Up Close and Personal (12 page)

“Then quit for one night. You can go back on the clock in the morning.” He pulls me toward him, kisses me. When I squirm against him he rips off my sleep t-shirt, and pushes me prone on the couch until he’s lying on top of me. He bends forward and sucks the tip of one breast into his mouth. “You taste like heaven itself.”

I take a deep breath, curl my hand around his nape while he worships my breasts. The thought that he wants me as much as he does boggles my mind. I never had boys come on to me my entire life and yet here’s this gorgeous man with obvious proof of his desire for me.

His head comes up. “Tell me you want this, Caitlyn.” His voice’s gone rough, gravelly. It no longer carries that playful tone.

This big, powerful man with more money than God is begging nobody Caitlyn Bennett to make love to him. It might be wrong. But I want it too. “Yes. I do.”

“Where did you put the condoms?”

“Here.” I reach for one on the coffee table and hand it to him. He tears the foil with his teeth, rolls it over his hard cock. “It’s going to be fast and hard. Hope you’re okay with that.”

“And if I wasn’t?”

“I’d try to go slow for your sake.”

“You don’t have to. I want this as much as you do.”

“I doubt that very much.” He slides me beneath him, notches his penis in my sheath. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I only have a second to brace for the onslaught of his passion before he pushes in cutting off my breath. Fast and hard, he pounds into me while I hang on for dear life. He’s long and thick and hard. The sheer virility of him proves in the most primal way possible that he is a man. His take-no-prisoners approach might offend someone else, but I love it. It proves he wants me, and for this moment in time, he’s all mine. But his vigor plays havoc with our bedding. I plant my feet on the mattress to keep from sliding off. To no avail. His vigorous moves lands us on the floor. He barely pauses a second before he resumes pounding me into the rug. And by then, I don’t care anymore.

We both come in a blaze of heat and fireworks. I scream. He grunts as he collapses on top of me. Heavy as he is, I cradle him against me while we fight for breath.

Sometime in the middle of the night, we move to the bed where he makes love to me again and again. At some point, he ties one of my silk stockings around my eyes so I can’t see. Somehow the darkness, not knowing what he might do next, intensifies my climax. In the morning, I’m so sore, I can barely walk.

“I shouldn’t have ridden you so hard,” he says in the shower.

“I didn’t say no. I wanted you too.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Hire me back?”

He throws back his head and laughs. I’ve never seen him this carefree. I’m glad I was able to give that to him.

Chapter 15

______________

Sterling

I RELUCTANTLY RETURN to my suite in the morning to shave, bathe and dress. I tried to talk her into coming with me, but after walking me back to my door, she kissed me goodbye, claiming she had something to do. I miss her. I do. Last night was one of the best of my life. We made love three times, each time better than the last. She’s become much more than my personal assistant. But what is she exactly? She’d protest if I called her my lover, even though that’s exactly what she is. Thing is I can’t live without her. Not anymore. She makes me happy with her silly notions of what’s right and wrong. I’ll have to figure out how to work my way around her ideals. Once we return home, I’ll have to devise a plan.

That evening our hosts throw a party for everyone, including Caitlyn. I pay a maid to escort me to her room. When she opens the door, she gasps. She’s surprised to see me.

“What are you wearing?”

“A black cocktail dress.” I can’t tell the color. They all look the same to me. I haul her into me and kiss her while standing at the front door. When I do, someone passing behind us, giggles. Two young girls or women by the sound of it.

She pulls back, but I haul her close again. “Don’t. I’m not finished kissing you yet.”

“Sterling.” She pushes me back. Something clicks. Her purse? “Here.” She tucks a piece of paper into my breast pocket. “I meant to give you this later on, but we might as well do it right now.”

“What is it?”

“The check you wrote me this morning. I don’t want to be fired.”

After she’d escorted me to my room, I’d given her the check for a full year’s salary plus a bonus. Not as a payment for what we’d done during the night, but because I wanted her to pay off her mother’s medical bills so we could get on with our lives. But obviously she can’t accept it. “Then what do you want, sweetheart?”

“I’m not your sweetheart.”

“What are you then?”

“What I’ve always been, your personal assistant.”

“With benefits?” I ask, hopefully.

“No. This can’t happen again. We satisfied our desires and now we’re done.”

Damn it. Should have known she’d take this tack again. “No. We’re not. I’m not done with you. I want more.”

“It’s not happening, Sterling. We better go.” She closes the door behind her, and we make our way to the hotel restaurant where a private room has been reserved. Our hosts have gone all out. Not only did they arrange a splendid feast, but they hired a band.

The evening is winding down when I ask her for a dance. She won’t say no to me knowing I have to save face with my hosts.

While we dance, I insinuate my leg between hers. The voluminous volume of her skirt hides what I’m doing, but every time I press against her pussy she gasps.

“Stop doing that,” she says, outraged.

“Why? You like it and I love it.” I twirl her and steal a kiss. When I dip her, she trembles as she clings to my biceps. She may deny us all she wants, but she loves what I’m doing to her. “Invite me to your room.”

“Sterling.”

“Invite me.”

I don’t know if it’s the plea in my voice or the knowledge that once we return home this can never happen again. Whatever the reason, she says, “Okay.”

After we say goodnight to our hosts, I take her elbow and escort her back to her room. On the elevator ride up, we’re surrounded by other guests, but my hand twitches around hers. Given half a chance, I’d pin her to the elevator wall and ravage her mouth, her tits, her.

When we arrive at her room, she fishes out the key card. No sooner do we step inside that I’m pushing her back toward the door and do everything I wanted to do in the elevator. “God, I thought I’d go insane. I need you, Caitlyn.” Just so she knows what I’m talking about I drive her hands to my crotch. My hard on should be proof enough of my hunger for her.

I drag her into the bedroom where I twirl her around and pull down her zipper. Her cocktail dress drops to the floor to pool at her feet. My fingers skim her skin to her bra, wander down to her panties. She’s wearing a garter belt and stockings. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No. I like dressing like this.”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel pretty.”

“You’re not pretty. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

I pull out a string of condoms from my slacks. With her help, I tear off my jacket, my shirt, get rid of my slacks. I roll one of the condoms over my erection and fall into bed with her.

Chapter 16

______________

Caitlyn

THE FLIGHT HOME takes less time than the trip to Hong Kong. We only stop in San Francisco long enough to refuel before we continue our journey to Virginia. Even so, we don’t get back home until late evening. Exhausted as we are, we both skip dinner. I barely take time to shower and unpack before I face plant on my pillow.

But sometime in the middle of the night, I come awake to find Sterling in bed with me. After the milder temperatures of Hong Kong, Virginia seems so much colder. Grateful for his warmth, I cuddle up to him and go back to sleep. In the morning when I wake up, he’s gone.

Nor is he in the dining room. “Good morning, Moseley.”

“Good morning, Ms. Bennett. How was your trip?”

“Great.” Wish Sterling was here because we really need to talk. I sense we’ve gone past the boss-employee relationship, but I don’t have the foggiest idea where we stand. We’re not in a relationship. Are we lovers? Friends with benefits? God only knows.

Proud I can understand the discussions and make sense out of them, I spend the morning transcribing his notes from the meeting.

After lunch, his phone rings. Since he’s not there, it rolls over to me. “Sterling MacKay’s office, Ms. Bennett speaking.”

“Hello, Ms. Bennett. It’s Dr. Testa. He missed another appointment.”

“We just returned last night from Hong Kong. He probably forgot.”

“It’s vital I see him. Time is running out,” he says.

My heart lurches. “What do you mean?”

“At his last appointment we discovered his vision is 30%. That’s down from 60% two months before. At this rate, he’ll be totally blind in another couple of months. We need to act now.”

The thought of Sterling losing what little vision he has tears at me. “I’ll talk to him when he comes home.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bennett. I appreciate that.”

That evening during dinner, I wait until dessert is served before I bring up the phone call. “Your eye doctor called.”

His hand clenches on his fork. “Oh?”

Moseley dismisses the maid. He probably senses things are about to get ugly.

“You didn’t make your appointment. Did you get tied up at the office?”

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you—”

His voice rises. “Because I damn well didn’t want to, that’s why.”

“He’s worried about your sight.”

His mouth thins into a hard, white line. “What sight? I’m nearly blind.”

“How do you expect your vision to improve—”

“Ms. Bennett. My vision, or lack thereof, is my problem, not yours.”

We’re back to Ms. Bennett again, his way of imposing distance between us. But this time it’s not going to work. “I’m your personal assistant. So that means your doctor appointments fall under my area of responsibility. You need to go. How else are you going to get better?”

He slams down his fork. “For six months, I’ve gone to him and his predecessors. Visited eye doctors, specialists several times a week. They all poked around, took images of my eyes, examined every bit of me, and my head as well. And none of them have helped me regain any kind of fuckin’ usable vision.”

He rubs his hand across his brow.

“Headache?”

“Yes. Moseley, get me my pills.”

“Yes, Sir.” Moseley departs, leaving Sterling and me for the moment alone.

“Maybe those headaches are caused by pressure in your eyes and that’s causing your loss of vision.”

“So you’re a doctor now?” He bites out.

“No. But my mother suffered from headaches when she had cancer. And it was caused by something pressing down on a nerve inside her head. The doctors couldn’t relieve her pain, but at least they knew what caused it.”

“You think my doctors haven’t thought of that?” He picks up his fork and resumes eating his apple pie.

“All I know is you should go. Otherwise you’ll never get better.”

“And maybe if I go, I still won’t.”

“At least you would have tried.”

“Stay out of my personal affairs.”

“You can’t give up. You have to keep trying.”

“No. I don’t.” Jerking to a stand, he bumps the table and overturns the wine glass. “Stay out of my life.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll fire you.”

“You already do that, remember? You fire me every night and hire me back in the morning.”

“This time it will be permanent,” he says as Moseley returns with his pills. He pops a couple his mouth and storms out of the dining room.

Knowing it won’t do any good to follow him, I don’t. “He’s so stubborn.”

Moseley, wise servant that he is, doesn’t say a thing.

After I finish my apple pie, l retire to my room where I change into my flannel gown and grab my e-reader. But the story fails to capture my attention and soon I’m asleep.

I wake up to his body sliding into bed with me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

I turn into him. “I only want the best for you.”

He captures my hand, kisses it. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

“Sterling—”

He shushes me by putting a finger across my lips. “No more talk.”

We spend the next hour making love, but in the morning he is gone. Over the next two weeks we fall into a routine. After dinner, I go to my room. An hour later, he joins me. Sometimes we talk and fall asleep. Sometimes all he wants to do is make love. I can’t deny him. Not anymore.

The staff has to know. After all, there’s plenty of evidence he visits me every night. But not by so much as a glance or a word do I detect censure from them. If anything, the mood in the house has lightened. Where before no sounds could be heard, now I hear the occasional laughter. One morning outside my room, I run into a maid humming a song. And I even catch Moseley whistling while he polishes silver.