The sound of water running from the bathroom reaches me, and I fold my arms underneath my head, gazing at the ceiling with a mixture of satisfaction and restlessness. My body is satisfied, but my heart? Not so much.
Just sex? Does she really think it’s ever going to be just sex when it comes to her and me? Five years ago, I took her to my bed thinking the same thing, and I was proven wrong. Today affirms it. I don’t know what it is about this particular woman, but she makes me lose control in ways that should terrify me.I’ve had several lovers before Natalie, but with all of them, I was able to hold back. Natalie brings out my deepest, most primal urges.
She matches me beat for beat, giving as good as she gets. Her submissive streak makes me want to ruin her completely, to claim her and mark her as mine for the world to see. Not only does she bring out these desires, she satiates them with an enthusiasm that leaves me breathless. Outside of bed, she’s a force to be reckoned with—intelligent, sharp-tongued, and utterly uncompromising. But in bed, she’s mine to do with as I please, and she revels in it. I don’t think she realizes just how perfectly she responds to my touch.
If it was just her body calling to me, it would be so simple. When I met her the first time, she had been different from every other woman I’d known. Spending time with her hadn’t been a hardship—it had been a revelation. I enjoyed our conversations, our time together, the way she challenged me without even trying. She wasn’t clingy like the other women I was used to dating, wasn’t calculating or predictable. To me, she was like a breath of fresh air in a world of stale expectations. All of this changed the night I took her to my bed, when I realized just how deep my obsession ran.
She’s still the same captivating woman, just wrapped in harder armor now. When she lets herself be vulnerable around me, like yesterday evening, I caught glimpses of the girl who had mesmerized me. She’s matured but retains an innocence I no longer see in the people around me, like a bright light cutting through infinite shadows. She’s also devastatingly smart, wickedly funny, and refuses to be pushed around by anyone—especially me.
And she still hasn’t forgiven me, not truly.
I may have gotten her in my bed, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve made any significant progress toward winning her heart. Our time spent together yesterday felt more fruitful than this morning’s passionate encounter. She opened up to me at the fair, laughed freely, let her guard down enough for me to see who she truly is beneath all those carefully constructed walls. Natalie holds herself together so tightly whenever she’s around me that seeing her relax like she did, laughing and bickering with me without reservation, felt like a precious gift.
The woman has shields around her higher than the walls of China, each one meticulously crafted from years of hurt and disappointment. I didn’t realize trying to get through to her would be so difficult, but then again, I’ve never encountered a challenge quite like Natalie Thorne. It seems I overestimated myself, but I am nothing if not adaptable—and determined.
Getting to my feet, I crack open the window to let in some fresh air before tugging on my pants.
Natalie’s clothes are scattered across the bedroom floor and some in the living area. I pick them up with careful hands and fold them, setting them aside with more tenderness than I’d show my own belongings. As much as I would love to take her back to bed the moment she emerges, I have a feeling she won’t be very receptive to that idea. And unfortunately, I have work to do.
Padding over to the kitchenette, I toss out the cold coffee before putting on another pot, the familiar ritual grounding me. After ordering up some late breakfast from room service, I search for my shirt, tugging it on before starting to make the necessary calls.
Having a leak in the Marketing Department is not just problematic—it’s infuriating. Especially when I’m trying to revive the previous yacht models with carefully crafted campaigns. An entire campaign stolen pisses me off more than I care to admit. Every instinct screams at me to return to Manhattan immediately, but my hands are tied. The board wants answers, reassurances, detailed explanations. They want me here until they’re satisfied, the empty-headed fools.
With Natalie’s invaluable help, I have managed to get rid of a lot of incompetent employees, but there’s bound to be more we’ve not yet uncovered. One of the reasons this company wasn’t being considered by serious investors was because it was an open secret in the industry that it had more leaks than a sinking ship. Plugging up those leaks is going to require surgical precision and ruthless efficiency.
The bathroom door opens, followed immediately by a crashing sound that echoes through the suite. Loud curses have my brows lifting in surprise as they come from the bedroom. I push open the door with growing concern. “Natalie?”
She’s slumped on the plush carpet, a towel wrapped around her trembling form, clutching the tail end of the embroidered cloth that had been on the table next to the bathroom. The contents of the table are now dumped unceremoniously on the floor around her like the aftermath of a small earthquake.
Without hesitation, I hurry over to pick her up, noting how she instinctively curl into my warmth. “What happened?”
“You!” She glares at me with watery eyes that somehow manage to be both furious and vulnerable. “You big brute! You happened to me!”
The sight of her tears has me stiffening in alarm, an unexpected protectiveness surging through my chest. “What did I do?”
“Everything!” She rubs the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, clutching her towel with the other like a shield. “I can’t feel my legs because of you!”
Guilt stabs through me as I carefully carry her over to the bed, noting how perfectly she fits in my arms. “Sorry about that. I’ll call a masseuse. The hotel offers massages. I’ll have one sent to the room.”
“You’re damn right you will.” She sniffles with adorable indignation. “And you’ll be paying for it.”
“Of course.”
“And I want coffee.”
The petulant edge to her voice makes me want to smile despite her obvious discomfort. She sounds like a princess throwing a royal tantrum, and I would like nothing more than to indulge her every whim. “I already have the pot on.”
She wipes her eyes again, and I feel both astounded and completely undone by how absolutely adorable she looks with her hair mussed and her cheeks flushed. I didn’t even know the word existed in my vocabulary until Natalie waltzed back into my life.
“I’ve ordered room service. Just change into something comfortable. Once you eat, you’ll feel better.”
“Really?” she asks with pointed sarcasm that makes my lips twitch. “Am I magically going to be able to start walking again?”
My lips twitch with barely suppressed amusement. “Well, no, but?—”
“I’m never sleeping with you again.” She drops the bombshell with the dramatic flair of a seasoned actress, and my eyes widen in genuine alarm.
“What?”
