One Night with the CEO (14 page)

I
n a fit of anxiety over their upcoming move to the Maryland suburbs, Gracie and Ethan had asked Mark, Karen, and Mimi to come to join them for dinner at Gracie’s apartment. So tonight, Karen and Mark’s ability to keep a secret would be tested.

After checking on the roast in the oven, Gracie returned to the dining room and took her seat. “We just wanted to hang out with you guys before we become suburbanites and Ethan buys a minivan.”

Ethan turned to Mark, a wide-eyed look of terror on his face. “If you see me in a minivan, shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

Karen should have laughed, but with Mark a few feet away, crawling under the table to hide her distress would have been more appropriate. They’d had sex. Numerous times. Now they sat around Gracie’s dining table pretending they hadn’t explored each other’s orifices.

She welcomed Mimi’s presence. Mimi knew how to dominate a conversation, and Karen had no doubt Mimi would overshare before the night ended.

She glanced at Mark, who fingered the rim of his wineglass with two fingers. Those fingers held such promise. He glanced at her, and they froze on the glass. He turned his body toward Gracie and Ethan.

Mimi slapped her hand on the table. “Oh my God. I almost forgot. I
have
to tell you about my dream last night.”

Everyone straightened and listened.

“Okay. So in the dream, I’m having some sort of identity crisis. At first, I’m not exactly sure what it is, but it’s clear that I’m confused about my feelings about someone. Two women from my work take me to a bar. As I wait for the bartender to take my order, I realize that the bar is filled with nothing but women.”

As though mirror images of each other, Mark and Ethan sat up and gave Mimi their undivided attention.

Mimi guffawed. “I know, right? So anyway, the setting changes and all of a sudden I’m in the desert, looking like Harrison Ford in one of those Indiana Jones movies. I mean, I’m wearing a fedora and a leather jacket and everything. And I’m searching for something but then I fall into a trap and it’s dark and dingy and I have to light a match to see what’s in the cave with me.”

Gracie scooted her chair closer. “Oh, no. Snakes, right?”

Mimi shook her head. “No. That’s just it. I light the match, and when I can finally see, there’s nothing but naked men around me. And I deliver that line like I really can’t stand the thought of having all these penises around me.” Mimi leaned forward and sneered. “Dicks. Why did it have to be dicks?”

Gracie’s shoulders shook with laughter while Ethan and Mark grinned at each other.

Karen snorted. “Oh, Mimi. Don’t change. Ever.”

Mimi batted her eyelashes and basked in the praise. “So maybe I’m a lesbian?”

Gracie groaned. “Dreams typically aren’t that literal, Mimi. Did you have a fight with your boss again?”

Mimi pondered the question. “Now that you mention it, I did. The day before.”

Gracie rose from her chair. “Well, there you go. Excuse me a minute. I’m going to check on the roast again.”

Mimi took out her phone and swiped it a couple of times. “Karen. Check out my pics in Puerto Rico. The hot Marine is featured prominently.”

Karen stared at the photographs, but her ears focused on Ethan and Mark’s side conversation.

“So you haven’t called her yet?” Ethan asked.

Mark cleared his throat. “Not yet. I’ve been too busy. If I’m going to approach her, I should do it when I’m not slammed at the office.”

Ethan leaned back. “If?”

“Correction. When.”

The finality of his words made her stomach drop. The rational part of her understood that this had been his plan all along. The irrational part of her didn’t appreciate the reminder that he’d soon move on.

The scrape of Ethan’s chair caused her to jump.

“I’m going to check on Gracie.”

Which left Mimi, who stared longingly at the photographs of her three-day freak-a-thon. And Mark, who stared at Karen so intently, she wondered if she’d grown three heads.

“What is it?” she mouthed.

“I want you,” he mouthed in return.

Oh no. Not here.
Definitely
not here.

She shook her head. “Behave,” she mouthed.

He didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he pulled out his own cell phone and tapped away. “Sorry.” He gestured toward his phone. “Work is always with me, unfortunately.”

A buzzing from her purse made her suspicious that he’d sent a text that was not at all related to work. She fished for her phone and nearly choked when she read his text.

Another buzz.

Her phone had turned into a vibrator.

She moaned when she pictured him doing just that. With a huff, she typed a response.

Mimi looked up. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just getting a little hungry.”

She hit Send.

Yet another buzz.

She tapped away.
Calling it foreplay assumes we’ll be having sex tonight. That’s debatable.

Mark laughed as he continued to tap at his phone. After glancing at Mimi, he bowed his head again. “Excuse me. Just something funny going on. At work.”

If Karen could have reached him under the table, she would have kicked the shit out of him. But she’d get her retribution later. “All in due time.”

“What?” Mimi asked.

“Um. Nothing.”

Buzz.

Ethan returned, carrying the roast in a pan that had been blackened by Gracie’s frequent use over the years. Gracie, looking more mussed than she did when she went into the kitchen, carried two serving plates filled with vegetables and yellow rice. “Let’s eat.”

They dug into the meal as they chatted about Gracie and Ethan’s decorating efforts in their new home. Mimi called it a night before dessert, claiming to have a meeting with a client in the morning—on a Sunday.
Right.

Mimi’s absence meant one less person to distract her from Mark’s presence. If they engaged in too much conversation, she suspected her face would reveal more than she wanted to. So she focused on dessert. “What culinary delight did you make for us?”

Gracie brushed off her shoulders. “Flan.”

The family recipe for the caramel custard—which bore a striking resemblance to crème brûlée—had been passed down for four generations. Karen clapped her hands in excitement. “Can I help you get it ready?”

“No need. It’s in the fridge, ready to go.”

Karen gestured for Gracie to get going. “We’re ready, I’d say.”

Gracie rolled her eyes. “I’m going, I’m going.”

When Gracie returned, she served the dessert. Ethan, meanwhile, busied himself making coffee in the kitchen.

“Have you ever tried flan before?” Gracie asked Mark.

He inspected the slice of flan. “Can’t say that I have.”

Karen held back a laugh at the dubious look on his face. “It’s an acquired taste. Kind of like Malta.”

Ethan returned with a tray of coffee mugs, having prepared cappuccinos for everyone.

“You guys are so together. Makes me sick,” Karen said. She sipped her coffee and licked the froth off her top lip. “
Oooo.
This is good. You
really
make me sick.” She peeked at Mark, whose steady gaze centered on her lips.

That look warmed her insides. Made her want to snuggle with him on a couch as he sifted his fingers through her hair. Mark, she was sure, pictured a more explicit scenario.

Payback time.

She took another sip of the cappuccino and a smidge of froth clung to her lower lip. Stretching her body as though she were poised to yawn, she licked her lower lip from end to end. “
So
good. This is
really
good.”

Mark’s gaze narrowed. With a shake of his head, he smiled to himself and scooped a spoonful of the flan. He lifted the spoon to his mouth in slow motion.

She snuck a glance at Gracie and Ethan. The newlyweds fed each other.
Gag.
She returned her attention to Mark, who licked the spoon clean and moaned his appreciation. “Wow. That’s good. So soft on my tongue. Creamy. With a touch of sweetness. I could eat this all night.”

He delivered the description in his seductive baritone. Karen shifted in her seat, a telltale throb signaling that his attempt at retaliation had been far more effective than hers. When she moved, the bodice of her sundress created enough friction to cause her stiffened nipples to ache. She had to get out of here.

“I’m going to head out for the night,” she said as she rose from her chair. Not bothering to wait for anyone’s response, she took her plate into the kitchen and tidied up for Gracie. Her sister came in a minute later. “Leave it, Karen. Ethan and I will take care of it in the morning.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. Mark will drive you home.”

Her head spun. “He will?”

“Of course. It’s not a big deal, right?”

Karen shook her head. “Of course not. I’ll just grab my purse.”

A few minutes later, she and Mark walked out of Gracie’s apartment.

“Bye, you two,” Gracie called after him.

Karen rushed down the stairs. Mark followed close behind. So close the heat emanating from his body warmed her skin. She reached for the doorknob, but he pulled her back into the vestibule and maneuvered her against the wall.

Her body melded to his as he swooped down for a kiss. Their lips came together with no semblance of finesse. He capped off the kiss by tugging on her bottom lip, and she welcomed the resulting prick of pain. They broke apart and gulped in air, their chests heaving in the aftermath.

“That was torture.” He held her hand and placed it over his crotch. “You did this to me. If we’d stayed one minute longer, I would have taken you in the bathroom.”

His words unleashed a fire that started in her belly and spread everywhere, its hottest spot centered on her core. She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Mark.”

“Yeah, baby.”

“I’m so wet. I don’t think I can wait. I…”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her face within centimeters of his. “Tell me. What do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me. Now.”

His eyes snapped shut. “Hang on.” He reached in his back pocket and produced a condom. Impatient and greedy, she ripped the foil packet from his hands and opened it. He pulled his zipper down and fisted his cock, beads of sweat dotting his nose and forehead. When she rolled the condom on, he threw his head back and slammed his hand against the wall.

She reached for her panties, but he stopped her, pushing them to the side instead. “No time.”

When he pushed inside her, Karen threw her head back and scraped her nails against the wall. He lifted one of her legs and gripped it at the back of her knee. For once, she didn’t care that she was splayed out in a public place. At that moment she only cared about him filling her—to the hilt as he’d promised. And when he did, Karen’s head fell back against the wall, and she squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate on the fullness inside her. She grabbed his waist and braced herself for each fierce stroke, crying out each time he slammed into her.

They moved together at full speed, a push and a pull, a rhythm that alternated between staccato notes and long, continuous ones. Her hands searched for him, her vision clouded by the sensations coursing through her. She snaked her hand around the nape of his neck and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his head back so she could suck on the skin below his jaw. Within seconds, his muscles tightened under her hands, as though her touch had stretched his body to its breaking point. Never severing their connection, he bent his knees slightly, lifted her against the wall by her butt, and drove upward.

Karen used her hand to muffle the scream that bubbled at the back of her throat. Over and over he plunged, his mouth inches away from hers, his hooded gaze focused on her face. “Touch yourself, sweetheart.”

In a haze, she moved her hand to her clit and teased herself, skating over the slick flesh several times before pressing her fingers against it. She rubbed slow and hard, teetering on the edge, her toes curling in her shoes.

“That’s it, baby,” he said against her ear. “Rub your clit for me.”

“Oh, God. I’m tingling everywhere.”

She pressed harder. He stroked deeper. She was
so
close, she wanted to scream in frustration. Mark’s thrusts stretched her, his cock filling her completely and leaving no space untouched. Karen savored the sensation of fullness.

They came within seconds of each other, their moans and grunts mingling and echoing in the cavernous space.

Karen regained her equilibrium and surveyed her surroundings. She’d just had sex against a wall in the vestibule of her sister’s apartment building. Mark was definitely a bad influence on her. Even worse, she couldn’t muster enough energy to do anything about it.

A
week after the wall banging, the fun times came to a grinding halt.

As she paced the length of Mark’s master bathroom, Karen fought the urge to puke. Dammit. A rush of heat blasted her face, and she fanned herself in an unsuccessful attempt to wave it away.

Oh, God. She was so freaking hot.
The promise of an ice cold shower tempted her. Would Mark mind if she jumped in fully clothed? Probably not. But if she did that, he’d think she was crazy. Okay, the next best thing would be to douse her face in cold tap water. She pulled her hair back and bent over the sink bowl. A few splashes and she’d be as good as new, she told herself. But when she stood, a wave of dizziness attacked her, and she fell flat on her ass.

Mark banged on the door. “Karen? What’s going on?”

She cleared her throat and called out to him, but her vocal chords protested her efforts. A wad of Brillo might as well have been lodged in there. She mangled his name, of course, and struggled to form the words to tell him she was okay. After a few false starts, she rose from the floor and opened the bathroom door.

Mark placed his hands on her shoulders, his gaze cataloging her face. “Karen, look at me. Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “No. I think I have the flu.”

Now that she thought about it, the guy who’d sat next to her in the library a few days earlier had coughed and shivered a lot. She’d assumed he was reacting to the frigid temperature of the room. The possibility that he was sick had never occurred to her, so she’d placed her headphones on her head and continued to study. Who gets sick in the summer anyway? she wondered.
He did, you dumbass.
And now she was sick, too. So much for needing more condoms. What she needed was a sweat rag.

So very sexy. Oof.

Karen woke up in Mark’s bed, an enormous contraption with a black four-poster canopy frame and a mattress covered with sumptuous midnight blue sheets.

She lifted the sheet. Mark had removed her clothes and dressed her in one of his oversized T-shirts. It smelled clean and fresh, just like him, and she wrapped her arms around herself, comforted by the knowledge that he’d taken care of her.

She sat up. Whoa. Her body ached everywhere. She collapsed against the mattress and listened for any sign that Mark was in the vicinity. But his condo was quiet—eerily so. A glass of water sat on the steel-framed bedside table. She guzzled it.

“Feeling better?” a voice said from the far corner of the room.

Karen jumped—and the sudden movement caused her to spill the water down the front of his T-shirt. “Dammit, Mark,” she said as she wiped the water away. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said as he rose from a chaise lounge partially hidden by a half wall. He emerged from the shadows like an action hero: bare-chested and purposeful, his jeans riding low on his hips. He held a book in his hand.
Definitely
her kind of action hero.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She smacked her lips, her mouth moving as though it were filled with cotton. “Groggy and thirsty. Thanks for letting me crash here. Not sure I would have been able to make it home.”

He cocked his head, and a line appeared between his brows. “Why would you have needed to go home? You already agreed to stay.”

She picked at the nonexistent lint on his duvet cover. “I just figured you’d want to keep clear of me. I’m sick so…”

The crease between his brows disappeared as understanding dawned on his face. “So you thought because we wouldn’t be having sex, I’d want you gone.”

She looked up at him. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he said with a smile. “I was just waiting for your sorry ass to wake up so I could throw you out.” His voice was laced with laughter, which immediately set her at ease.

She grabbed the pillow behind her and threw it at him. “I’ll get out of your hair then.”

His smile turned into a frown. “No. You’ll stay.”

“Why? Because…me…Jane…and you…Tarzan?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because you’re not well. You need to hydrate. You need to eat. And you need lots of rest. You need someone to take care of you.”

She raised her eyebrows, sure that she was setting herself up for premature wrinkles. “And you’re that person.”

“Absolutely,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You doubt my capabilities?”

“In most areas, no,” she said as she glanced at his crotch. “To nurse me back to health? Yes.”

“Well, I plan to show you that your doubts are unfounded. I’m working from home the next few days, until you’re feeling better. Get used to me taking care of you. I’ll be doing it twenty-four/seven until you’re well.”

The thought of him taking care of her twenty-four/seven made her giddy inside, but she was so freaking exhausted she couldn’t even smile. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck. Excuse me while I sleep for the rest of the week.”

“Wait,” he said as he picked up her cell phone from the nightstand. He handed it to her. “Can you text Gracie and let her know you’re okay?”

“Sure.”

She sent Gracie a quick text letting her know she wasn’t feeling well and would be hibernating a few days.

Gracie responded immediately asking if she needed anything, to which she replied that she was all set with soup and ice cream. Before she closed her eyes, she caught the view of Mark’s jean-clad butt as he left his bedroom. She groaned. The flu might not kill her, but that man’s ass would certainly be the death of her.

She awoke to the smell of bacon. So this was heaven, huh?

For the first time since she’d been felled by the flu, she examined her surroundings. He’d decorated his bedroom with utility in mind. The furniture consisted of just four items: the bed, the chaise lounge in the far right corner, and the bedside tables. And the silk drapes blocked any sunlight from entering the room. He slept in this room, perhaps read in it from time to time, but it revealed nothing about the man who owned this home. She found that strange. And sad.

He padded into the room barefoot, a silver tray in his hands. “Good morning. I have bacon, toast, and a scrambled egg for you. Think you’re up for it?”

She nodded vigorously and rubbed her hands together. “I’m starving.” He placed the tray on her lap, and she inspected it with greedy eyes. “You made all this?”

“Absolutely.” He paused. “Not.”

She stared at him. “Personal chef, eh?”

“She comes in twice a week to make meals and put them in the freezer. She made this breakfast at my special request.”

“Thank you,” she managed in between chews of the bacon.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. My throat is sore.”

“I have tea and honey for that.”

“And my body still aches. But I’m not hot.”

“Your fever broke last night, hence the tank top.”

She looked down at her clothing and wrinkled her nose. “I need a shower stat.”

“Yes, yes, you do,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

She spied a chair filled with various items. “What’s all this?”

“I got you a few things. A robe. I went with pink, but if you hate it, I can arrange to get it in white. A few magazines. I had no idea whether you like fashion magazines or news magazines, so I got you a few different ones.”

She pointed at a textbook. “What’s that?”

“So I figured you might want to use this time to brush up on anatomy. First-year med students have to take that class, I gather. You’ll be dissecting a cadaver, right?”

She lost her appetite at the thought and set the last strip of bacon back on her plate. “Yes.”

“This Netter book seems to be the gold standard.”

The gesture truly overwhelmed her. She was used to her family doing thoughtful things for her, but a man had never purchased anything for her simply because he wanted to. Her breath hitched before she could express her gratitude. “Mark. That’s perfect. And Netter is on my book list. It was out of stock when I tried to purchase it.”

“I’m glad it’ll be useful.” He placed his hands in his jeans pockets. “So I’ve got a conference call at ten. Will you be okay on your own?”

She lifted the glass of orange juice to her lips and gestured for him to hand her the anatomy book. “I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll study. Don’t worry about me.”

He stared at her for a few seconds; any more than that would have taken them to awkward town. With a shake of his head, he handed her the book, and then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

She fell back against the mattress and hugged her pillow. Soon, she’d start medical school, and there’d be no looking back after that. Her attention was a precious thing, and she had none to spare for a relationship. Still, a part of her wished they could continue what they’d started, without defining their relationship or placing any limits on where it would go. And that scared her.

She’d told him not to worry about her. There was no need, really, because she had enough worries to cover them both.