Fisting the comforter, she stopped any more movements than that, staving off the release she so desperately chased. It was all so good. Too good. Slowing her breathing, she managed to hold off her building climax.
But through the boundless waves of ecstasy, there was something about his touch. She knew it. She’d had it before. Just like the notes of a fine wine, or jazz, his movements were so unusual and distinctive, the brilliant complexity became identifiable. Familiar.
Or is it in my head?
Who the fuck cares? His touch is perfect.
God, how much does he charge by the hour?
His fingers pressed in. Not one or two like he was respecting her delicacy. Instead, his three thick fingers shoved in deep, filling her with a rush that pushed right past politeness and straight on to the roughness of a good, deep fuck. Each thrust was its own hot, firm invasion where pain and pleasure collided.
Charity struggled for air, rocking against the hand that gave her a ride that consumed every part of her tingling existence. And it was everything. Just like . . . the last time.
The ball of his thumb was pure ecstasy on her clit, circling until there was nothing but sensation pulsing through every nerve of her body.
As she rode his hand into oblivion, nothing mattered. Nothing existed. Nothing but the heat building within her like a wildfire in the midst of a dry desert. Tumbling in one crashing wave upon another, she reveled in the delirium that could almost set her free.
His touch woke every remnant of her raw and honest desire. Ripping through her unapologetic lips was the one word she didn’t mean to say. Her breathy whisper released it without her permission, and the body that caved from the euphoric explosion instantly filled with regret.
“Jordan.”
Alex waited until Charity’s shudders ended before shifting her limp body below the plush comforter. When he tugged his tie from her head, her sleepy gaze met his for a second before he headed to her bathroom.
After barely enough time to do a quick cleanup, he reappeared with a gentle grin. His loose tie was back over his shirt with just the right amount of give a damn for the early hours of the morning.
Suspecting he must have noticed the fleeting frown she didn’t hide fast enough, she finally mustered two words. “I’m sorry.”
Taking a seat on the bed, he gave her hand a tender squeeze. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Jordan is very, very lucky,” he said warmly.
Suffocating the full weight of her sadness in a controlled breath, Charity threw her arm over her eyes, desperate to cover a tear. “If only she knew I existed.” Pining for the return of her mysterious one-night stand seemed hopeless.
It took a second of silence for her arms to lower. Apparently, the she reference that Charity had just tossed him filled his ruggedly handsome face with intrigue before taking a hairpin turn to revisit their encounter.
His words were softer than she’d ever heard. “I didn’t mean to push you into this.”
Giggling, she corrected him. “I believe you read the pressure valve backward. You didn’t push me into anything. At all.”
“I mean, if your natural tendency is . . .” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Women.”
The polite lift of his brow caused Charity to laugh louder than before, and something about his boyish attempt to correct his perceived misstep had her hands caressing his cheeks in an instant.
“Hey,” she said, reassuring him. “My natural tendency is people. In every form imaginable.”
His eyes widened as he mouthed the words back to her. Micro-expressions flitted across his face as he mentally explored the continuum of every form imaginable.
Finally breaking away from the intellectual mix-and-match options, he turned to her with a curious grin. “So, we’re good?”
“No,” Charity said with a scoff. “We’re sure as hell not good. I was supposed to help you get over your shit. Enjoy yourself. Relax.” Her yawn followed a long stretch beneath the blanket, emphasizing her point. Stacking her hands behind her head, she waited for his response.
“Trust me, you gave me exactly what I needed. And then some.” He kissed her head and moved for the door, ready to head out.
“And then some? Does that mean you owe me?” Charity’s words were playful, but she wanted one last second of their closeness as it ended. Their time was nearly up.
He needs at least one wisecrack for the road.
Alex leaned against the door frame, seeming to contemplate her question a minute too long. Finally, he gave her a lasting glance and a cryptic smile with a riddle in one word.
“Maybe.”
Killing the remainder of the lights, he let himself out.
20
Paco
Six months later
Paco delivered his trademark pair of choppy knocks to Alex’s office door, but he was sure the man could identify him by little more than his shadow, footsteps, and breathing. He heard the soft come in and sighed, worried about how each day Alex’s usual happy demeanor seemed to fade a little more.
Alex didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he stood silently before the panoramic skyscraper view, losing himself in the downpour against the lights of a metropolitan backdrop. The plummets of heavy raindrops and occasional flashes of lightning were always beautiful from behind the double-paned windows that silenced even the loudest weather.
Paco headed to the bar to pour a bourbon for Alex. After a quick debate, he opted to shake things up with a Chopin vodka for himself instead of his usual Grey Goose. And then there was the third glass.
The pour was usually dealer’s choice, but knowing who’d be finishing that one off, he poured another bourbon, well past two fingers.
This might start as a business meeting, but it wouldn’t end as one. Looking up, Paco decided to tackle business first.
“We’re starting a new trust test next week.”
“What’s that?” Alex didn’t move but readily engaged.
“We have a few positions that require higher than normal sensitivity and trustworthiness. We need to know where people stand. Dozens applied. We’re setting a series of Alex Drake wallets in their path. We want to know who will return it. Who will snoop through it. Who will outright steal some or all of it. And who might just try to parlay the info on the dark web for a tidy profit.”
Alex barely nodded, but Paco caught the grin of approval in his reflection. “Any concern from legal?”
“Nope. When they applied for the positions, they signed an agreement to a series of random tests of trust, with the consequences of a discovered breach leading to actions that may—and possibly will—result in termination.”
“They signed that?”
“Every last one of them, with Gina walking through the document and reading it aloud before they signed. She’s pretty burned out on reciting it.”
“What are you putting in the wallet?”
Laughing, Paco answered. “For starters, a fake ID of yours with the most hideous photo of you we could find. Then the usual—trackable credit cards, a note with passwords and usernames to fake accounts, and two thousand dollars in marked hundred-dollar bills.”
For the first time since Paco entered, Alex turned around. His five o’clock shadow was nearing the stage of a scruffy beard, and his normally meticulously styled hair was tousled. “Okay. Let the games begin.”