Devils contract, p.16
Devil's Contract, page 16
“Which we haven’t been.”
“Until last night,” I correct, tracing the pouty curve of her bottom lip as I fight against the urge to take her mouth—and then taste her nipples, followed by her sweet pussy, just to hear her come again so she’s soaking wet when I bury my cock inside her. Christ, her eyes have that same sultry glaze to them that made her impossible to resist last night and I give in. To the kiss, anyway, but tasting her mouth is fucking dangerous. That sinful little mewl has my dick aching with need, and I know just how easy it would be to shove her thighs apart and fuck her until she screams my name again… but I already know how good the sex is between us.
This morning is about something else, and I want to see if she’ll jump through the hoop.
“Time to get up.” It’s not easy to break the kiss but forcing out the words helps even though I catch her wicked little grin as I lean up beside her. I’m about to ask her about it when I feel her fingers wrap around my shaft and squeeze.
“Seems like you’re already up,” she teases, gliding her fist up and down my length in a move that’s guaranteed to shut my brain down in seconds—so I grab her wrist.
“Nice try, but I said it’s time to get up, and I meant it.” Using the hold on her wrist, I flip Katja onto her stomach and shove the sheets back to land a spank on her perfect ass. Her yelp is sexy as fuck, but I ignore the pleas from my cock and balls to have more fun and shove myself out of bed instead.
“Dex!” she snaps, reaching for the sheets to cover herself again, but I yank them down to the end of the bed. “Stop it! If you want to go eat breakfast, go ahead. I’m going back to sleep. No one gets up this early.”
“I do, which means you are too.” Crossing my arms, I grin when I catch her gaze drifting down my abs to my dick before she quickly lifts her chin to meet my eyes. “If you’re a really good girl at breakfast, I’ll let you touch it again.”
“Ha. Ha.” Katja glares at me and I can see the gears in her brilliant mind turning over the situation in front of her, looking for an out—not that I ever leave her one.
“I’m going to start the shower, and if you’re not in the bathroom in one minute I’m going to come out and get you.” Tilting my head toward the bathroom door, I let my grin spread. “And trust me, princess… You’ll like this morning a lot more if you obey.”
I’m halfway to her bathroom when I hear her scoff.
“Is that what this is all about? You want to see if I’ll still come when you call?”
“Baby, I know exactly how to make you come, and it has nothing to do with a call.” I meant it as a joke, but when I turn around there’s no humor in her face. Dammit. “I’m trying really hard not to be an asshole right now. Can you work with me?”
“Bossing me around isn’t a great way to wake me up, Dex.” Her sassy tone gets under my skin in the way only she can, and I feel my temper flare.
“Jesus Christ, Katja, I simply want to have breakfast with you downstairs like two adults who just spent the night together. What’s wrong with that?”
“In front of everyone,” she adds, her voice still too sassy, and it makes my palm itch to light her ass up, but I push the urge away.
Instead, I drop all the bullshit and go right for the question I’ve been dancing around this whole time. “Do you have a problem being seen with me?”
“Are you planning to humiliate me in the restaurant?” she asks, deftly avoiding an answer.
“I’m planning on eating breakfast with you, because I’m fucking hungry, and I don’t really care if I’m seen with a woman I happen to think is pretty fucking hot.” Spreading my arms wide, I add, “And we might even talk about what happened last night and whether it was as fucking amazing for you as it was for me.”
Her cheeks are a little brighter as the fight seems to drain out of her, the tension in her shoulders melting when she sits up and drags a pillow onto her lap to hide her pink slit. “It was pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” I repeat, lifting my brows.
“Fine, it was fantastic. Better?”
“For now. You can elaborate over breakfast,” I say, grinning at the way her mouth drops open like she might argue, but I’m already throwing open the door to her bathroom. “You have thirty seconds now, princess.”
I’m not sure Katja should be drinking any more coffee. Her hands are already trembling around her mug as she takes another sip. She’s jittery, and her eyes keep darting around the restaurant as she scans and takes mental notes of everyone seeing us together.
I reach out for her hand when she puts the mug down and squeeze it reassuringly. “Relax.”
She swallows hard and looks at our hands but doesn’t break the connection.
There’s that damn word again.
“I’m relaxed. Why wouldn’t I be?” The way her voice trembles would give her away even if her hands weren’t shaking. “I just don’t like being the center of attention, and I feel like all eyes are on us.”
“They are,” I reply with a chuckle, stabbing one of the grilled peppers and a bite of egg with my fork.
“I just prefer to be the one watching, the one taking notes,” she says.
I take a sip of mimosa to wash down the food and nod. “Ah yes, your infamous notebook full of all the dirty details of every power player in New York.” I pause and drink again. “Actually, the world.” Setting my glass down, I glance at the ceiling where many, many floors above us her notebook is hidden somewhere. “I want a peek. What does it say inside?”
She shrugs playfully. “I’ll never tell, and I definitely won’t show you.”
“You don’t have to show me. Just tell me… what does it say about me in there?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She gives a wicked raise of her eyebrows and a smirk, and I want to grab a fistful of her hair and kiss her—before doing a whole lot more to her.
“You really do like playing with fire, don’t you?” I shake my head, suppressing a smile as I point at her food. “Go on, eat your breakfast.”
Katja wrinkles her nose. “I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care. It’s yogurt, fruit, and muesli, not a grand slam. Take a bite.”
“I’m usually not even awake at this hour, and I rarely eat breakfast,” she says, picking up her spoon to push the items around in her bowl without eating any of it. “Is this how you’re always going to be now?”
“You mean giving a shit about you eating? Like the food I ordered for you yesterday that you never even touched?” I shrug. “Yeah. I can be kind of a dick when someone I care about doesn’t bother taking care of themselves.”
Her spoon freezes and it takes me a second to replay the words in my head before I realize why.
“I’m someone you care about? So… does that mean you don’t hate me anymore?” she asks.
“What? I’ve never hated you, Katja. Even when I really, really wanted to,” I reply, setting my fork down to meet her gaze. “Do you hate me?”
In the softest voice she answers, “No. I don’t hate you.”
“Well, then we—”
“I mean, I should hate your twisted, bossy, dominating, and infuriating morning-person self, but I don’t.” The corner of her mouth lifts a little and I find my lips mimicking hers.
“You like me dominating,” I whisper, enjoying the return of the pink to her cheeks. “Admit it.”
“What happened to not humiliating me at breakfast?”
“Do I need to repeat the question louder?”
Her eyes widen. “No. I heard you the first time.”
“Then answer me.”
She hesitates, pushing her spoon through the yogurt in little patterns until she quietly says, “You already know the answer.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Dex.” She snaps my name out in a harsh, exasperated whisper, but I don’t back down.
“I can make a scene if you want me—”
“Yes, okay?” she says, sighing. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” I tease, grinning as she clenches her jaw, a little muscle in her cheek twitching from the effort.
“Yes, I like your… your dominating personality,” she finally whispers, before adding, “Sometimes.”
“Good girl,” I praise quietly, pointing at her bowl again. “Now take a bite before I pull my chair over there and feed you myself.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I grin. “Try me.”
Katja acts like I’m forcing her to eat something disgusting instead of perfectly ripe fruit with organic muesli and pasture-raised, organic, and whatever-the-fuck-else yogurt. I find it more than a little satisfying as she eats three small bites and a whole blueberry before reaching for her water. “Happy?”
“I’ll be happy when you actually make some progress on the bowl, but that’s okay. We have time. Plus, the longer we sit here enjoying each other’s company, the more staff and guests will get the chance to see us,” I say, noting the way her back straightens just a little further, the tension returning. “And we have plenty to talk about anyway.”
"How much do I need to eat?” she asks, glancing around us again.
“Enough.”
“So helpful,” she snarks. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
“Us?” she repeats. “Is there an us?”
“That’s an excellent place to start. I think we proved last night that there are certain aspects of a relationship where we work together well.”
Her blush intensifies, and she takes a bite to avoid responding, which is fine. She needs to eat.
“It’s the other parts that we haven’t really tested.”
“Such as?” she asks without looking up from her bowl.
“I don’t have a list, but there’s something between us. Something far more than just two stubborn people trying to win a battle of wills. Don’t you agree?”
Katja doesn’t answer me as quickly as I would have liked, but she eventually nods. “Yes, but I don’t know how that could ever change.”
“We control that.”
“Exactly.” She sighs, setting her spoon down again to scan the room before finally bringing her gaze back to mine. “We’ve never been able to avoid arguing with each other, or competing, or… whatever all of this has been.”
“But aren’t you tired of playing these games?” I ask. “Because I am. I’m done acting like we’re two generals at war rather than partners with the same goals.”
“I don’t think last night counts as a mutual goal.”
“I mean The Whitney.” Reaching across the table I offer my hand and my heart is racing as I wait for her to slip her hand into mine. I squeeze, brushing my thumb across her skin until she meets my gaze. “We both love this place. It’s home for both of us, and I know we’ll treat her much better if we work together than if we’re on opposite sides.”
“So, business partners?” she asks quietly, and I squeeze her hand tighter in mine when she tries to pull it back.
“I think I’ve made it pretty damn clear I want more than that. The question is if you do.”
“Dex…” She sighs, staring down at her lap, and I feel my stomach tense, threatening to return the omelet I’ve eaten as I prepare for rejection—trying and failing to build up walls inside that might keep the pain out—but after a minute or so I hear the quietest sniffle.
“Look at me.” I manage to keep my voice quiet, but there’s no question it’s a command, and when Katja lifts her head, I can see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes. “I’ve never seen you back down from anything in your entire life, so what the fuck are you running from now?”
“I’m not running.”
“You’re not answering me either.”
“I don’t have an answer. How can you expect me to have one? Yesterday you did… that on the rooftop,” she says, looking around as she avoids using words that would definitely pique someone’s attention. “And before that was the other stuff. And, yes, last night was good, and while you’ve been bossy this morning, you’ve reminded me a lot more of the Dex I used to know… but I can’t… I won’t be treated like that.”
“What if I said I won’t do those things anymore?” I ask, but quickly correct myself by adding, “In public spaces, I mean.”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and release her hand, dropping mine into my lap. “Forget everything else that’s happened. I know that’s hard, but take the money off the table, ignore all of it except what happened last night. If nothing else mattered, would you want to pursue something?”
“Of course, I would, but that’s not—”
“Stop.” Raising my hand, I cut her off so that I can hold onto the ‘maybe.’ It’s not like I’m completely sure about this, I still have questions, doubts… but I also can’t imagine going backward. Not now that I know how perfect she feels in my arms. “Fuck the rest of breakfast. We need to be somewhere we can actually talk.”
“Dex, let’s just—”
“Wait.” I push my chair back and get up, moving to her side of the table to offer my hand once more. “Come up to The Rooftop with me. I got new tiles put in around the hot tub, and I want to go check on the craftsmanship. Plus, we’ll be alone, and even if you don’t want to talk at all, it’s worth it just for the early morning views.”
Katja is thinking again, and while I’ve always respected her brilliant mind, right now I really wish she’d stop overthinking this.
“Please.” It’s not a word I’m accustomed to saying, and I’m not sure if I’ve ever said it to her, which is why I think it actually works.
She stays silent, but she takes my hand and moves her napkin to the table as I help her up and lead her toward the elevators. We don’t speak the entire way up to The Rooftop, and as the doors open, I gesture for her to exit first.
“You redid the floors,” she says as we take a few steps out of the elevators. “I didn’t notice yesterday.” She’s looking the tile over, her expert eye examining every inch. I hadn’t planned on this being some kind of inspection, but I should have known better. When it comes to design, hotel decor, and class, no one is better at it than Katja, which is why she shocks the hell out of me when she says, “They look really nice. You always did have good taste.”
“You think I have good taste?”
“Aesthetically, yes. It’s always been your taste in friends that was lacking.”
Ouch.
“Taking the gloves off already?” I walk past her toward the hot tub, but the clicking of her heels as she follows gives me a sliver of hope.
“That came off harsher than I meant it. I was trying to make a joke.”
“Hilarious.”
She grabs my arm and pulls me to a halt, turning me toward her. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m really not a morning person, and that was rude. I want to see what you’ve done up here.”
“Okay.” I hold out my hand again and can’t ignore the thrill I feel when she willingly slips her hand into mine and steps closer to me as I walk her around the remodeled items. The best part of it is that Katja really cares. Z never wants to listen to my opinion on tile materials or textures or why colors matter in a space, but Katja isn’t just willing to listen—she wants to hear it. The tension between us fades as she asks questions, makes suggestions, and even compliments a few more of my ideas.
We end the walk around the rooftop near the bar, and I know both of us are thinking about what happened behind it less than twenty-four hours ago.
“We’re still waiting on the new countertop for the bar, but that had to be imported from Rome and it’s held up on some freight right now,” I say, avoiding the memory of her exposing herself for me by focusing on the transformation I’ve almost completed. I feel proud as I look around. The place has never looked better.
“Your guests are going to love it up here,” she says, but I notice her gaze lingering on the table where my ‘friends’ were yesterday, and some of the warmth has leached out of her tone.
“Ah, right. My guests that are a side effect of my poor taste.”
“I told you I didn’t mean it like that, it was just a—”
“But you did,” I interrupt, noting how she quickly avoids my eyes. “I think we should be honest with each other, don’t you?”
“Let’s not do this right now.”
“This is why we came up here. We’re all alone, there’s no one spying, no one watching, so you don’t have any excuses,” I say, facing her even though she’s looking at the skyline instead of me. “We have to be honest with each other, and there’s no time like the present. I’ve laid my cards on the table, and I think I’ve made it pretty fucking clear that I think we have something here. I think we could be great together… do you disagree?”
“I have no idea what I think.”
“Then let’s figure it the fuck out. We’ve both done some fucked up shit to each other, but you admitted you enjoyed last night. You admitted you like my dominating personality—”
“Sometimes,” she inserts.
“Right,” I acknowledge, blowing out a breath as I drop my hand on the bar and try to get my words together. “My point is that I don’t want to be at war with you anymore. I don’t want this massive divide between us. It’s not good for The Whitney, and it definitely isn’t good for us.”
“You’re talking about your… business… up here,” she says, and the hint of disgust in her tone makes me clench my fist.
“That is exactly what I’m talking about, Katja. You’re still looking down on me and what I do, even though it’s my money that’s keeping you and The Whitney afloat. Do you really not see the blatant hypocrisy in that?”
“You know I wouldn’t have taken your money—or done any of the things I’ve had to do for it—if I had any other option that wouldn’t hurt this hotel.”
It feels like I’ve been slapped, and all those lingering thoughts that made me feel hesitant come roaring back. “After everything I’ve done to improve The Whitney, you still see me as trash, don’t you?”
“Dex…” She groans, leaning back against the bar as she buries her face in her hands, making her voice come out muffled as she says, “I don’t think you’re trash.”
