“I’m pleased I could make your first time memorable.”
Her heart stopped. “You could tell it’s my first time?” She felt like the most gauche girl alive.
“I come to all of these. I know the regulars, and I’ve never seen you before. I would have remembered,” he added with another buss of warm lips against her cheekbone.
Oh, God, that’s what he meant. She swallowed her relieved laughter, then stiffened as voices approached their cabana.
“We should go somewhere more private.” He gently lifted off her, chivalrously flicking her skirt to cover her as he rolled away.
Everything in her protested, but she sat up on the other side of the narrow bed. As she tucked her breast back into her dress and closed the zipper, his hand curled around her upper arm, hot and commanding, drawing her into tipping back against him.
“I’m on the top floor. Are you closer?”
“I can’t,” she whispered with genuine regret, senses distracted by the musky scent surrounding him and the damp heat of his chest so close to her nose. She tilted her face to find his lips in a soft kiss of reluctant goodbye.
He didn’t move his lips against hers except to say, “Why not?”
“It’s complicated. I shouldn’t have come out at all.” Their breaths mingled. “I hope you will remember me,” she admitted, feeling safe to reveal the bald longing here in the anonymous dark.
“I’ll always wonder why, won’t I?” he said with edgy dismay.
“And then you’ll remember I wanted to keep this unspoiled by real life.”
This time when she pressed her mouth to his, he kissed her back. Hard and thorough, so her heart rate picked up and her arms wanted to snake around his neck.
She wasn’t about to hang around until the lights came on, though. She didn’t want to see his face when he saw hers.
Pulling away, she stood and shook out her skirt, stepped her underwear off her heel and left them on the mat. Quite the cheeky Cinderella move. Her mother would never quit the slut-shaming if she knew.
Tiffany felt no guilt, however, no shame and no embarrassment as she slipped out of the cabana and up the stairs, past the pool and its raging party, toward the elevators and back to her room. Only sensual satisfaction and poignant what-ifs followed her steps.
CHAPTER THREE
RYZARD’S WATCH GAVE a muted beep, reminding him he had a meeting in ten minutes.
Annoyed, he rose from the small table where he’d sat for the last thirty minutes eating a meal he would have preferred to have taken in his room. He swept the breakfast room once more for a certain woman in a mask that made him think of a falcon’s smoothly feathered head. A woman who was both gloriously uninhibited, yet had been so tight, he had feared as he entered her that she would call a halt.
A light sweat broke over him as he recalled possessing her, never having felt so—
He cut short the thought, stung by a dart of shame that he was on the verge of elevating a meaningless hookup past the only woman he would ever love. There was no comparison. Forget it all.
Good thing he hadn’t allowed the petite q to send a message on his behalf. He’d been tempted, but the tight security here did him a favor, preventing him from a weak moment. All he’d had was a description of her mask, but when he had inquired to the nearest petite q, she had assured him she could deliver an invitation to the mysterious woman to join him at breakfast. She couldn’t, however, divulge the member’s name or moniker.
He’d declined, not wanting to look desperate. Not wanting to feel so desperate, but after the blood-chilling thought he’d just had, he didn’t wish to see her again. Their somewhat literal bumping of two strangers in the night was nothing significant. A letting off of steam. If it had seemed particularly intense, that had been leftover adrenaline from the false alarm when the fireworks had exploded. For a second he’d been back in the heat of Bregnovia’s civil war, his life in danger along with the woman in his arms.
Shaking off that terrifying second of not again, he assured himself this urgency to see her again was merely his libido looking for another easy pounce and feed.
That’s why he’d had to force himself to take his time rising and dressing in the cabana last night, despite a nagging desire to hurry. It wasn’t that he’d wanted to catch another glimpse, to actually catch her and convince her to strip down completely and stay with him all night. No, he was merely still horny.
Wondering why she hadn’t stayed was pointless. He’d never know. Everyone at Q Virtus had places to go and people they preferred not to be seen with. Did she know who he was, he wondered?
She hadn’t been wearing a watch that he’d felt. He’d checked his own as she’d left, trying to read her identifier before she had moved out of range, but no luck. Perhaps she’d run off to rejoin her husband or lover.
That thought infuriated him. Waiting to marry Luiza until it was too late was one of his few regrets. When you did make a lifelong commitment, you didn’t break it. If she had...
He refused to dwell on any of it. She was a wet dream and he was awake now. Time to move on. He had an introduction to suffer through—would in fact drag his feet getting there so as to use up most of their time.
Then he would put out feelers for the meeting he really wanted. Someone here would know what was being said in the UN about his country’s chances for recognition. Whatever he had to do to bestow legitimacy on his people, he would. They were his priority. It was Luiza’s dream. He owed it to all of them to stay focused on that.
Not on some easy piece he’d picked up for a few hours of distraction.
* * *
Until the accident, Tiffany had always been fashionably—some would say chronically or even rudely—late. Once she began working, she’d discovered how irritating it was to be on the other side of that. Nowadays she strove to be early, and to that end she followed the directions on her watch, only to come up against yet another set of sliding doors. Rolling her eyes, she watched the timepiece count down how long she’d have to wait until they opened.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, wanting this meeting over with.
She’d almost forgotten it completely and wished she had. Unfortunately, her watch had been returned to her with her breakfast. “It was left in the reception lounge last night,” Julio had said. “You have a message. That’s what the blue light means.”
“It was heavy and men kept coming up to me, saying my watch indicated I was open to being approached,” she complained.
“Excellent feedback on the weight. A woman’s perspective is so valuable for the manufacturers. But please let me show you how to set your Do Not Disturb.”
He’d also shown her how to follow the directions to her meeting.
“Can I wear my mask?” she’d asked, peering at him from behind her feathers while trying to keep them out of her orange juice.
“Of course. Members typically wear their masks the entire time they’re here.”
With her main argument for blowing off the meeting disintegrated, she’d managed only a quiet, “Thanks.”
Biting her thumbnail after Julio left, she’d debated whether to risk leaving her room. What if she saw him?
Heated tingles awakened, hinting at how exciting it could be to bump into him, but she tamped down on the wild feelings. Her behavior last night had been a crazy combination of being away from the stifling proximity of her family and, well, she had been a little drunk on rum, having almost finished her second drink by the time she’d begun dancing.
With a stranger.
Her lover.
A burble of near-hysterical laughter almost escaped her as she walked, thinking of their incredible encounter. Part of her reaction was delight that she had it in her to be that bold and daring. Before the accident she might have fantasized about something like that, but it would never be something she could imagine actually doing. There was no such thing as impulse in her family. The consequences to Daddy’s career always had to be considered.
The rest of her giddiness had a sharply disappointed edge. This was the sort of secret she might share with a close girlfriend, but she didn’t have any. Her friends, some closer than others, had all continued on with their lives during her recovery, living the life she was supposed to have. Hers had stalled and taken a sharp left turn. She would never have much in common with them now except the good old days. That topic just invited pitying stares.
Work was what she had now. A career. She had Paulie’s corporation and men in her life who loved her as a daughter and a sister. Last night had been exciting and fun, but she couldn’t repeat it. What was she going to do? Come to these events every quarter and sleep with a different stranger each time? The alternative, to expose her scars and hope a lover could overlook them, made her shudder in appalled dread.