One Night with the CEO (12 page)

E
xhausted from a four-hour medical school orientation, Karen came home, used the bathroom, and dove under the covers. Nothing—and she truly meant
nothing
—would get her out of the bed for the rest of the evening.

She considered the orientation a resounding success. For one thing, she’d been able to focus on the presentations, taking notes on the professors’ expectations of their students and the options for her spring clinical schedule. In less than six months, the medical school would unleash her and her classmates on an unsuspecting public; they’d have the opportunity to assist with taking patient histories and shadowing more experienced medical students and doctors. The orientation had covered the do’s and don’ts of interacting with patients.

For another thing, she hadn’t thought about Mark once—and given how often she’d thought about him the past week, that was a significant feat. But now she lay in bed and memories of her night with Mark returned in full force. She closed her eyes, and a vivid image of Mark staring up at her under the veil of his thick eyelashes came to her.

Her night with Mark had changed her in ways she’d never anticipated. Now she knew the sensation of being stretched to capacity. Now she knew a man could dig his fingers into her hips as she rode him and the bite of pain would make her tighten around him. Now she knew that she could make a man come hard simply by telling him how he made her feel. Moaning from the memories alone, she slid her hand under the comforter, trailed her fingers down her stomach, and imagined Mark’s soft lips marking her body as his.

Her cell phone rang, and she blindly reached for it.
What a stupid move.
Her hand accidentally tipped the phone off the nightstand, and the phone clattered to the floor. Stretching her torso over the edge of the mattress, she scooped it up. Though she tried to clear her voice of any signs of her arousal, her greeting still came out breathy. “Hello?”

“Karen.”

If she’d had her hand on her clit right then, Mark’s rough voice would have taken her over the edge. She blew out a slow breath.
Keep your cool, chica. No fawning over a man allowed.
“Mark, this is a surprise.”

“How have you been?”

He’d called to shoot the breeze? How odd. “I’m fine. You?”

“I’m fine, too.”

Except he didn’t sound fine. His voice held none of the playfulness she’d come to associate with him. Instead, she got the distinct impression he resented the need to contact her. “What’s up, Mark?”

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

Never in a million years would she have expected Mark to call and ask her for a favor. Not after they’d agreed to go their separate ways. Not after he’d left Puerto Rico without saying good-bye. She understood why he’d done it—or she thought she did, at least. What they’d done on the island was an interlude to be tucked away, never to be discussed again. Despite her acknowledgment of these facts, she couldn’t shut off her feelings at will. Even now, their tenuous relationship was in its raw phase—the phase in which simply seeing him would make her nervous and edgy. Anything he asked of her would be overshadowed by that fact. “What do you need?”

“I’m attending a gala next week, a sort of who’s who of the technology industry, and I need a date. I was hoping you’d join me. As my friend, of course. But I’d understand if you didn’t want to go. I just figured you might enjoy yourself, and it would make the evening bearable for me.”

For a moment, she wondered if she’d hallucinated the whole exchange. He wanted to take her to a black-tie affair? As friends? Yes, she envisioned them being in the same room together a few months from now. But being together one-on-one, next week, at an event where presumably they’d be expected to dance, too? If she had masochistic tendencies, sure that would be fine. But she didn’t. She swallowed in an unsuccessful attempt to moisten her dry throat. “I don’t—”

“I want to see you,” he said.

A flutter skipped across her belly at his words.
Oh, she hadn’t seen that one coming.
Her gaze darted around the room in search of an object to focus on. Without an anchor for her thoughts, she wouldn’t be able to finish the conversation. She settled on the stethoscope her parents had given her as a graduation gift. “Is that the real reason you called?”

She held her breath as she waited for his answer. Seconds ticked by. Was he still there? “Mark?”

“I’m in a hotel room in Miami, thinking about you. I called because I had to. I—”

She held her breath as the silence stretched beyond a few seconds, not knowing what to expect. Her death grip on her cell phone cramped her fingers.

“I want to see you,” he added.

His confession emboldened her. If he could admit it, so could she. “I’d like to see you, too.”

“Okay, we’ve established that we want to see each other again.” The lightness in his voice had returned. “So what do we do about it?”

“Not sure.”

“Well, since we’re being so open with each other, I have another confession to make.”

She’d reached her quota for confessions in a single night. Any more and she’d be a wreck. Oh, who was she kidding? She was already a wreck. “Lay it on me, Lansing.”

“I wish I could reach through this phone and touch you.”

“And I have a confession.”

“Tell me.” His voice had lowered to a whisper.

“I wish you could reach through this phone and touch me, too.”

“Are you in bed?”

“I am.”

“So am I.”

Phone sex was virgin territory to her, but she very much wanted to change that. It would serve as a bridge between their last sexual encounter and their next one—because unless she was seriously misinterpreting this conversation, there would
definitely
be a next one. “Are you naked?”

He chuckled. “No, but I can fix that.”

“So can I. Ready. Set. Go.”

She dropped the phone on the mattress, threw her tank top over her head, and slipped off her panties. Gah. The stethoscope. She couldn’t look at it without thinking of her parents, so it definitely had to go. She ran to the other side of the room, grabbed the stethoscope, and placed it outside her bedroom door.
So
much better.

She dove under the sheets. Next, she moved to pick up the phone and stopped herself. Staring at the palms of her hands, she debated whether to pick up the phone with a tissue, until an idea came to her: speakerphone. Brilliant. She gingerly pulled a tissue from the box and depressed the speaker button. “Mark? You still there?”

“Yeah. I’m done, though.”

“What?” She winced at the panic in her voice. “Did you—”

“I’m kidding. Got everything you need. Candles? Soft lighting? Music?”

“Ha, ha. Bear in mind I could do this without you, Lansing. I’ve had
lots
of practice.”

His groan echoed in her room. “Now I’m really done.”

She laughed. Silence followed. And for once she welcomed it.

“Close your eyes, Karen. Focus on my voice.”

She complied without hesitation. “I’m listening.”

“I want you to use your imagination. If I were there, this is what I’d do to you. I’ll guide you. Is that okay?”

She rubbed her thighs together, the pressure between her legs already building. “Yes,” she managed to say.

“Good. If I were there, I’d use the tips of my fingers to caress your jawline. I’d kiss your jawline, too. Then I’d trail my index finger down the center of your neck. You with me?”

She mimicked his words, imagining her hands were his, each movement a featherlight touch against her heated skin.

“I’d move down to your breasts. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from placing my big hands on your beautiful tits. I’d massage them. Would you like that?”

Karen placed her hands on her breasts and kneaded them. Her nipples tightened at the contact. “Yes. I’d love that, Mark.”

“Now imagine me sucking your nipples. They’d tighten into stiff peaks. You’d be so turned on that you’d reach for my cock. Would you stroke it for me, Karen?”

“Oh, God. Yes, I’d stroke it. It’s so thick. My fingers wouldn’t be able to close around it completely.”

“Ah, Karen,” he hissed. “My dick is so fucking hard right now just thinking about it.”

Her fingers froze on her chest as his words worked their way to her core. She squeezed her muscles, wanting to draw out her arousal, and they pulsed in response. She flexed her feet to release the tension from curling her toes into the mattress. “What now?”

“I’d ask you to spread your legs, and then I’d settle my upper body between them. I’d spend some time looking at you. You’d be wet, wouldn’t you, Karen?”

Oh, he knew how to torture her. “Yes, Mark. I’d be so wet for you. I’d be glistening. And I’d use my fingers to spread my lips, so you could see how wet you’ve made me.”

He moaned.

At this point she couldn’t stop herself from writhing against the mattress. She imagined his dark eyes watching her as she opened herself to him. “Are you touching yourself, too?”

“I am. My hand is wrapped around my cock. Right now I’m going slowly. I’ll pick up the pace soon.”

Her mouth fell open at the thought of him naked in his bed and stroking himself.

“Now back to you,” he continued. “Slide your hands down your stomach. Now give your hips a gentle squeeze. Your fingers are small compared to mine, but just imagine my fingers gripping your hips. Imagine the pads of my thumbs resting on your skin, pressing against your hips and kneading them. Still with me?”

If she were any more with him, she’d teleport herself to his hotel room. “Oh, yeah. I’m with you.”

“Place your fingers outside your pussy, baby. Massage your lips. Now open those folds. Feel the air touch that wet flesh. It’s wet, right?”

She tapped her clit and confirmed that she was soaked. “Yes, I’m wet.”

“Okay. Take some of that wetness and spread it around. Now that you’re ready, rub your clit. Slow circles only.”

She circled her clit with her fingers, but it wasn’t enough. “Can I go faster?”

“No. Slow. Tell me how it feels.”

“I feel so much heat between my legs. And my muscles are tense. My clit is throbbing. And if I squeeze, it throbs even harder.”

“Jesus. I’m picking up the pace, Karen.”

“I need to rub it faster.”

“Yes, rub yourself faster, harder. Make yourself feel good.”

She rubbed her clit in hard circles. Over and over. Again and again. Until her back arched off the bed. She rose on an elbow and looked down at herself. “I’m imagining your head between my legs, licking me, sucking me. I’m going to come soon.”

“So am I, baby. And I wish with every fiber of my being that I could finish you off.”

She closed her eyes and moaned. “I’m close, Mark.” A few circles more and her body tightened almost painfully as the orgasm hit her. “Oh, God. That’s it. That’s it. Yes. Yes.”

His moans grew louder as hers softened. “Karen, I’m coming too,” he said, his voice tight and gritty.

She emerged from the haze and listened to the sounds of his heavy breathing. He’d done it again. Made her forget everything but him and the feelings he’d managed to draw out of her. Sated, she turned on her side and stretched. “That was incredible.” She finished the declaration with a huge yawn.

“Indeed it was.”

“I’m so glad you called.”

“Which reminds me. Will you come to the gala with me?”

Oh, right. She’d forgotten the reason for his call. In her muddled state, she blurted out her question. “As your friend?”

The ensuing silence warned her she wouldn’t like his answer.

K
aren’s question hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. It was a fair question, but he didn’t know how to respond to it.

He needed more time to come up with a coherent answer. “Give me a sec.” He sprang from the bed and toweled himself off. Deciding to go commando, he slipped into his jeans.

He picked up the phone again and paced the room. “I have a feeling this is a trick question. I’m screwed either way, right?”

She laughed. “No, I just want to know what you’re thinking. Just so there’s no confusion.”

“Karen, I assure you, there’s confusion.”

She snorted on the other end of the line, and he smiled. “I’ll give you ten points for honesty, Lansing. And I’ll put you out of your misery. Tell me about this tech gala.”

“It’s a black-tie affair. Lots of schmoozing. Decent food. Plenty of quality liquor to get us through the worst of it.”

“As you know, I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Dancing. There’ll be dancing. I might even be able to get the band to play a salsa song, so we can put our new moves to good use.”

She sighed. “I’d like to go with you. It’s just…it’s the kind of event that would make me nervous, and you know what happens when I’m nervous. You’ll have a babbling idiot for a date…”

The tension left his body, and he grinned. “We make a good team, remember? If you start babbling, I’ll cover for you.”

The sound of her clucking her tongue meant she was at least considering it, right? “I don’t know, Mark. Wouldn’t you prefer to go with someone who’ll make you look good?”

“I want to go with you. So before you stomp all over my heart, let’s discuss the basics. Do you have something to wear? It’s a black-tie affair.”

“I could borrow something from Mimi. She’s about my size, and I know she attends these kinds of events for work all the time.”

“Okay. What about your availability. It’s next Saturday at seven.”

“My social calendar is decidedly antisocial these days, so that’s not an issue.”

If he asked her about her social calendar, they’d get sidetracked. But eventually he’d ask her about her friends. So far she hadn’t mentioned any. “Okay. You have access to a dress. You’re available. And you’ll get to spend the evening with me.”

“At a tech gala where a bunch of techies will talk tech. You’ll have to forgive me for not signing up this minute.”

“I’ll take you home with me and thank you for your time.”

She whistled. “Breaking out the big guns, huh?”

“One gun in particular.”

“
So subtle.
When will you pick me up?”

“Six thirty. Bring an overnight bag. I’d like you to stay the night. We’ll talk then.” The words tumbled out before his brain could catch up and retract them. He could pretend his dick was running the show, but he knew his dick had no interest in sleepovers. Which meant what, exactly? Fuck it. He didn’t care to examine his motivations any further. “So yeah, I have to go, but I’m looking forward to Saturday. Good night, Karen.”

“Good night, Mark. Thanks for calling. I know I gave you a hard time, but I’m really glad you called.”

He swore he could hear the smile in her voice; it reached through the phone and brightened his dark hotel room. Yeah. He was in trouble.

Karen turned sideways and inspected her reflection in the mirror as she debated whether to wear Spanx. She took a deep breath and sucked in her stomach for as long as she could, blowing out air only after she risked turning blue. Spanx would have been nice, but if she and Mark had sex that evening, the process of getting the contraption off her would turn into a tug of war. Plus, she wasn’t feeling well—nervousness, she supposed—and being squeezed to death by a spandex boa constrictor wouldn’t help matters. No Spanx.

Mimi had come through for her with a stunning dress. The steel blue one-shoulder gown hugged Karen’s curves and gave the illusion that her breasts defied gravity. It featured a cowl back with a clever strip of trim that allowed her to wear a bra without disturbing the open-backed design. A silver clutch and silver peep toe shoes completed the ensemble.

The buzzer for her apartment sounded. She pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”

“Karen, it’s Mark.”

“Hi, Mark. Come on up.”

After she buzzed him in, Karen fussed with her hair one more time. Her thick locks would never hold a chignon without numerous cans of hairspray, so she’d left her hair loose, a single crystal clip holding it back on one side.

Mark rang the doorbell, and she opened the door. They stared at each other, and she held on to the door for support as she got her first look at him. He’d gone for a classic black tuxedo and bow tie, and the jacket fit his broad shoulders perfectly. The rich fabric of the tux contrasted with the delicate silk on the lapels. He’d draped a silver silk scarf around his neck, which begged for her to take its ends and tug him to her. So she did. “You look handsome.”

His eyes, dark and assessing, softened. “I’m not sure any words could describe how incredible you look. I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

“Let’s take this inside, then,” she said as she pulled him into the apartment.

As soon as she closed the door, he whipped her around and pressed her against it. His lips swept over hers, seeking entrance, and when she parted her lips, he licked his way inside her mouth. The taste of him, a hint of coffee chased away by peppermint, intoxicated her. She cradled his jaw with her hands and melded her body to his, wanting to get as close as she could to him.

He broke away and lowered his mouth over her bare shoulder. Her legs wobbled like they were made of gelatin, so she grabbed on to his waist for support.

“We have to go,” he murmured against her shoulder.

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you have a bag ready?”

She pointed to her bag, which she’d set on the floor by the couch. “My walk-of-shame rescue pack is ready to go.”

He picked the bag up and held her hand. “Let’s go then. I want to be sure you get to use it.”

Karen couldn’t contain her awe as she walked up the stairs of the Andrew Mellon Auditorium. With its limestone façade and terra-cotta-tiled roof, it resembled a museum—or a place where people conducted important business—and it intimidated the hell out of her. Inside, however, the event organizers had transformed the austere space, projecting a starry night sky onto the walls and vaulted ceiling, and filling the space with flowers and greenery.

Mark held her hand and led her to the outer edge of the massive room. She didn’t know anyone here except Mark and that fact alone made her nervous. “How long do we have to stay?”

He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand. That squeeze comforted her in a way that his words couldn’t. It said he was there for her. “I’ll make the rounds. Then we’ll have dinner, listen to the awards, and leave.”

She stared up at him. “Were you
trying
to be helpful? That sounds like the whole night to me.”

He grinned and tugged her toward the center of the room. “You’ll be fine.”

A mountain of a man in a midnight blue tuxedo slapped Mark on his back. “How are you, Mark?”

“Just fine, Baxter.”

Mark pulled her against him. “This is Karen Ramirez. A friend of mine.”

Baxter gave her a friendly smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Karen. You look lovely tonight.”

Karen shook off her shyness and returned his open smile. “A pleasure to meet you, too. How do you know Mark?”

“Mark and I worked together, before he jumped ship with Ethan. It was a smart move. I left the company six months later.”

Mark covered his mouth and leaned toward Karen, pretending to whisper. “Don’t let the muscles fool you. The guy’s brilliant. But don’t tell him I said that. His head’s too big already.”

Karen relaxed once she realized neither man took himself too seriously.

“Congrats on the award, Bax,” Mark said.

Baxter looked down at his toes. “Thanks.”

Karen marveled at the fact that this big, beautiful man shied away from the attention. “What kind of award are you getting?”

Baxter’s face lit up. “The Vanguard in Education Award.”

“Baxter designed a program for online education that will allow grade schools in the same district to plan and conduct virtual classes together,” Mark explained.

Baxter chimed in. “It’s not the first of its kind, but I’ve tweaked the software to make the chat rooms and messaging functions user-friendly for kids in grade school.”

“I’ve seen a demo, and it’s impressive,” Mark told her.

Karen couldn’t help noticing the pride in Mark’s voice. “How is it different from other virtual-learning systems?”

Both men’s eyes widened, and she laughed. “I’m a recent college graduate, gentlemen. A quarter of my classwork in my senior year happened online.”

Baxter jumped into a detailed description of the program—perhaps
too
detailed—until a woman joined them and disrupted Baxter’s flow.

“Well, well. If it isn’t tall, dark, and disinterested in the flesh,” the woman said to Mark.

Karen glanced at him, expecting to see annoyance flash across his face, but his eyes shone with merriment instead.

“Hello, Symone,” Mark said.

Karen gawked at the woman who returned Mark’s stare with a wry grin. Sun-kissed corkscrew curls surrounded an arresting face dominated by high cheekbones and full lips. Her light brown eyes promised that she would be fun to hang around with, no matter how regal her physical appearance. And her tangerine gown complemented her brown skin, ensuring that she’d never fade into the background in the sea of black attire at the gala. Karen was smitten. It was official: she’d now experienced her first girl crush.

Mark shifted to allow Symone into the circle. “Symone, this is Karen Ramirez. A friend of mine. Karen, this is Symone Powell. A friend and colleague. Symone, you remember Baxter, right?”

Mark’s voice held a hint of amusement. To Karen’s surprise, Baxter clenched his jaw, barely suppressed annoyance etched into his face. If Symone noticed his disapproval, she didn’t let on.

Symone smiled at Karen. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Symone used her index finger to inspect Karen’s bracelet. “That’s beautiful.”

Karen hadn’t expected a compliment. “Thank you. It was a gift from my sister.”

Symone angled her head and assessed her. Her gaze traveled over her face, darted to Mark’s, and settled again on Karen. “You’re beautiful, dear. And young.”

In that instant, the tone of the encounter threatened to change. Karen braced herself for an insulting remark, the champagne roiling in her stomach and making her queasy.

“I didn’t realize Mark and I have that in common—an appreciation for young and beautiful people, that is.”

Mark laughed. “You’ve elevated it to an art form, Symone.”

Karen expected that Symone would make a stinging remark at her expense, but she needn’t have worried. Symone meant to tease, and Mark was her target.

Symone smirked, and she and Mark exchanged playful looks.

“It’ll be her downfall, too,” Baxter added.

Symone’s nostrils flared, but she held her tongue. The tension between Symone and Baxter blanketed the small space. Mark must have picked up on it, too, because he moved closer to Karen and gave her hand another squeeze.

A handsome young man strode toward them with two champagne flutes in hand. His dark brown skin gleamed, its smoothness the perfect setting for his strong facial features.

Symone followed his approach. “Ah. There’s one of the young and beautiful people now. He’s blessed with plenty of stamina, too.”

Baxter cleared his throat. “Karen, would you like to join me on the dance floor?”

She glanced at Mark, whose gaze focused on a point beyond Baxter’s shoulder. “Sure. I’d love to.”

Baxter placed his hand at the small of her back and ushered her away. Issues. These people had issues.

Symone pinned him with an assessing gaze. “She’s lovely, Mark.”

Mark watched Baxter and Karen on the dance floor. “She is.” Baxter spoke into Karen’s ear, and she laughed. It didn’t worry him, though, because he knew Baxter’s only weakness was the woman standing next to him.

Symone raised her champagne glass to the air and inspected its color. “Is she temporary?”

Mark hated the question. It cheapened what he and Karen shared despite the incontrovertible fact that the honest answer was yes. So he dodged the question altogether. “It’s nothing like that.”

Symone turned to her companion, who seemed content to do nothing more than serve her needs. “Bryce, I’d prefer wine. Could you get me a glass of Merlot instead?”

Bryce bowed. Yes, he actually bowed as though Symone were his queen. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

With Bryce out of earshot, he turned to Symone. “Is he in training?”

Symone grinned. “He is. And coming along nicely, I might add.”

He’d known Symone several years. When he’d served as the company’s top financial advisor, Symone had been his counterpart at a technology company in Alexandria. They’d become fast friends after attending an executive retreat two years ago. Much to his regret, he’d introduced her to Baxter before he realized Symone had no use for men with their own opinions.

“Do you think you’ll ever tire of these temporary liaisons?”

“Eventually, sure. But for now I’m doing their future wives a favor. I have my say. They obey. We play, and then I send them on their way.”

“Spoken like a true Kanye West wannabe.”

Symone burst out laughing and pushed his shoulder. “You’re such an ass.”

“And you love me for it.”

She returned her attention to Karen and Baxter as they continued to dance. A line appeared between Symone’s brows. Mark suspected it was prompted by Baxter’s presence, not Karen’s. “It’s okay to not be serious about someone, Mark. Just don’t send mixed signals. That’s how people get hurt. You don’t want to hurt her, do you?”

Mark shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got it under control, Symone.”

Just then, Karen’s gaze met his, and she smiled. He lifted his champagne glass to his lips, doing his best to ignore the slight tremble in his hands. Well, maybe he didn’t have it under control. But he planned to fix that soon.