Chandler: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (4 page)

“No one who dislikes sex has the upper hand.”

I lean back in my chair and cross my ankle over my knee. I’m anxious and worked up, and for the first time I can ever remember, I wish I were able to don the stoic mask that my brother wears so flawlessly. Me, I’m transparent. I’m jittery. My whole body twitches with my distress.

The worst part? I can’t let the subject go. “If you knew there was no way to satisfy you, why did you even let me take you home in the first place?”

“Honestly?” She blushes, and it’s so hot my balls itch. “I was trying to prove a point to my father.”

Holy. No. “You fucked me to prove a point to your father? I’m really not following.”

She shakes her head. “Of course you aren’t. I’m mucking this up. You see, at the benefit, after I realized who you were, I tried to tell my father that I’d met you. I was hoping to give you both an introduction, but as always, he wasn’t interested. He’s never very interested in what I have to say. He’s one of those men who thinks that women belong behind the scenes of charity functions, or if they must have a career, it should be in fashion or interior design. Definitely not business. Very old-fashioned.”

I don’t say it, but I can actually relate. My father isn’t too impressed with me most days either.

“I’m sorry if you’re the type to agree with him,” Genevieve goes on, “but, really I’m not sorry, because if you do agree, you’re a shallow, closed-minded misogynist who needs to stop being a prat and catch up with the times.”

“I’m not. Women should work where they want to work. Equal pay, equal benefits and all that jazz.” I sound lame the way I’m falling all over myself trying to impress her.

And I can’t seem to stop. “In fact, women should get paid more, in my opinion. They’re much smarter than men. More organized. Usually have better ideas too.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

I sense she’s biting back a laugh. I really am lame. Kill me now. “I know. I’m sorry. Go on. I’m still not clear on how I ended up in your bed.”

Genevieve tilts her head and studies me. “You
are
charming, you know. That had a lot to do with it. And your reputation. I figured if anyone had a shot at disrupting the status quo, it was you.”

Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Lay on the praise, babe.

“But also, my father was so dismissive. He acted like he thought it was cute that I had ‘made a friend’. Suggested I bring you home for dinner sometime. Needless to say, I was miffed. He’d never dismiss my brother like that, and Hagan wouldn’t know a good opportunity if it bit him in the arse. So, out of spite, I let you fuck me.”

“That’s. I’m.” In her short speech, she’s dropped so many personal details that I want to latch onto and pursue further.

But there’s one that’s especially pressing. “You
told your father
I took you home?”

“No. Noooo.” She waves her hand emphasizing the degree to which I’ve got the wrong impression. “It was more of a secret spiteful gesture. I know it sounds silly. It made me feel self-righteous at the time. Anyway, it’s backfired because now you also don’t seem to be interested in any business talk with me. Which is truly a shame, I might add. I was the top of my class at Cambridge. I have innovative ideas to bring to Werner Media. Accelecom would be such a major coup to have a partnership with, and if you’d just hear me out, I’m certain I could impress you.”

“Hold on.” I put my hand up to stop her from saying any more. There is shit that needs to be cleared up here and quick. “First of all, I’m already impressed.” She’s obviously smart as well as classy. I’m so impressed I can’t get comfortable in my chair, but mentioning that would probably help her case and not mine.

“Second of all, I am not a misogynist. I’d be more than interested in any idea you might have for Pierce Industries.” I’m already trying to think of places we could use her, and I don’t even know exactly what it is she does or what she has to offer. Well, besides the obvious. “But I’m not sure why you’d want to talk to me about Werner Media.”

“Because with Warren Werner about to retire, you’re going to need someone new at the helm. There’s no one currently primed to take his spot.”

“Yes, I agree. Just, that’s not part of our portfolio. If you’d like me to get you in touch with Warren—”

She folds her arms over her chest and gives me a stern look. “You don’t need to be dodgy. You’ve done well at keeping it under wraps, but I’m fully aware that Pierce Industries owns the majority shares of Werner Media.”

“No, we don’t.” I’m starting to wish we did, but sadly, no.

“Yes. You do. Your brother obtained controlling interest about five years ago.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He did,” she insists, frustration lacing her tone. “Are you really not aware? Pierce Industries has been a silent partner, letting Warren Werner maintain the position of figurehead.”

She’s so sure of herself, I consider the possibility. I mean, there is a lot that Hudson doesn’t tell me. It’s a big business, and I’ve only been working full-time since I finished my MBA last year. So it’s feasible that we have deals that I’m not quite caught up on.

If what she’s suggesting
is
true, it would explain Hudson’s interest in Werner Media forming a partnership with Accelecom. And why he wanted me to make a good impression at the gala.

Actually, it makes a lot of sense.

It’s my turn to study her. “How do you
know all this? If this information hasn’t been made privy to the public, I don’t understand how you know about it.”

“Well, I know about it from my father.”

“Who’s your father?”

“Edward Fasbender.”

I drop my leg to the floor and sit forward. “Your father’s the head of Accelecom?”

“Yes. Didn’t you realize? You saw me with him.”

Exactly the man my brother was hoping I’d impress. And I went ahead and banged the guy’s daughter. And his daughter wasn’t satisfied. This situation is starting to look bad.

I ball my hand in a fist and run it along my forehead. “I didn’t realize he was Edward Fasbender. And that still doesn't explain how Accelecom knows about Pierce Industries’ silent share majority.” The pieces aren’t coming together, but I’m starting to sense that when they do, it’s going to be even worse than it is now. If that’s possible.

“Oh. I see. But of course we know about Werner Media from my stepmother.”

“Your stepmother?”

The intercom sounds before she has a chance to answer. Three solid beeps and then Trish’s voice fills the air. “Chandler, I thought you’d want to know that Hudson just called and he’s on his way up with Edward Fasbender.”

Yep, I knew it was going to get worse.

Genevieve bolts up from her chair. “Oh shit. My father doesn’t know I’m here. If he finds out, he’s going to be mad as hell.”

Way worse.

I stand and move toward her. “Then we better get going before they get up here. Come on. We can slip out to—” I’m about to say
my
office when I remember I’d led her to believe this
was
my office. “To my
other
office.”

She seems confused—naturally—but doesn't hesitate when I put my hand on her shoulder to direct her out of the room. My skin feels instantly charged. How the hell can she say she didn’t have a good enough time?

Probably shouldn’t be worrying about that right now.

I open the door, but instead of moving out, her eyes double in size. “Fuck!” She scurries to hide behind me, urging me to close the door again.

I don’t have to ask why because I spotted them myself—Hudson and the man from the gala stepping out of the elevator.

I shut the door and press my back against it. Running a hand through my hair, I will myself to think of something. And quick.

Looking even paler than normal, Genevieve begins pacing and cursing. “Shit, shit, shit!”

There
is
another escape route from this office—the single elevator that leads to the loft above. It used to be where Hudson lived when he was a bachelor. Now I live there, but since my brother doesn’t particularly like the idea of me having free rein to just drop into his office whenever I like, he’s removed the access key.

As if the loft is the only way I’d drop into his office uninvited.

I also know where he keeps the key. I’m not sure if we have time to grab it, but we can try.

“This way.” Grabbing Genevieve’s hand, I pull her toward the closet by the liquor cabinet where Hudson’s got the key stashed. Then, when I realize we absolutely don’t have time to grab the key, cross the room, call the elevator, and get out of the office before my brother walks in, I pull Genevieve in with me and shut the door.

And that’s how I end up hiding from my brother in his office closet with the one girl on earth who doesn’t want to repeat fuck me.

God, my life sucks.

Did I mention the closet was small?

Really
small. Tight. Cozy. So cramped we practically have to press up against each other to fit inside.

Huh.

Maybe things aren’t going quite so bad after all.

T
he closet
, it turns out, provides exactly enough room for two bodies. We could stand shoulder to shoulder and that would take the entire width. The depth is almost half that. It’s only meant to hold a few coats or jackets, nothing more. Thankfully, it’s late August, so there’s not much in here besides us, a couple of Hudson’s spare suits, and a hook with the key to the elevator.

I eye the silver dangling on the wall above Genevieve’s head and consider whether we have time to try to make it to the loft after all. Her father and Hudson still haven’t entered the office—we’d have heard them.

“Are you sure they’ll come in here?” she asks, and I can tell she must be listening for them as closely as I am.

“Not positive. But if they’re having a meeting, it seems likely.” Which means we should stay put. I pocket the access key anyway. In case we get an opportunity.

She backs up against the wall and sighs. “Why are they using your office?”

I’m a fairly smart guy. I know my cover’s blown. The full disclosure tactic worked out all right before, so I just go ahead and admit, “Because this isn’t my office. It’s Hudson’s.”

“Why did you say it was yours then?” She’s huffy, which I suppose is fair. It’s also sort of hot.

I lean on the opposite wall, hands stuffed in my pockets. “I didn’t exactly say that it was, if you remember.”

“But you knew I thought it was.”

I shrug. I mean, she’s right, but it’s not like rehashing it is going to get us out of the situation we’re in.

“Well, that was a nice one, wasn’t it? Letting me believe something that wasn’t true.” She starts to cross her arms over her chest and close herself off but drops them when, I assume, she realizes the space is much too tight to allow that.

Isn’t that a shame?

I bend over her, placing my palm on the wall next to her face. “Hey, I didn’t know Hudson would be here. And I didn’t know he’d be with your father, and I most definitely didn’t guess that you’d be hiding from him.”

“I wouldn’t be hiding from him if—”

The office doors creak outside.

I clamp my hand over Genevieve’s mouth, silencing her, and we both perk up, listening to the rustle of the men’s movements, praying there’s no reason for Hudson to peek inside our hiding space.

“It’s not what you intend to do with Werner Media that I’m concerned with,”
he says, and it sounds like he’s passing us by, walking toward his desk, I guess.
“It’s how that will affect Pierce Industries.”

“I can assure you, Accelecom has no interest in taking any predatory action against your company. I’ve conceded to every one of your conditions, Hudson. Our position should be quite obvious.”
The voice that responds is British, but I can tell the crisp and formal manner with which the man speaks has as much to do with his personality as the location of his upbringing.

And this is what Genevieve has to deal with as a parent? Damn. It’s got to be like being raised by a Hudson. Poor girl.

This snippet of their conversation also confirms what she had said earlier, and I’m intrigued by what else they have to say.

But I’m more intrigued right now by
her
. She smells good, like some spring flower, the purple ones—lilacs, I think. Sunlight slips through the slats of the door, hitting her face, and her gaze is locked on mine. With her delicate features and bewildered expression, she reminds me of a doe, caught under a hunter’s riflescope.

My
doe. My prey.

You look at me all bright-eyed and trusting like that, and all I can think about is how far I could get my cock down your throat before you couldn’t breathe.

Her eyes widen, and I realize I didn’t just
think
those dirty, dirty thoughts. I actually
said
them. Out loud.

Oh, shit.

She made it clear that she’s not interested. So is that considered…? Did I just, like, sexually assault Genevieve Fasbender in my brother’s closet? With her
father right outside
?

There are a thousand ways that this could not be cool. At all.

And yet I haven’t let go of her. My hand still covers her mouth. I’m still pressed up close to her. So close that I don’t miss that she’s not bothered by what I said in the least. Her breath quickens and she peers up at me, her stare intense, wanting, and I swear, I can smell arousal mingling with the scent of her perfume.

“What more can we do to prove good faith?”
Edward asks, and I know my brother well enough to guess that he’s going to spell it all out for him.

Which means we have some time.

So…should I?

I move my hand off Genevieve’s mouth and trail a single finger over her chin, down the slope of her neck. Her pulse trips as my touch grazes across her skin. In response, she arches her neck, swallows, then runs her tongue over her bottom lip, and maybe this is how bad people convince themselves they’re not doing anything wrong, but I’m as sure as the hard-on below my belt that she wants this.

Whatever this is. Whatever it’s turning into.

Right now I’m just…exploring. Going by instinct. Figuring out what she will and won’t let me get away with.

Watching carefully for any sign of rejection, I continue the pathway down her body. She leans into my palm as I slide over the curve of her breast, and it’s tempting to stop and spend some time here.

But I’m still a little pissed at her.

I feasted on her tits the last time we were together, and she compared my moves to bad pizza. Like hell she’s getting that kind of attention this time.

Instead, I capture the bud of her stiff nipple between my thumb and forefinger and pinch.

Her mouth drops open in a silent gasp. Not the kind of gasp that says,
No
or
Stop
. The kind of gasp that says,
More
.

If I had any doubt, it’s erased when a single whisper of a word spills from her lips.
“Please.”

Permission granted
. Score!

Without further hesitation, my hand slides under the waistband of her pants and inside the silky material of her panties. She’s soaked.

Jesus, I thought I couldn’t get any harder. I was so goddamn wrong. I’m tempted to pull out my cock and make her play with it. I’m eager for her hands to wrap around the length of my shaft, dying for her to tug and stroke—

But there’s not enough room in here to do it the way I’d like her to, the way I need it—with her mouth on me. She’d be on her knees, and I wouldn’t be able to see her face. The slats in the door don’t go that far down. When she sucks me, I’m going to need to watch every detail.

Notice I said
when
, not
if
. Considering the current turn of events—i.e., my fingers fondling her pussy—I’m optimistic that a blowjob could be brought to the table for negotiation.

Not right now. Later.

Right now, I’m much more wrapped up in what else I can do to her. Wrapped up in what it will feel like when I do it.

She spreads her legs, granting me better access. It’s a total green light. I quit my hesitating and press the pad of my thumb to her clit. She’s so swollen—I can imagine how sensitive it must be. How hard it must be not to cry out as I touch her.

Suddenly I’m greedy to have her do just that. Never mind that we’re trying not to get caught. That fact just makes me all the more intent.

I rub against her again, increasing my pressure ever so slightly. When her eyes glaze and she bites her lip, I double my efforts, stretching my hand so that I can slide a finger inside her without breaking the contact I have with her nub.

This does the trick. She lets out the softest whimper, barely audible, but it’s enough.

With my free hand, I press her mouth into the curve of my shoulder and whisper gruffly into her ear. “If you make another sound, I’ll stop.”

She quiets instantly.

It’s fucking hot how quickly she responds. She believes me. Believes that I will stop and is desperate not to let that happen.

She’s such a good, good girl.

But now I have to torture her even more because she’s so trusting. Curving my finger, I stroke in and out of her, rubbing against her velvety walls, all the while massaging her clit. Her breath hitches. Her wetness thickens and her hips buck into my hand. Still I keep on, caressing and coaxing until she’s sweating and squirming and nipping at the fabric of my jacket.

She’s nearly there. Another nudge against her sweet spot, and I’m sure she’ll climax. I can’t decide if it’s crueler to pull away now or force her to try to come silently.

She wasn’t quiet at all that night in her hotel. I’m not sure she can even do it. I should slowly ease out of her and finish her off when our main priority is not to remain unnoticed. That would be the nice guy move.

But I don’t want to be the nice guy. Not anymore.

Wrapping her hair in my fist, I yank her head up so I can see her eyes. Then, sinking my fingers deeper inside her, I hit her where she wants it—where she needs it—and send her over the edge.

“
Shh
,” I mouth in warning as her face crumples into the most beautifully tormented expression I’ve ever seen. She trembles against me, her entire body shuddering with the wave of her release. It’s awesome. Not awesome like the word that’s thrown around in everyday generic vocabulary but in the true definition. Awe-some. As in, inspiring awe. As in,
damn, I’m awed
.

Distracted as I am watching her, I keep up the job. I’m merciless, even, stroking and coaxing her until she’s completely drained, until she’s given me every last drop of her orgasm. Until she’s limp in my arms, her breathing ragged, her skin glowing with a fine sheen of sweat. She’s spent.

And me?

Shit, I’m only getting started.