Chapter 11
Her briefcase clanged loudly against the glass foyer table upon impact. She immediately began tugging at her jacket that had felt unbearably constraining for the past hour. Her stress levels had reached new heights to the point where even the act of hanging a jacket hit her as a chore. After throwing it on a nearby sofa, she stopped, placed her hands on her face, and rubbed her eyes, but nothing, she realized, was going to calm her irritated mood.
Roman appeared from the bedroom with a glass of wine. He stood only a few inches away, but she was so lost in thought, she didn't even notice him approaching. "Hey," he said softly, extending the wine glass in her direction. She jumped, slightly startled.
"Oh, hi," she said in a tired voice. "I forgot you were here."
"I'm going to try my best not to let that one deflate my ego too much," he remarked with a smile. He knew she always liked when he came back with a smart comment to counteract her own. Afterall, he knew the purpose of her unmerciful wit and cutting remarks. She had become so quick and executed them so effortlessly that he knew this was a method of defense she'd been using for longer than she could probably even remember. She grabbed the glass from his hand without so much as cracking a pity smile at his poor, attempted humor.
"Are you tired already?" he asked. "You slept for almost half the plane ride."
The wine glass met her mouth and she took a large, unladylike shot of it. "No, I'm not necessarily tired, not in the traditional sense of the word. This company can just be unbelievably overwhelming sometimes." Kicking off her shoes, she slumped down in a nearby leather chair.
"Kate Roberts is overwhelmed by her job? I guess I've seen everything now," he said, standing above her. He pulled her to her feet by the hand, sat in her chair, then pulled her back down onto his lap. She took another swig of her drink, placed it on the table next to them, and laid her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. His hand rested on her lower thigh, which was undeniably cold.
"Did something happen?" he asked in a concerned tone.
She sighed. "No, nothing specific. It was just one of those days when you're just inexplicably bothered by where you are and what you're doing. I just wanted to leave, and I felt---well, somewhat bad for leaving you here by yourself."
"I don't need to be entertained every second of the day. I was fine. Once I figured out how to work the TV, I watched some of that, and I ordered room service. Would you believe this place charges eight dollars for a glass of orange juice?"
She picked her head up, looked at him, and laughed slightly. Maybe it wasn't the most entertaining of stories, but with the day she'd had, even the most simple of anecdotes could amuse.
The light subject matter that followed helped lift her spirits and worked towards the process of forgetting deadlines and reports and expectations. She was grateful to him for working such magic, and was soon inspired and enthused to return the favor. She quickly rose from the chair and brushed a hand over his side of his neck that sent chills down his arm.
"Where are you going?" he asked curiously.
She slightly turned on her way to the bedroom, giving him a backwards glance of seduction. "I've got to get out of this suit. I'll be right back." The latter portion of that statement rolled off her tongue in such a deep whisper, he couldn't help but tense up in anticipation for her return.
She emerged in a lace slip so tight it could've been considered second skin. It fell indecently high on her leg, and the straps had fallen down around her shoulders where her hair was also freed to fall. She slinked over to the wet bar, grabbed a cherry from the jar on the counter, and quickly bit it off its stem.
When she finally reached where he was sitting, an overwhelming urge to stand and quickly satisfy all primal urges soon swept over him, but he stayed seated, and she was soon straddling his lap, unbuttoning his dress shirt halfway down. She reached her hands part way into his shirt and lightly scraped her nails along the upper areas of his chest and neck. Leaning in at an urgent speed, she kissed him, and she tasted as arousing as she looked. The cherry flavor lingered in her mouth, and he cracked a half smile realizing just how good she was at making a man feel unable to die without touching her first.
His hands ran along her back, up past the lace and into her hair, but as soon as his fingertips grazed her skin, she flinched, grabbed his hands and linked them with her own, then pulled him up out of the chair towards the bedroom. This wasn't the first time he'd felt hints of nervousness protrude from her controlling bedroom behavior. As consumed with passion as he was at that moment, he still couldn't help but wonder if she would ever get past her gun shyness with men. Would he inevitably be the one to break her oldest habit or would he just become, in the end, another notch on her bedpost?
As she reached to release his belt, he moved far enough out of the way of her hands that she raised her head to give him a confused look. He held her face in his hands, and gazed at her intensely. "Hey, I love you." She looked away immediately, which he took as a bad sign. He had said those words to her once before, but was still waiting for the day when she would return them. His heart sank when he realized today wouldn't be that day.
Her briefcase clanged loudly against the glass foyer table upon impact. She immediately began tugging at her jacket that had felt unbearably constraining for the past hour. Her stress levels had reached new heights to the point where even the act of hanging a jacket hit her as a chore. After throwing it on a nearby sofa, she stopped, placed her hands on her face, and rubbed her eyes, but nothing, she realized, was going to calm her irritated mood.
Roman appeared from the bedroom with a glass of wine. He stood only a few inches away, but she was so lost in thought, she didn't even notice him approaching. "Hey," he said softly, extending the wine glass in her direction. She jumped, slightly startled.
"Oh, hi," she said in a tired voice. "I forgot you were here."
"I'm going to try my best not to let that one deflate my ego too much," he remarked with a smile. He knew she always liked when he came back with a smart comment to counteract her own. Afterall, he knew the purpose of her unmerciful wit and cutting remarks. She had become so quick and executed them so effortlessly that he knew this was a method of defense she'd been using for longer than she could probably even remember. She grabbed the glass from his hand without so much as cracking a pity smile at his poor, attempted humor.
"Are you tired already?" he asked. "You slept for almost half the plane ride."
The wine glass met her mouth and she took a large, unladylike shot of it. "No, I'm not necessarily tired, not in the traditional sense of the word. This company can just be unbelievably overwhelming sometimes." Kicking off her shoes, she slumped down in a nearby leather chair.
"Kate Roberts is overwhelmed by her job? I guess I've seen everything now," he said, standing above her. He pulled her to her feet by the hand, sat in her chair, then pulled her back down onto his lap. She took another swig of her drink, placed it on the table next to them, and laid her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. His hand rested on her lower thigh, which was undeniably cold.
"Did something happen?" he asked in a concerned tone.
She sighed. "No, nothing specific. It was just one of those days when you're just inexplicably bothered by where you are and what you're doing. I just wanted to leave, and I felt---well, somewhat bad for leaving you here by yourself."
"I don't need to be entertained every second of the day. I was fine. Once I figured out how to work the TV, I watched some of that, and I ordered room service. Would you believe this place charges eight dollars for a glass of orange juice?"
She picked her head up, looked at him, and laughed slightly. Maybe it wasn't the most entertaining of stories, but with the day she'd had, even the most simple of anecdotes could amuse.
The light subject matter that followed helped lift her spirits and worked towards the process of forgetting deadlines and reports and expectations. She was grateful to him for working such magic, and was soon inspired and enthused to return the favor. She quickly rose from the chair and brushed a hand over his side of his neck that sent chills down his arm.
"Where are you going?" he asked curiously.
She slightly turned on her way to the bedroom, giving him a backwards glance of seduction. "I've got to get out of this suit. I'll be right back." The latter portion of that statement rolled off her tongue in such a deep whisper, he couldn't help but tense up in anticipation for her return.
She emerged in a lace slip so tight it could've been considered second skin. It fell indecently high on her leg, and the straps had fallen down around her shoulders where her hair was also freed to fall. She slinked over to the wet bar, grabbed a cherry from the jar on the counter, and quickly bit it off its stem.
When she finally reached where he was sitting, an overwhelming urge to stand and quickly satisfy all primal urges soon swept over him, but he stayed seated, and she was soon straddling his lap, unbuttoning his dress shirt halfway down. She reached her hands part way into his shirt and lightly scraped her nails along the upper areas of his chest and neck. Leaning in at an urgent speed, she kissed him, and she tasted as arousing as she looked. The cherry flavor lingered in her mouth, and he cracked a half smile realizing just how good she was at making a man feel unable to die without touching her first.
His hands ran along her back, up past the lace and into her hair, but as soon as his fingertips grazed her skin, she flinched, grabbed his hands and linked them with her own, then pulled him up out of the chair towards the bedroom. This wasn't the first time he'd felt hints of nervousness protrude from her controlling bedroom behavior. As consumed with passion as he was at that moment, he still couldn't help but wonder if she would ever get past her gun shyness with men. Would he inevitably be the one to break her oldest habit or would he just become, in the end, another notch on her bedpost?
As she reached to release his belt, he moved far enough out of the way of her hands that she raised her head to give him a confused look. He held her face in his hands, and gazed at her intensely. "Hey, I love you." She looked away immediately, which he took as a bad sign. He had said those words to her once before, but was still waiting for the day when she would return them. His heart sank when he realized today wouldn't be that day.