I stared at the picture on his phone. The angle, the way he’d framed my body in the shot—Nathan had a good eye. I did look like art. If he didn’t jack off to that image later, I certainly would.
He came back from the bathroom a minute later with a warm washcloth. He wiped me off quickly, and wasn’t too sweet about it, which I appreciated. I hated it when men got all gentle and careful after sex, as though I were fragile, as though I wanted them to be tender with me. I didn’t like tender sex, as a rule, and I didn’t want tender aftercare.
When he was finished, he tossed the washrag to the floor. I turned around to face him, perching myself on the edge of the drafting table. He was still wearing his shirt, though he’d abandoned his pants completely. His socks were gone now as well, I noticed. He must’ve lost those when I wasn’t looking.
I pulled his shirttail, tugging him closer to me. “Do I get to unwrap the rest of the package?”
He ran his hand through my hair, brushing a long curl out of my face. “I’d like that.”
I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders, revealing an incredible torso with barely an ounce of fat on it and a couple of large tattoos. A three-quarter sleeve tattoo decorated one arm with koi fish and waves in crisp black ink. On his chest on the opposite side of his body was a symbol I didn’t recognize. It looked like a pinwheel of sorts, or a flower with six petals. I studied it, trying to work out its intricacies, trying to figure out exactly what it might mean, and came up empty.
I could always ask, but something about that idea made me uncomfortable.
Instead, I traced my hands up along his firm abs. “You’re a beautiful man, Nathan.”
“My friends call me Nate,” he said with a chuckle.
I almost chuckled with him, because—were we friends now?
Then I remembered what this was. This was the weird part about going home with someone. The part I’d never liked. The part where we started talking to each other, getting to know each other, asking each other personal questions and answering with tidbits of our lives.
It wasn’t that I had anything to hide. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know about Nathan “Nate” Sinclair.
Quite the contrary, there was so much I wanted to know about him. Like why, if he was a millionaire, was he living in such a sparse apartment? Why was there no furniture? Why had he just decided to start going to the Open Door? He’d lived here in New York for a while. Who’d invited him this time? Why hadn’t he been coming before? Why did he have koi and waves tattooed on his arm—what was the significance? And what was the symbol I’d traced with my fingertips?
But for every question I asked him, he would ask one in return. For every question, for every answer, I would get to know him just a little bit more. And he would get to know me just a little bit more. And it would be harder to say that this was just a one-time thing. It would be harder to want this to be just a one-time thing.
And I really, really needed this to be a one-time thing. Before he got attached and things got complicated. Before he wanted parts of me I wasn’t prepared to give.
So I spoke in the language that I knew best, the one that didn’t require commitments and definitely didn’t help grow attachments. I bent forward and licked my tongue around his nipple.
“Careful, Trish,” he said with a hiss. “If you play dirty, I’m going to have to take you to my bed for another round.”
“What the hell are we waiting for?”
A couple of hours later, when I was sure he was asleep, I slipped out of his bed and dressed quietly. I didn’t leave him a note. And I didn’t leave him a shoe because I needed those to get home. Besides, Cinderella only left one behind because she wanted the prince to come find her, and I didn’t want Nathan—or Nate—coming after me.
Did I?
Chapter Six
I’d just opened the office on Monday morning when the elevator doors opened. Out of my periphery, I saw a client walk into the lobby, though my attention was on booting my computer for the day.
“Can I help—” I cut myself off when I looked up and my gaze crashed into Nate’s.
“Mr. Sinclair.” I could barely get air in my lungs. “You don’t have an appointment this morning.”
Had he scheduled something I’d forgotten? The computer still wasn’t on so I couldn’t check.
“Actually, I’m here for you.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.” Just…no. I came around my desk and started to shoo him out of the office. I understood what was going on now—exactly the thing I’d feared would happen. The thing that always happened when I went home with someone.
I came over to him and pointed toward the elevator. “You need to go. You need to go before my boss gets here. I told you I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“I wouldn’t have come here if you had given me any other choice,” Nate said, crossing his arms over his chest. When he did, his biceps bulged just under his suit jacket.
And now that I knew how rugged he was underneath his clothes, how toned, it was hard not to think about it.
So I thought about it, but I tried not to think about it too much. “No choice? What do you mean?”
“I mean you snuck out of my apartment without even giving me your phone number. This was the only way that I knew how to contact you.”
“Or you could not contact me. That was the option I was hoping you would go for.” I pushed on his backside, hoping to get him to walk out of the office as my eyes darted toward the elevator. “You have to get out of here before Hudson gets here. I do not want him to know I slept with one of his associates.”
“You didn’t even say good-bye.” He didn’t budge when I pushed at him. He was so solid, so grounded in his place. “You could have at least left me a note.”
“Like I carry a pen and paper around with me. And what would the note say, anyway?” Had a good time, don’t ever call. See you maybe sometime on a Saturday?
“I don’t know, maybe you could give me your number. Tell me where you live.”
“No way. Off limits. The kink was hot and it was fun, but my space is sacred.”
The elevator dinged and I jumped. Fortunately it was only Norma Anders, the chief financial advisor. I waved with a tight grin, then turned back to Nate and scowled.
“Would you get out of here now?” I hissed.
Nate started moving. Unfortunately, he didn’t head in the direction I wanted him to move. Instead, he casually walked over to my desk and sat on it. “Since I don’t know where else to find you, clearly coming to your place of business was my only option. I’ll stay here until you agree to my demands.”
“Demands!” The doors dinged again, and I jumped again. When I turned, I realized they were just closing from when they had been open before. But the sign above the elevator indicated that it was headed down. Any moment it would be coming up again, and with it would be my boss.
Obviously my demands weren’t going to work with Nate.
No, not Nate. Nathan. I was not his friend. I was not his anything.