The Hotel 2 (The Billionaire Seduction)(10)

I shudder. Fuck, the fullness and intensity are so big, I don't think I can stand it. Even if I want to.

Dom grips my hips with both his hands.

"You touch your clit now," he growls as he holds back. He's tense,  coiled, but taking it blissfully slow. I reach to where his fingers have  pushed me to a frenzy, stroking just how I need it.

"I can't hold back," I gasp. God, it feels so good. "Please, Dominic. Give me more. Please."

He thrusts into me again, deeper, saying my name over and over, chanting it like a prayer.

Suddenly, he pushes into me, once, twice, hard.

"Oh my God, yes," I moan.

Stars flash before my eyes as another orgasm flares, stronger than ever,  my whole body exploding in bliss. I hold back a scream, groaning  instead, pleasure radiating through me. We collapse onto the bed, and he  gently pulls out of me. His arms come to hold me tight, anchoring me in  place.

I listen to him breathing and I'm wrapped in more contentment and peace  than I've ever known. Suddenly I know what the feeling is that won't go  away.

I'm falling in love with Dominic.





Chapter Nine




"I want you with me at the meeting this morning."

Dominic is adjusting tie as he looks at me in the mirror. I stop in  surprise. "The board of investors meeting you have in twenty minutes?" I  ask. I've just stepped out of the shower, my hair is soaking wet and  I'm pretty sure any clothes suitable for work are in a wrinkled mess in  the bottom of my suitcase.

"Yes."
         

     



 
"You know, a girl needs a little more notice than this," I only  half-joke, grabbing for the hair dryer. It's alright for him, he just  has to pull on a perfectly-tailored suit and look like a million bucks,  but it takes work to get me up to ‘important meeting' standards.

Dom doesn't respond. He's already checking his Blackberry, back in  professional mode this morning. Part of me is disappointed. I imagined  us snuggling together in bed, sharing a room service breakfast  –  and  more. But of course, that's stupid, I remind myself. He came here for  business, not just a romantic getaway.

I walk over and smooth down his shirt.

"Are you sure, I can just wait here for you to be done. Or take a walk,  do some exploring. You don't need to babysit me," I add, worried he  thinks I'm going to get clingy. "Why do you even want me there?"

He stops adjusting his cufflinks to stare at me as if he's confused by the question. "Do I need a reason?"

"No, but maybe I do." Oops, that sounded a touch too combative. The look  he's giving me says he agrees. "I mean, what will the board think if  you bring me? Am I supposed to play your secretary today?" I tease.

He shrugs. "You're a highly motivated intern who should take this opportunity with a smile."

My face falls at his suddenly cool, businesslike demeanor. I can't stop  myself, and I turn before he sees the disappointment that I feel. This  is silly. We're back into work mode today, that's all-

"Hey," He takes my elbow and turns me to him. "I don't just want you there. I need you."

I pause, but Dom draws me in for a kiss, and my reservations melt away.

"You get ready," he says. "I'll meet you downstairs."

Twenty-two frantic minutes later, I hurry across the lobby, breathing  hard. I managed to dry my hair  –  barely  –  and pull it back into a braid.  With a button down blouse, navy skirt and blazer, I think I can just  about pass for professional, if my red cheeks and breathlessness don't  give me away.

My phone buzzes with a text-a series of them, actually. I set up alerts  for any news or blog results about the Rexford, and now a flurry of them  arrive. My pulse races as I read them. They're all positive,  enthusiastic, and responding to news of the gala events with excitement.  This is excellent!

I see Dom waiting in a side hallway, talking to some businessmen in  suits. I want to tell him the good news, but there's no time. He greets  me with a nod, then ushers me into a conference room. Inside, there's a  group of people already seated around the boardroom table. They look  polished, and severe, and, well, European.

Dominic takes a seat at the head of the table. There's a space beside  him, so I slide into the chair. Without any kind of formal introduction,  they begin to talk. Loudly.

In French.

I sit there, totally baffled. Whatever they're saying, it's a heated  conversation. Dominic's expression hardens, but his voice is even and  calm in that rational tone that he has.

"Gentlemen," he finally says in English. "I understand your concerns."

Immediately, they switch to English. One of the other men is wearing a  bow-tie and white linen suit. He scowls across the table. "Then you are  aware that Prescott's team is acquiring a building, just a few blocks  away."

Prescott wants to put a hotel here?

"Yes, Bastian, I am. I fail to see the problem."

Bastian isn't placated. "Our company has lost a lot of money from this  rivalry. Your investors here in Europe are worried what will happen if  the feud spills over to our shores."

A murmur of agreement goes up around the table. I feel bad for the  position Dominic is in, but I understand. Nothing matters more to a  board of directors than cash, and Blaine Prescott has been plucking it  from the Rexford's pockets left and right.

Slimy weasel.

"Your concerns are valid, and understand that I take them seriously."  Dominic looks at each person in the room. "But we're already taking  measures to rebuild and strengthen the Rexford brand, at home and  abroad. Juliet, why don't you explain a little about our new direction?"

Me? I startle, surprised, but Dominic is waiting with an expectant look on his face. So is every other person in the room.

"Umm … " I try to gather my thoughts. It was hard enough stepping up to  lead a meeting back in Chicago, but here, I'm even more out of my depth.

Deep breaths, Juliet. Just focus on the plans.

"Well, our strategy covers several departments. First of all, publicity  and branding," I begin, my heart pounding in my chest so loudly I'm sure  the room can hear it. "We're launching an impressive new awareness  campaign for The Rexford Chicago, starting with a gala to celebrate the  hundred-year anniversary of the hotel's rebuilding. It's a first step in  fighting back against rival hotels and reminding them about the  Rexford's illustrious past."         

     



 

I pull out my phone, and access the texts and alerts I got just before the meeting.

"Our PR team notified me moments ago that we have confirmed national  television coverage of the event. It will hit every major newspaper,  television station, gossip magazine and internet news site in the  nation. The world is going to see The Rexford once again as the most  exclusive, luxurious destination for their trip: not just in Chicago,  but internationally as well."

I stop, looking to Dominic for approval. He gives a nod, then picks up from my speech to finish.

"We plan to do the same for The Rexford Paris. Nothing Prescott offers  can compare to our legacy and what we've built, and we're going to make  sure everyone knows it."

The meeting wraps up quickly. The board members seem placated, at least  for now. I wait by the exit, watching Dom smooth-talk the group, shaking  hands before he joins me and walks us out to the front of the building.  There's a limo waiting, and I get inside after him. I'm exhilarated and  hopeful that we made a difference. But he doesn't say anything either  way.

It frustrates me, the way he acts like I can read his mind. Especially right now, when I need some reassurance.

"Where are we heading now?" I ask. "Another meeting?"

Dominic answers me with a kiss, hot and demanding. He pops a few buttons  on my shirt and slides his hand in to cup my breast, feasting on my  mouth until I'm dizzy.

"No meeting," he whispers against my mouth. "It's a surprise."

He tweaks my nipple between his fingers, grazing my neck with soft  kisses and driving me wild with need until the limo suddenly stops.

I sit up and readjust my blouse before the driver can open the door.

"So, does that kiss mean you think it went well in there?"

He watches me re-button my blouse. "You were excellent, Juliet. It did  go well. You have a gift for keeping your cool in high-stress  situations, and I like knowing you're on my team."

I flush with pride, but then remember those incriminating photos from  the Drake that have yet to surface. One look at those pictures and Dom  might think twice about whose team I'm on. I push the thought away and  try to smile as the door opens and the driver helps me out of the car.

Outside, I look around. We're on a narrow street filled with old,  expensive-looking stores. They have gleaming windows and discreet signs,  spelling out familiar designer names in gold script. Hermes, Gucci,  Prada.

"What are we doing?" I ask, confused.