Ruthless Rival

"Is it too much?"

"It's beautiful." I lay the lingerie on the bed. Turn to Simon. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." His eyes fill with an intoxicating mix of pride, desire, affection.

The word rises in my throat.

Is this love?

I don't know. But it's something. Maybe even everything.

Fuck. I'm in so far over my head it's not even funny.

"There are pajamas too," he says.

"Purple silk?"

"Of course."

Of course. Because it suits me. Because it's regal and sexy, and he wants to fuck me and invite me into his bed.

For sex, yes.

And everything else too.

"I have something else first." He pulls his cell from his pocket. Taps a few buttons.

A speaker in the corner plays a familiar introduction.

A song from high school.

Played at every dance.

Slow, soft, romantic.

"Too much?" he asks again.

"Only if you're going to ask me to change into that lingerie now."

"After." He sets his cell on the end table. "We've never danced together."

"You've never asked."

"Let's change that." He offers his hand. "May I?"

I take his hand. Try to recall dance position.

One hand in his.

The other on his upper back.

He places his hand on the small of my back.

"This is a waltz," he says.

"Spoiled rich boy."

"I'm good at it."

"You're good at everything."

"Not everything." He presses his forehead to mine.

Warmth floods my body. Affection. Then the heat of desire.

I need him in every way I can have him.

"Do you know how to follow?" he asks.

"No. But I can try."

"We keep the waltz rhythm. But I set the steps. Guide you gently." He presses his palm into my lower back, pushing me forward as he steps backward.

Then the reverse.

Right to left. Left to right.

"We can start with a box step." He shifts forward.

I step back a little slowly. And not at all in time with the music.

But he's patient. Guides me through the next step until we're back at the start.

The second time, I get it a little better.

The third, I really have it.

There's something soothing about the steady pattern.

Every time, I ease into it.

My thoughts slip further away.

My body responds to his.

I follow his lead.

The song fades into the next. Another oft-played slow song.

"Did you pick these?" I melt into his movements.

"It was Danielle's suggestion. She asked if I needed music, to set the mood."

"When she decorated the room?"

He nods. "She went on about slow jams. I have a playlist."

"Simon Pierce fucking to sultry slow jams?"

"We'll see."

My stomach flutters. "I usually don't play music."

"Me either."

"But with Opal—"

He nods. "Now?"

"Now." He releases me, finds his cell on the end table, switches the song.

A steady rhythm fills the room. Soft, breathy vocals. I don't recognize the song—I'm not great with music either—but it's undeniably sexy.

"Perfect."

He motions to the lingerie on the bed. "Do you want to try it?"

"I do."

"I'll give you a minute."

"Help with this first." I turn. Pull my hair from my neck so he has access to my zipper.

He presses his lips to the back of my neck. Soft. So soft I can barely feel it.

He pulls the zipper down slowly. Traces the line of my spine back up to my neck with that same feather-light touch.

"Five minutes." He presses his lips to my neck again. "I'll knock once."

I nod. Wait for him to slip out of the room.

The door closes softly.

I slide out of my gown and shoes.

A million thoughts flood my mind.

Then I slip into the lingerie and they disappear.

It's my size—how the hell did he know—and it's perfect.

Sexy. Classy. Gorgeous.

My heart thuds against my chest.

My stomach flutters.

My toes curl.

My entire body is buzzing. Lust or love?

I'm not sure.

I only know I need him. All of him. As much as I can have.

The bra and panty are gorgeous, but the robe is better.

I do away with the set. Slip into the purple silk.

It's gorgeous. A gown out of an old Hollywood movie. Almost demure enough to be a dress. Except for the ease of removal.

Simon was right.

It's regal, powerful, sexy.

Is that really how he sees me?

As someone with as much authority as he has?

Someone as commanding?

It's different.

He's a man.

He's white.

He's from the right family.

But it's the same too.

We're both executives. Experts in our fields. People who know how to take control.

He sees me. He really sees me.

The vulnerable parts.

The strong parts.

The ugly and the beautiful—

He sees me, all of me, and he wants me.

It's overwhelming.

He knocks then slips inside.

It's there, in his eyes.

All that affection and desire. For my body, my heart, my mind.

My thighs shake. My knees knock. My toes curl.

I want the same thing. All of him.

"Fuck, Vanessa." He takes another step toward me. Looks me up and down, savoring the sight of me. "You are a queen."

I am.

That really is how he sees me.

How he makes me feel.

It's overwhelming.

Terrifying.

Completely intoxicating.

I turn toward him, but I let him come to me.

He moves with slow steps.

Closer and closer.

Until he's close enough to touch.

I look up at him. Wrap my hand around his wrist. Bring his hand to the delicate tie holding the sides together.