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“Dayna, you are… Jesus, fuck.”
I quicken my rhythm until I’m on the precipice again, sweating, desperate to bring him to his peak with me. My breaths are erratic. My head is becoming a blur of bright lights. I lift my hair from my neck as he bites the plump flesh of my breast.
“Come with me, baby. I need to feel you.”
I submit to his demand, rotating my hips harder and faster, riding out my orgasm, squeezing his cock until he barks my name.
I’m not only sated, I’m spent. Mentally, physically, in every way. I fall into him and wrap my arms around him. He rocks us gently, still inside me, taking every last drop of pleasure from us both.
He carries me to the shower, where he silently washes my body and hair. I do the same to him, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath my soapy fingers. He kisses my brow, scalp, temples, as I clean him. Tears flow from my eyes and mix with the water from the shower. It’s too much. Him. Naked. Me taking care of him. Him taking care of me. The way we’ve laughed and talked tonight. I remember how smart he is, how funny. The way he gets me.
When we’re done, we climb into bed together, the air heavy between us. He pins me to him, his arm wrapped across my chest, my arm covering his. He nuzzles my neck until his breathing becomes slow and quiet.
I could panic now. I could start thinking about tomorrow. This was the end of us. It had to be.
Yet I wish we could stay like this. I wish I could stay in his arms. I wish the sun would never come up.
A KNOCK ON the door rouses me and I wake with a start. I lick my tender lips and hug the duvet to my sore breasts. My legs are wet and my labia swollen. I close my eyes and lie back, willing away the new day. Wanting to indulge in the memory of last night.
“Coffee?” Clark asks, carrying a tray of room service into the bedroom and placing it down on a table at the foot of the bed.
He’s wearing nothing but a towel. I would much rather do something with that sublime body than think and talk about what happens next.
I sit up, and he hands me a coffee. He knows the inevitable is here, and that’s why he sits in a chair by the table, rather than coming back to bed.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Sore.”
He smirks behind his coffee cup. “I meant about the tender.”
I nod, with a sigh. “I know. I still want the well, Clark. You and I, last night, doesn’t change that.”
He places his cup back on its saucer. “You never gave me an answer to my offer.”
Do I want to enter a joint bid with Clark? Be wedded to him in business for the next ten years?
Last night I was worried he’d played me for an idiot, got me hooked on him again, got close to me so he could coax me into a joint bid. But he’s right, Teddy’s right, Arthur’s right. The chance of making a profit if we increase our bid to beat Persian Fuels, even with SP’s blending capabilities, is slim at best. He really is doing this to protect me. The thought hangs like a heavy burden in my chest, rather than my lifeline. And with it, comes my new concern.
I’m falling for Clark all over again. I’ve fallen.
There’s so much history, so many issues that he needs to sort out with his almost-wife, that I don’t know if we would even stand a chance. But the thought that going into business together would mean we couldn’t be together and look out for the best interests of our companies, it kills me. If, or when, we screw things up again, it would mean mess, big mess. It wouldn’t be fair to our companies, our fellow directors.
Closing a business deal would close the door on us, forever. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or my worst nightmare.
“I need to think about it, Clark.” I need to get my head straight.
“Dayna, you know it makes sense. You want the well. I know you’re not going to back down. But I am begging you not to get into business with Bahrain. It’s dangerous. If you beat Caspar he might not let it lie. I want to be in that fight with you, every step of the way. If anything happened to you…”
I put down my coffee and take the sheet with me as I head to the bathroom, suddenly uncomfortable being naked around him.
“I’ll think about it.”
“And us?”
“I think we both have a lot of mess to sort out, Clark. Fucked-up probably aptly describes us both.”
I shut the bathroom door, close the lid of the toilet and sit down on it, rubbing my temples.
Fuck.
