzy." He grabs my wrist, turning my body towards his. "Think about it before you run away."
"What the fuck is this supposed to be?"
"A safe way to try driving."
"Safe? Have you ever seen a NASCAR race? People crash into the wall at a hundred miles per hour. Their cars burst into flames. I've seen all the clips on YouTube, and I'm not going to die in a fucking explosion."
"You won't be going a hundred miles per hour."
"No." I step backwards until I feel the curb under my heel.
"Look at it for one minute. If you want to leave, we'll leave."
I meet his gaze. It's sincere. Caring. But he... But this...
I can't breathe. I can't think.
I shake my head.
Nick moves closer. He wraps his arms around me.
It's calming.
Fuck him for that.
For all of this.
I inhale everything about him. "Why are you trying to fix me? I live in the city. I don't need to drive."
"You're not broken. I can't fix you." He pulls me closer. "This weighs on you. I don't want you to live with that burden."
"You have a lot of fucking nerve throwing this at me without a warning."
"You wouldn't have come if you knew what we were doing."
"Because I don't want to do it." I release the hug and look into his eyes. "Why can't you surprise me with a weekend in the Caribbean or something?"
"You want to go to the Caribbean, we'll go to the
Caribbean."
"Really?"
"It will be a few weeks before I can get away, but really."
"Okay." I nod. "We'll go after Kat's wedding. Did you... there are going to be a lot of people who follow tech swirling around to take pictures. I know you still want to keep this a secret. But... you could come with me. As my date."
"I'd love to." His voice is soft, sweet.
I look into his eyes. They're sincere. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
I beam. Nick is going to be my wedding date. It's damn normal.
It's not enough to distract me from the horrible possibility of circling a track like a suicidal NASCAR driver, but it is nice.
Really nice.
Even if he's a fucking asshole for this.
I suck a breath through my teeth.
We're so far from casual. Even without a label, I know he's mine, and I'm his. That anything else would be madness.
"Kat will ask if you're my boyfriend," I say.
"You want to make this official?"
"I do."
He smiles. "Then it's official."
