Fast & Hard (The Fast 1)

I sneak a hand behind me and run my fingers over a sleeping Lennox, up his muscular thigh, and I shutter my eyes in relief when I feel the cotton of his boxer briefs. “Keep going, a little higher,” his deep, gravelly morning voice murmurs into the back of my head and he moans as he pulls me by my waist back into his impressive length. Everything about this man is rock hard, every sculpted inch.

Except, what he did last night. There was a softness inside of him.

“Did we…” I start, afraid of the answer. If I don’t remember the first time I had sex with this glorious specimen of a man, I am going to regret it more than any of the scenes I caused last night.

“You’d remember if I fucked you, love.” So smooth and confident, a touch arrogant, but given the girth of what I feel in my backside right now, maybe it’s well earned.

He releases his hold around my body and rolls onto his back, stretching and taking up half of the king-sized bed. I pull the sheet up around my chest and sit up against the multitude of down pillows lining the headboard. The suite is exquisite. Rich fawn walls, cream and leather sofas, and purple orchids on mahogany end tables bring pops of color to the luxurious space.

I suck down the Powerade, the artificial cherry flavor replenishing much needed electrolytes and quenching my cottonmouth. I need to do damage control, figure out how bad the fallout is from my behavior last night. I remember leaving with Lennox, but I have no recollection of how I got into this hotel, naked, and in bed. Over the back of a chair in the attached seating area, I see my mother’s gown, $5,000 worth of Givenchy, and I peer my head at it because it looks ripped down the entire length.

“What happened to my dress?”

“You were stuck and demanded I get it off you ‘right fucking now.’ I obliged.” Lennox says, smirking and running a hand over his bare chest. I have a million and one things I should be doing right now, but I can’t take my eyes off his abs and the trail of dark hair below his belly button.

“And then I just, fell asleep?” I’m so embarrassed.

“No, then you tried attacking me like a rabid bear. Then I put you to sleep.”

“Thank you,” I sigh.

“Again, asshole, not monster, Mallory.”

“You weren’t an asshole last night,” I poke his leg under the covers with my toe. “You didn’t have to do that, you know, the auction.”

“Aye, I know.”

I want to cuddle up against him and lay my head on his broad chest, wrap my hand around his narrow waist, but I don’t know if snuggling is on the table. We have yet to discuss this arrangement and cuddling might be squarely in the girlfriend zone. We’re in the murky inappropriate workplace shagging zone, I think.

“The Maxwell Cooper thing,” he says, scratching his head and twisting his face up oddly.

Oh god, I’d forgotten. Max put us both on the spot and personal stories are already a touchy subject for Lennox. “Sorry about that. You’ve made your stance on the matter clear. No worries.”

I change the subject and wonder what else I’ve forgotten or blacked out. “I need to check my phone. Was it as bad as I remember?” I look all around but don’t see my phone anywhere. I have no clothes nearby to throw on so I try pulling the sheet off the bed to wrap around and take with me.

“I turned your phone off and don’t bother with the sheet,” he yanks it back from me, “already seen it all. Quite lovely, if I may add.”

“Lennox,” I yank the sheet back, “I have no clothes here! Give me your shirt or something, you brute!”

He groans and gets out of bed, giving me a perfect view of his tight ass in his boxer briefs and, on his return trip with his dress shirt from last night, an eyeful of bulge. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip when he sees me staring at him, and watches me slip his dress shirt on in bed. “Stop looking at me like that, I need to shower,” I tell him, rolling up the sleeves.

“I’m just going to dirty you up again,” he argues, and my chest tightens. I’m kind of glad he said it so I know where we stand after last night.

“Awfully arrogant, Mr. Gibbes,” I inch toward the bathroom and then take off in a mad dash as he tries to grab me across the bed.

“Payback, Mallory. Payback!”

My reflection in the bathroom mirror is enough to frighten the dead. I have raccoon eyes, my hair looks like a woodland creature made a nest in it. “Where is my phone?” I call through the bathroom door as I start scraping last night’s makeup off my face with a washcloth. I’m picturing all the nasty messages from my family that await me, but I’m more worried about any harm I may have created for Lennox.

“You won’t be needing it today,” he calls back.

I mumble to myself thoughts of strangling him while I loot the Four Seasons vanity kit and brush my teeth. If photos of me drunk and hanging all over Lennox come out, Sandra is going to can my ass. I most certainly do need my phone today.

I pop out of the bathroom to demand he grow up and return my phone but he’s no longer in bed. He’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, sporting a raging hard-on, and he’s looking at me like a lion about to take down a gazelle.

“Lennox,” I cock my head at him, “give me my phone.”

He raises one finger and motions for me to come hither.