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It was a lot of work, but between my excellent grades, volunteer hours, and the two prestigious internships, by the time I graduated college I had one hell of a resume. Which was why I was able to so easily wiggle my way into the male-dominated field of yacht brokerage.
That heartbreak fueled me, and my career had become my significant other. I was married to the job, and although sometimes it did get lonely, for the most part I was content. Until now. Until Bruin Kincaid came sauntering back into the picture, looking hotter than ever before. I blew past poor Miguel, who looked pale and concerned, probably at the look on my face. It had to be a major pain in the ass to work for Bruin. The whole staff were probably on pins and needles at all times. Bruin was reckless. Wild. He did what he wanted when he wanted, and with his family’s immense fortune behind him, there were few limits. He could buy whatever he pleased, and buy his way out of whatever trouble he landed in. He had a built-in ‘get out of jail free’ card. He could just write a ridiculous check and stroll out of any situation like it was nothing. He was not used to being turned for anything, and I couldn’t help but wonder how he was feeling about the fact that I’d just run out on him.
As I walked briskly down the docks, I whipped out my cell phone and called for my chauffeur to come pick me up as soon as possible. I waited for a few minutes, nervously glancing back toward the docks like I expected Bruin to come stalking after me at any moment. Part of me hoped he would. I wanted him. And I knew he knew it. But I also knew that if I gave in to him this way, I’d be a goner. He’d have me totally hooked, hanging on his every word, his every move. Just like when I was a love-struck, hormonal teenager.
The big black Benz finally pulled up to the curb and I all but jumped into the back seat, telling the driver to hurry. I wanted nothing more than to lock myself into my comfy hotel suite and be alone wi
th my thoughts for the night. I needed to think this shit over and figure out what my next move would be. As the car rolled on down the road to the hotel, several worries poked their heads up.
What if this compromised the sale?
What if word got out that I had behaved unprofessionally with a client? Especially since most of my clients were men. Married men. I already had to deal with the dirty, suspicious looks some of the wives gave me when I went out for business dinners with their husbands. Obviously, I had never, ever even considered doing anything untoward. I was a professional, through and through, and I was not about to put my career in jeopardy for a fling with some paunchy, grouchy, middle-aged millionaire.
But Bruin was not a paunchy, grouchy, middle-aged millionaire.
He was a sexy, snarky, thirty-year-old billionaire. He was drop-dead gorgeous and I could tell just from the way he kissed me that he knew exactly how to work a woman’s body. Exactly how to play me like an instrument. He had certainly gotten a lot of practice. Bruin had been a player all his life. Jeff used to tell me all the time about how Bruin was bringing home a different girl every night in college, then kicking them out the next morning so he could move on to another unsuspecting target. That alone should have made me less intrigued by him. He was a womanizer, a serial love ‘em and leave ‘em type. But God, nothing I could tell myself made me any less fascinated by him. Turned on by him.
Except for one thing.
If Jeff found out that anything had happened between us, there’d be hell to pay. From both of us. Jeff looked after me like a personal bodyguard, constantly reassuring me that if anyone ever messed with me, he wouldn’t hesitate to make them regret it. Luckily, I knew how to compose myself, how to behave in such a way that my clients usually treated me with respect. I dressed conservatively, kept the conversations rigidly focused on business. I never shared personal information. Apart from a firm, no-nonsense handshake, I never even made any sort of physical contact with my clients. They knew not to try me.
Well, most of them did. There had been exactly three occasions in which a client tried to hit on me or insinuate something unprofessional. Once, when I was still in my first few months of the job, I had a client from France who asked me to meet him at a bar down the street from the docks. Being young and naive and eager to make the sale, I agreed. After all, my male colleagues were constantly going out to bars and posh clubs with their clients to schmooze. Why couldn’t I do the same? So I met him there and did my best to talk business. I spoke Spanish and French fluently, so I was more than capable of holding my own. But the man chose to speak English, apparently not aware that I could perfectly understand French. I had thought the meeting was going well at first. He bought us a few rounds of drinks and I was feeling buzzed but in the zone. The client seemed very interested in what I was selling.
Until he took a phone call from a friend right at the table in French. He blatantly told his friend on the phone that I was young and pretty and that after a few more drinks at the bar I would be more than willing to fuck him. Naturally, I could understand every word he said, so I stood up and walked out of the bar without so much as a word. The man ran after me but I turned and told him off in French. Later that night, Jeff called the guy and warned him that if he ever even so much as breathed in my direction again, Jeff would cut his balls off.
I never heard from the guy again. And the other two times weren’t as bad. Just touchy-feely clients who kept stroking my hand or putting their arms around me. I backed away quickly and rerouted the conversation back to business. I kept my cool and made the sales, even though I felt so grossed out by them. That was the job. And I was damn good at it, too.
But with Bruin, it was totally different. This was a guy I did want to sleep with. I had wanted that for years and years. And now to find out that he seemed to want the same thing? Well, it was going to be one hell of a rollercoaster trying to stick to business.
When I got back to my hotel room, I ordered a sandwich and a dry martini from room service, then stripped down and got into a hot bubble bath. I needed to melt the day away. I had ignored several calls from Jeff, and I knew eventually I would have to call him back and reassure him that everything was okay, but not right now.
I was only about thirty minutes into my bath when there was a knock at my hotel room door. I sat up and looked around, confused. The clock on my phone said 8:37 p.m. Who the hell would be here this late?
I figured it was a maid or someone bringing me more towels. Or perhaps room service had the wrong door number.
I called out, “No thank you.”
But there was no reply. Just another hard knock at the door. Annoyed, I got out of the bath, quickly toweled off, and put on a silky robe to go answer the door. I opened it just a crack and the person on the other side shoved the door wide open, barging into the room before I could say a single word. He quickly shut the door behind him and grabbed my face, kissing me.
It was Bruin.
There was fire flashing in his beautiful blue eyes, his strong arms wrapping around me, holding me captive while he kissed me, hard. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I moaned, feeling my body go weak. His hands roamed down my neck, my arms. He walked me backwards against the wall, then took my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand. His other hand trailed down to cup and caress my breasts through the thin fabric of the silk robe. I gasped as his fingers stroked over my nipples. He rolled the stiffened peaks between his thumb and forefinger, sending spirals of intense pleasure down through my body. He pressed himself against me, his cock hard and long against my hip.
“Bruin, what are you doing?” I managed to whisper.
“Taking what I want,” he answered, his voice rough and low. I could feel myself getting wet, slicker by the second. Every cell of my body burned for him. Begged him to touch me.
“We-we can’t do this,” I gasped as he began to kiss my neck.
I let out a little yelp as his teeth grazed my skin. I arched into him and he slid a hand down between my thighs, cupping my mound through the robe. I pushed against him, my body giving in without a fight even as my logical side shouted at me to stop this before it went any further.
“We can do whatever the hell we want,” Bruin replied gruffly, sucking my neck as he pushed my robe open and ran one finger along my slick pussy. I cried out and closed my eyes, rolling my hips toward him.
“What about the deal?” I asked breathlessly. “I’m here on business. For Jeff.”
“Let’s not talk about your brother right now,” he growled, grinding his hard shaft against me as he teased my clit with the tip of his finger. I was on fire, trembling already.
“Bruin,” I hissed. “I-I have a job to do.”
