Page 18 of The Cost of Love

I know that it will play out that way when we do this again.

His boner presses into my belly, reminding me that he has yet to be touched. I rub my hand down his stomach to his belted pants. As I start to undo the buckle, he stops me.

“Not tonight,” he says with that same sureness that drove this entire experience.

“But what about you?”

“Our time together isn’t about me.” The wet feel of his mouth on mine is a reminder of what just happened, driving this point home.

He pulls my hand back up to rest on his chest.

“I’ve got mouth skills too,” I say into his shoulder.

“I don’t doubt that. I would love to feel your plush lips wrapped around my dick. That time will come, but it’s not yet.”

I look into his eyes to see that he is staring at me intently. His irises are clouded with desire, making his pupils look dilated. Despite the fact that nothing happened for him, I can tell he got off on that.

“You might be a sex god.” I feel like I need to praise him ten times over to make up for what he just did.

“I can only imagine what you will think of me when I fuck you.” The left side of his mouth quirks up in a smirk.

“I think it will only confirm my suspicions,” I say, laughing.

He strokes a hand down my hair and kisses me once more, gently. I know I should probably get up and leave, but part of me doesn’t want to.

“Are you staying the night?” he asks, having read my mind.

If all I want from him is just sex, then I can’t blur the lines. With my luck, he will make me orgasm so much that I will fall in love with him. I don’t need the image of him in the morning when he wakes up cuddled next to me. I can’t learn how he takes his coffee, or if he snores.

“No, I should go.” I regret the words even as I speak them.

“Okay, I’ll call a car.” He gets up, and the loss of his warmth has me feeling exposed.

Pulling down my dress, I grab my panties from the floor. By the time he comes back in, I feel like I have put myself to rights and am ready to face the rest of the world.

The walk back to the front feels shorter than the one it took to get to his room, and soon he has me pressed against the door. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth before he plants a heavy kiss on me. It has all his desires and wants wrapped into it, with a touch of hesitation. The car is already downstairs, and I know I have to go, but it’s clear he doesn’t want me to. I let him kiss me and keep me locked here for a while, until the second call from the car service comes.

“Thank you for tonight, Alexander.”

“Call me Alex,” he says against my lips.

I push in for another kiss, lost in the intimacy of that offer. It’s an effort when I have to pull away from him.

He walks me down and places me in the car, giving me one last kiss.

“Call me,” he says.

I promise before closing the door. The whole way home, I fight not to explode with joy.

Chapter 9

Alex

Henry Whitmore, the second son of a Duke, established the Whitmore company in 1856. Before that, he worked on whatever ship would take him, bringing goods to and from different ports of the world. That is how he learned the way of the trade, and determined how to do it better. With a dream and a loan, he turned that idea into an empire. A legacy he could pass down to his son, and their son after that, and so on. Today, as I step into the office, I take up that mantle. I don’t want it. Yet I owe it to everyone who came before me to do right by it.

People can’t help but stare at me as I walk past their cubicles on the way to my father’s office. It would be wise to smile and put them at ease, but I am a man on a mission. I need to figure out how I’m going to approach this board meeting that I have in two hours. It is my job to convince them that I am good enough to be the CEO.

First, I need to convince myself of this.