I frown. Not because I don’t like them, but because there’s the one I slept with the last time I was here.
Me and who knows how many other men in my social circles. We don’t think about that, however. A woman’s gotta work.
“Evening, everyone! Heard the party was in here.” The tall stranger with strawberry blond hair drapes herself across the back of Kathryn and mine’s couch, her experienced eyelashes batting at the both of us. Behind her, the other girl slinks along, refilling glasses and taking her perch in an empty chair between the couches. “To whom do we owe these immense pleasures?”
“These are Mr. Ian Mathers and Ms. Kathryn Alison,” Lana introduces, her wineglass half empty in her hand. “We closed a big deal with them today and are here to celebrate.”
“Ooh, celebrations!” The woman whose breath is going down the back of my neck is smiling. A bit too much. Too flirtatious. If there is such as thing. “Hey, Chelsea, pour these festive people some more drinks. They’re celebrating.”
I exchange a look with the pale blonde Chelsea. She flashes me a familiar smile. Yes, she remembers me.
She’s probably here because we had a good time and wants more of this. And my money.
I tipped her well, all right?
“Call me Judith,” says the chatty one. She extends her hand to both Kathryn and me. She has a firm handshake. “When I heard the lovely Andrews had invited some of their friends up here, I knew I had to stop by and say hello.” That’s code for “I have no other work tonight, so let me try to score here.”
More drinks are poured. The Andrews are comfortably laughing. Kathryn shuffles toward me on the couch, and I don’t think she realizes it. Either way, her hip is now touching mine, and I can smell the perfume in her hair.
Fuck me, I’m getting hard.
Can you blame me? This room is full of pretty women. Not just Kathryn, but Judith, Grace, and Chelsea are all handpicked beauties. Even Lana Andrews is stunning tonight in a body-hugging red dress she kept hidden beneath a black jacket during business today. She’s a master of knowing how to dress up and dress down an outfit.
Five beautiful women. Five sources of frustration, because they are all so very sexual creatures.
Especially Kathryn, who is comfortably next to me, even if she doesn’t realize it.
You don’t understand how much I want to wrap an arm around her and relax into this couch with our drinks. I want to laugh with her, talk about absolutely nothing, and get relaxed enough on alcohol to start romantically touching one another in this hazy atmosphere.
I want to do that, but I don’t know how.
See, Kathryn and I don’t have an established public relationship. Lots of people have guessed there’s something going on between us – like the Andrews – but that doesn’t mean we’re ready to be seen as a romantic pair. As far as the Andrews are concerned, Kathryn and I hookup sometimes. There’s nothing else going on outside of the bedroom.
For all I know Kathryn thinks the same way. So, the last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable by throwing my arm around her or touching her knee in an intimate way. Point really stands when I look at how out of her element she is.
I guess it has to do with all the women, and as far as I can tell, my dear Katie has no interest in women like that.
Too bad.
We’re joined by one last person tonight. Someone I wasn’t really expecting, until Monica Graham helps herself into the lounge wearing a little black dress and ruby jewels in her hair.
I had heard through the grapevine that she still spends most of her weekends here to oversee her business. Which is funny, because a woman as submissive as her isn’t someone you’d peg as a businesswoman. I glance at Kathryn and wonder if she would ever be like that.
Before Monica can spare some words for us, she catches the look I give Kathryn. I don’t like the tiny smile on her face.
Shit.
Shit, shit.
I should have guessed that a woman in her position would have the eyes of a cat. The kind of cat that sees every little detail and knows how to work it to her advantage. She calls Judith and Chelsea over so she can whisper something into their ears. There is nothing subtle in the way they both look at us.
Cute.
Now it’s my turn to lean in toward someone’s ear. Namely, Kathryn’s. “We’re being targeted.” I try to keep my tone wistful.
Kathryn glances at the trio of conspiring women and then at me. “What do you mean? They want to…?”
“They’re businesswomen, and we’re taking up their time. They’re going to try to get into our wallets, darling.”
It’s the first time I’ve called her that in front of other people, although I don’t think anyone has heard.
“Both of us? At the same time?”
There’s only one way to find out. I swing my arm around Kathryn’s shoulders and bring her in for a kiss.
Chapter 18
KATHRYN
What the fuck, Ian!
He’s pushing me into the couch, kissing me, my hand instinctively touching his face as I accept his tongue deep in my mouth.
I don’t realize the implications of what he’s done until he breaks away, settling back into the couch as if he hasn’t done a damned thing.
Now everyone is looking at us. Nobody is shocked, but they are definitely interested in seeing if we continue.
I kind of forgot where we are.
Once my senses return to me, I smack Ian on the leg. “Excuse me, Mr. Mathers.”
A beat passes. Laughter erupts in the room. Ken raises his glass and says, “Cheers,” before gulping the rest of his drink. Grace the mistress falls deeper into his lap and whispers something into his ear. Lana is staring at the girl’s ass.
Behind me, a woman named Judith says that she likes my dress. Another named Chelsea says that she had wondered when she would see Ian again.
See Ian…
Again…
I’m frozen with the unfamiliar sensation of jealousy. I see the way he and this Chelsea woman look at one another. It’s a look of, “Oh, yeah, I fucked you before!”
Except money was involved with these two.
And BDSM.
You know, it’s one thing to know this theoretically. It’s another to see it for yourself.
I shouldn’t be jealous. I have no grounds to be jealous. After all, I wouldn’t be happy if one of my old flames came up and Ian got all alpha male terror on the guy. So, I have no business looking at this Chelsea woman as if she should back the fuck off.
Then I think about how Ian kissed me in front of these people.
Now they all know we’re a “thing.”
“I’ve been doing well, thank you,” Ian says to Chelsea, his arm still wrapped around me. Possessively. This is my woman and I want to make sure you know it. I’m not even wearing my collar. I don’t have it. Ian kept it.
This is too overwhelming. I can’t relax.
I need more alcohol.
Luckily, there is plenty of alcohol here. Every time one glass empties, another fills up, and it’s like I have all the time in the world to use the powers of alcohol to feel more comfortable with the fact that Ian has his hands all over me in front of these people. Some of them total strangers. Some of them work colleagues.
When he’s decided Chelsea has asked him enough questions, he kisses me again, pushing me into the back of the couch with his whisky laden breath overpowering me.
My hand brushes against his crotch. Color me surprised. The guy is getting hard.
I wish he would keep kissing me. Those moments are the only times I feel comfortable here. That is until I get another glass in me and I realize that nobody is paying attention to us.
It’s a party in this small lounge. Lana and Ken are tipsy and flirty, their fingers all over each other, all over Grace, their sexuality oozing like a contagious disease if anyone so much as looks at them - like me. Judith and Chelsea are flirting with anyone who will pay attention to them, and I learn that they’re here to make the party better – and because they have no appointments or clients tonight, so they’re trying to score money elsewhere. Monica is here because the Andrews are two of her biggest investors. Not to mention how much money Ian and I carry together. She picks the gatherings she crashes carefully.