The words repeat in my mind as I nod to the doorman, ride the elevator up, and prepare myself for the night. The beard trim takes the longest. It's always a little difficult to get the lines perfectly straight by myself. Maybe I should have invited Brooke over? I shake my head. Too late now.
As I hop into the shower, my mind drifts back to her, no matter how many times I try to stay focused. I wonder what she'll wear? That purple dress that nearly brought me to my knees? No, probably not—much too sexy for a work event.
But a man can dream, right?
Just as I gently pat in my moisturizer (it's good for men, too! Gentlemen, take note!), my phone vibrates against the bathroom counter.
Brooke
Should we meet before the boat? Or would that be too suspicious?
Oh, that's a good question. I assume everyone will be showing up at about the same time, so it might not bethatsuspect if we roll up together. On the other hand, though, depending on what she's wearing? I might decide that actually, fuck the party, I need to be inside herimmediately. And if we're already with a bunch of people, that might tamp down any misguided urges.
Let's meet at boarding. I can't wait to see you.
She sends back the saluting emoji, and I crack a smile.
One night. One night of pure professionalism. It can't be that hard, right?
Wrong. Oh my god, I'm so wrong. From the instant I saw her at the pier, I knew I fucked up. I had my suspicions when I could see her legs peeking out from under her coat, but when she took it off? And I saw that tantalizing dress?
I'm so fucked. I'm more fucked than I've ever been. My mind is fully, completely focused onBrooke. Even now, as I'm sitting and smiling blithely while the CEOs of Atmosphere and DropTop make long-winded speeches about collaboration and aligning goals and value-focused deliverables? I can't retain a single word. I politely clap when everyone else does. I chuckle when one of them makes a ham-fisted joke about welcoming DropTop aboard.
My eyes stay laser-focused on Brooke the whole time. Every time she leans over and whispers something toDarrell, they try to contain their giggles. And I try to contain myself as I watch her breasts jiggle and practically spill out of the dress's neckline—seriously, what is that kind of dress? Was it custom-made to have me straining against my suit pants? Is it the Dustin Annihilator 9000?
Just as I think about her dress for the millionth time, she flicks her gaze over to me and stuns me with a loving smile. To anyone else in the room, it would seem innocuous. Just friendly colleagues being happy on a boat. But for me? That smile is dangerous. I shift in my seat as I flush a deep red. It's the same smile she gives me after I pound her into the mattress. It's the same smile she gives me after riding my cock into oblivion.
I break our shared gaze and inspect the city skyline out the window. We're not far from land, but there's no possible way I could ask the captain—do dinner cruises have captains?—to turn the fuck around so I can go eat my girlfriend's pussy. Even if thiswasn'ta work event, that would be decidedly un-kosher.
Fuck, I need the speeches to be done. This is a big ship, surprisingly large and luxe—surely there's a secluded area we could sneak off to? The brig, perhaps? Do dinner cruise ships have brigs?
I discreetly pull out my phone and tap out a text to Brooke.
Meet me at the bathrooms when the speeches are done.
Her phone vibrates against the table, and she cocks an eyebrow at me before reading the message. I can't help but flash her a cheeky grin as her cheeks turn a delightful pink as she reads. It almost matches the pink of her dress. If everything goes my way, I'm gonna spank her assred. Give her a lovely coordinating color.
She looks back up at me and gives me a tiny nod.Yes.
"And with that, I'd like to hand over the mic to your onboarding director, Dustin Sanders!" Kenton St. Clair—the fucking bastard—calls me out byname.It's like he grabbed me by the bones and shook me.
Brooke and I share a dumbfounded look. Darrell claps loudly and manages to shoot me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. I, personally, thank god for long tablecloths so I can adjust the raging erection Brooke has given me before standing. The entire DropTop company politely applauds with various whispers as I stagger to my feet and make my way to the slightly elevated stage.
Kenton (the bastard) hands over the mic and claps me on the shoulder.
"Uh, thank you. Um. It's been a pleasure getting to know everyone—"
"Woo!" Darrell yells out, and the crowd titters with laughter.
"—yes, woo. Uh. I look forward to a very productive future between DropTop and Atmosphere. Thank you for having me in your office these past few weeks. It's really…" I trail off awkwardly. Brooke looks up at me with mouth slightly agape and a shine in her eyes. God, I love her. I love her so much. I really, really need to be done with this. "It's been really great. Thank you again and welcome, um, aboard."
I practically throw the mic back to St. Clair before scurrying back to my seat. Mortification heats my neck and ears. I amnota public-speaking guy. I can't be sure, but I think the CEO signals for our food to be served. Slumping back into my chair, I let out a heavy sigh and gulp my white wine. It's pretty good. Thank fuck for that, I guess.
My dinner—a very fancy salad with blackened chicken—is quietly deposited in front of me. Brooke keeps peeking over between bites of her own salad. The idea of sneaking out and meeting her in a dark corner is the only thing keeping me going.
Buzz buzz.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the notification.
