His Secretary:Undone(23)

Just when I'm starting to think he's never going to notice, he turns his head just slightly.

I see it - that moment where he's startled, then taken aback, then  realizes I'm clearly playing an angle. He turns around slowly, a smile  playing at his lips.

I wave a little, and I can see him chuckle.

The glass is too thick for me to hear his voice, and he seems to be  mostly listening to the conversation, anyway. Maybe it's some kind of  conference call. Ugh. Horribly boring, wouldn't wish them on my worst  enemy.

I can make it a little more interesting.

He's the only one who can see me, all the way up here. I'm pretending to  play with my collar, letting my hand trail down my shirt, casually  finding a button and slipping it through the hole. His eyes narrow  slightly, and he takes a step closer.         

     



 

With my shirt now gaping open, I get up and saunter over to the mini  bar. Fetching a tiny bottle of scotch and a glass, I shovel some ice in  and pour. I'm not looking at him now, but I hope I still have his  attention.

I do.

Returning to my chair, I stir the drink with my finger and raise it to  my mouth, slowly sucking off the liquor. It burns bitter on my tongue,  but I close my eyes in pleasure.

Adrian's still pressing the phone to his ear, but his other hand is a  clenched fist. I don't have him completely hooked. Not yet.

I set down my drink, and unbutton my shirt the rest of the way. Letting  it slip from my shoulders, I glance at him from under my lashes. He's  shaking his head, and he shows me the flat of his palm. He's still not  letting himself smile all the way, but I know it's more of a promise  than a threat.

I'm cupping my breasts, one in each hand, letting my nipples stiffen and  come to life. It doesn't take long, looking at him. Watching him slowly  unravel. I can see him starting to get hard, and that's all the  encouragement I need - even if he's not acknowledging it.

I unhook my bra and toss it aside.

Through the glass, I see his Adam's apple bob up and down. His eyes close slightly, and he takes a step forward.

I stand up, walking towards him. His hand reaches for the glass, as if  it could meet with mine, and I mirror him, so that our fingertips almost  appear to touch.

Our eyes meet, and I quickly realize I'm in over my head. We're sharing  something more than a striptease. My heart's thumping like crazy and I  can't put my finger on what, exactly, is happening - I just know it's  not what I signed up for.

Suddenly, he lowers the phone.

Shoves it in his pocket.

And then he's reaching for the door handle.

I can't hold back my grin. He tugs, then tugs again. Frowning, he looks up at me.

This time it's easy enough to read his lips, because I already know what he's saying.

It's locked.

I just shrug. Can't hear you.

His eyes darken. It's fucking locked.

I shake my head, pointing to my ear.

He takes out his phone again, and in a moment, mine's buzzing. But I pretend not to hear it.

Adrian pounds on the glass, glaring at me. I just keep shrugging and  smiling, and retreat to my bed, picking up my discarded shirt along the  way and pulling it on.

A moment later he disappears, and the knocking displaces itself to the  connecting door. I keep on ignoring it, even when it stops and reappears  again, this time coming from the hallway.

I pick up my phone, now that he's out of sight.





YOU BITCH





I'm giggling like a loon.





You reap what you sow, Mr. R.





The response comes fast and furious.





You'll fucking regret this when you finally let me get my hands on you





I sense a shadow passing by the glass doors, and I look up. He's got his  belt in one hand, and his tie in the other, and he's wearing a sexy  glower on his face that would make any woman fucking melt. I give him  another what? look, and he rolls his eyes before pulling out his phone  again. The text comes a moment later:





Use your imagination.





I laugh, tossing the phone down on the bed. He disappears again, and this time he doesn't come back.

As much fun as it would be to let him in, he needs to pay for teasing me  earlier. And I have a feeling things are only going to get better, the  longer I let him simmer.

***

After I've waited for a while to make sure I don't run into Adrian in  the hallway, I grab a few drinks with Izzy at the hotel bar to kill some  time. She asks me some probing questions about my relationship with  Adrian, but I manage to dodge them, more or less. She's definitely  sensing some vibes, though. Thankfully, she has another party to go to -  a private one, this time, so I'm not invited.

Good. I've got something else on the agenda for tonight.

After a long elevator ride, I take a deep breath, and knock on his door.  It doesn't take him long to answer, and he's got a key card in his hand  when I do.

"I meant to give you this earlier," he says. "Although, for the record, the connecting door is unlocked on my side."

I'm slightly taken aback. " … thanks."

He shrugs, turning around and ambling back to the desk, where he's got a  few papers spread out. "No expectations. Just, if you want to move your  stuff in here, you're welcome to. I won't make the mistake of doing it  again myself."         

     



 

I roll my eyes. "For the record, what normal people do is this: 'hey,  you know, if you want to share a room for the rest of the trip, feel  free to bring your bags in here and claim a spot for your toothbrush.'"

"I didn't want to come on too strong." He shrugs.

I give him a look.

"Okay, in retrospect, yes." He makes a conciliatory gesture. "I see your point. You can stop looking at me like that."

"I really don't know if I can," I tell him.

He sighs. "I thought maybe … I didn't want you think I was joking. That's  all. So I, you know, I committed the cardinal sin of touching your  stuff."

"And breaking into my room," I point out.

"Breaking in." He scoffs. "I had the key."

"Which you took out of my pocket."

"Which you left on my floor," he says. "How is moving your belongings  more of a violation of privacy than literally putting a part of my body  inside of your body?"

I throw myself across the bed with a dramatic sigh. "Normal people don't  ask these kinds of questions, Adrian. Normal people just respect other  people's boundaries without making it into an existential dilemma. And  normal people don't go through a woman's clothes to find her hotel key."

"Going through is a strong term," he says. "It's not like I was looking for your panties."

"Wow." I roll over and glare at him. "You should really stop talking at this point."

He shakes his head, sitting back down at the desk. "That's just as well. I have work to do."

Work? Seriously? Is he going to play hard to get now?

I get back on my feet, because apparently, having a willing woman  sprawled across his bed isn't enough of an enticement. "The only reason  you weren't looking for panties is because you already got a pair," I  purr, coming up behind him and draping my arms across his shoulders.  "You can keep those, by the way."

"Hmm." He's actually still pretending to pay attention to those papers, the asshole.

I step back.

"Oh, not good enough? Want me to dress up like a stewardess?"

He blinks. "Sorry?"

I'm not proud of myself for bringing that up, but hey, now it's out  there. "Come on, don't pretend like you weren't drooling over her on the  flight over." I'm trying to laugh it off, to sound casual, like I'm  just poking fun at him. Instead of, you know, seething with jealousy.  Considering how we've spent the majority of our time here so far, it's  pretty ridiculous that I can't just let this go.

Of course, it's not really her I'm jealous of. But the last thing I want to think about right now is Kara.

"I'm sure your ass would look fantastic in a little blue skirt," he  admits, capturing my wrist and pulling me close. "But if you opened your  eyes, Meghan, you would've noticed I was mostly looking at you. The  only difference is that you didn't want to see it. I spent the whole car  ride over trying not to notice how far your skirt rode up your thighs. I  was in a bad state. Very, very bad."

He stands up, and drags my hand down to his fly, pressing it firmly  against him so I can feel how he stiffens at my touch. "And when you get  a man into that kind of mood, he happens to notice if a woman's  buttocks are directly at eye level. It's difficult not to." He unzips  and guides my hand between the folds of fabric. "But it doesn't mean  she's the one I really want."

"I'm not jealous," I insist, squeezing him gently.

His eyes close for a moment. "Of course you're not," he says, roughly.  "Why would you be? She's not the one with her hand down my pants right  now, is she?"

I let out a soft snort, which does nothing to flag his arousal. "Like you'd say no."

Adrian grabs a handful of my hair, yanking my head back just enough to  make me gasp. "Do you really want to run through the laundry list of  every woman in the world I'd be willing to fuck? Would that make you  happy?" His eyes flicker with anger and lust. "I've fucked a lot of  women, Ms. Burns. Let's not make any mistake about that. I can't say how  many, not just because it's some obscene number, but because I don't  know. Is that what you want to hear?"