Sex Lust & Lingerie (Secrets and Lies Book 2) Read online

  My unrest was compounded by my fatigue. I was eager for my coffee to arrive. While he had slept like a baby, I’d tossed and turned all night. Even after moving to the spare bed, I didn’t sleep a wink. There was only one good thing about insomnia—you can’t have nightmares—and at least, my monster, Boris Borofsky, stayed out of my brainwaves. I kept replaying the events of the past week in my head. My first encounter with Jaime in the elevator of The Walden in New York. Our swim in the hotel pool and our sensual shower in the men’s locker room. Dinner in his room where he feasted on me. His pitch for my account after which he blindfolded me and fucked me senseless on his conference room table. Then, after I caught him heatedly kissing my assistant, Vivien Holden, he followed me to Paris to tell me the truth. That Vivien was his manipulative stepsister and her father, Victor, Gloria’s Secret Chairman of the Board, his abusive stepfather. He had rescued me from Victor’s drunken, sexual assault, and from that moment on, we were inseparable. Two lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other.

  Jaime Zander had consumed me. Awoken places and feelings deep inside me I never knew I had. The truth: I couldn’t get enough of him. But as I folded the red chiffon dress I’d worn last night, I knew in the end I was only going to get hurt. Once a player, always a player. Having won our account with his brilliant BDSM-inspired pitch—Gloria’s Secret. Let yourself be carried away—I now dreaded having to work with him. How should I proceed? There was only one answer: I had to go back—and keep it pure business. One of Madame Paulette’s favorite songs had been Edith Piaf’s “Je ne Regrette Rien.” The intoxicating scent of him was still on my dress and caressed my senses. Tears stung my eyes. I suddenly regretted everything. Everything that had to do with Jaime Zander.

  “Hey, Angel, what are you doing?” a raspy voice from behind me called out. My skin prickled. He was up.

  Without turning to look at him, I said, “Packing. I’m going back to LA, and you’re going back to New York.”

  I heard him climb out of bed. “Where’d you go last night?” he asked with a sleepy yawn. “I reached for you, but you weren’t there.”

  “I went to sleep in the other bed. I had insomnia.”

  “Did I keep you up?” His voice was getting closer.

  “Yes.” That was a fact. I didn’t elaborate.

  As I zipped up my overnight case, two strong bare arms slipped under mine and circled my breasts. He cupped the full mounds in his palms and massaged them. My tender nipples peaked beneath his touch. How quickly he could make me ache. Damn him! I whirled around and faced him. The effect his bedroom eyes and bedhead hair had on me was unraveling me. Collect yourself, Gloria. Don’t let him do this to you.

  “We need to have a serious conversation,” I spluttered, thankful he was wearing pajama bottoms.

  “Seriously?”

  His deliberate or not play on words got under my skin.

  “Yes.” I hissed the word.

  He ran his long fingers through my still loose hair. He was doing everything that got me all riled up. “About what?”

  I jerked away. “About toi et moi.”

  He let out that deep, sexy chortle that always undid me. “Your French accent is perfect, Gloria. Just like you.”

  I tried hard not to react. Just tell him what’s on your mind. Keep your heart out of it.

  I sucked in a lungful of air. “I think we need to keep our relationship strictly business. There’s too much riding on the line.”

  He cocked a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

  What I mean is that you’re taking me down a collision course. There’s only disaster at the finish line. I can’t afford to be a car wreck.

  What I said: “I’m under a lot of pressure to take Gloria’s Secret to the next level. With all the competition springing up, Wall Street is scrutinizing us. There are a lot of people out there who want to see me fail…including Victor.”

  His jaw tensed at the mention of his stepfather’s name. “So…”

  I jumped right in. “I think you should stop fucking me, and we’ll pretend that none of this happened.”

  Jaime knitted his eyebrows as if in deep thought. He spoke sooner than I thought he would. “You’re the client, Gloria. And the client’s needs always come first. Except I think your needs are different than what you think.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked, echoing his earlier words.

  “I. Think. You. Need. Me.”

  A tug of my hair accompanied each punctuated word. The way he looked straight into my eyes made my heart patter. I was losing my cool. Several long seconds passed before I responded.

  “No, Mr. Zander, what I need is a successful ad campaign.” And my sanity back. “And by the way, I don’t want to be in it in any shape or form.”

  Jaime shrugged. “A big mistake, in my humble opinion, Ms. Long. You should learn to trust me. I thought you were doing a great job, but obviously you’ve regressed for some reason.”

  Inside me, unexpected sadness mixed with my hormones. It took all I had to keep it together.

  “And I think you should take your ring back.” I started to twist it off my finger, but because my period was coming, my fingers were swollen from water retention. I couldn’t get it past my knuckle. “Damn it,” I cursed silently as he tipped my head up by my chin. My pained eyes met his darkened pools of blue as I continued futilely to tug at the ring.

  “Listen, Gloria, I don’t want the ring back. It’s not returnable.” He squeezed my right hand, trapping my fidgeting fingers and the ring in his fist.

  “You can sell it on eBay or pawn it.” I ground out the words between clenched teeth.

  His thickly lashed eyelids lowered. He looked wounded. “No, Gloria, I have no time or interest in doing that. And it’ll never fetch the price I paid.”

  I suddenly felt bad. He had, beyond doubt, paid an exorbitant amount of money for it. It was a rare antique…unique and special. Two magnificent entwined diamond hearts. Priceless.

  “Gloria, I want you to have it.” I stood frozen as he softened his grip around my hand and raised it to his lips. He placed a warm, reverent kiss on the ring, grazing my flesh, and then gazed into my eyes.

  “Just accept it as a souvenir from Paris. And the kiss too.”

  My heart was beating so loudly I was sure he could hear it. To my relief, there was a loud knock at the door, saving me from responding. “That must be the coffee. I’ll go get it.”

  Freeing myself, I scurried to the door and opened it. Yes, coffee. With a cheerful bonjour, the waiter entered our chamber and set a silver tray with the coffee onto a small round table. After taking care of him, I busied myself pouring two cups of the steamy dark liquid—one for me and reluctantly, the other for Jaime. The smell of the rich caffeine wafted in the air. I generously poured steamed milk into both cups of the aromatic brew, remembering he liked his coffee café au lait style like me. As the warm, frothy liquid filled his cup, I reflected on how much I already knew about this man in less than a week’s time.

  He strode toward me. “Great. Coffee for toi et moi.”

  Toi et moi. The words echoed in my head. There was no toi et moi. Yet, I was aching, throbbing. Unwanted tears were verging. I needed to get away from him. “I’ll be right back. I need to use the bathroom.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.” He smiled warmly and took a sip of the steaming brew.

  Inside the bathroom, I sat on the toilet longer than I needed. I finally grabbed a thick wad of toilet paper. I wiped my still throbbing folds and took a look, hoping not to see the first sign of my period. The last thing I needed was to fly home with soaked tampons and cramps. I breathed a soft sigh of relief when I saw no trace of blood. But my heart grew heavy. Remains of Jaime’s cum glistened before me. The memories of fucking him last night on the Grande Roue flooded my head. Oh my God! That explosive, mind-blowing orgasm. As I relived it, my core morphed into the Eiffel Tower, crackling with white lights. How could I live without this man inside me?
I was second-guessing my decision to end our intimacy—would it end up being the worst business decision of my life? A tear of despair trickled down my face.

  The sound of a phone ringing brought me back to the moment. It was either Jaime’s cell or mine; we had identical iPhones. When it stopped on the third ring, I knew it was his. I heard him say hello, and then the flush of the toilet and the subsequent running of water to wash my hands blocked out the sound of his voice.

  When I stepped back into the bedroom, Jaime was still on the phone. He was pacing and the expression on his face was intense. Avoiding eye contact, he lowered his voice and said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in LA, babe.”

  As he ended the call, my heart skipped a beat. “Who were you talking to?”

  “Another client.” His voice wavered.

  Rage and jealousy crescendoed inside me. “Oh, so do you call all your female clients ‘angel’ or ‘babe’?”

  He twitched a nervous smile. “Just the ones I find attractive.”

  A blast of anger shot through me. I wanted to grab his phone and smack him with it. My second-guess thoughts evaporated like water. I had made the right decision. He was a rogue. A player. Except he wasn’t going to play with me. No fucking way.

  “Mr. Zander, from now on, please only call me Ms. Long.”

  “Is that what I should shout out when you make me come?”

  I screwed up my face. Smartass!

  He smirked at me.

  Let him smirk. I braided my hair. I was back to being in control.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jaime

  I’d managed to stave Gloria off with my lame excuse of another client, but when my phone rang again moments later, I hesitated to answer it. Unknown number. It rang twice. Then stopped briefly before ringing again. The code. They were calling me again. My pulse quickened and my chest tightened. Clutching my phone, I set down my half-drunk coffee on the table.

  “Gloria, I’m sorry. I’ve got to take this one outside,” I spouted, heading toward the French doors that opened to the terrace off our room.

  “Oh, that client again?” snipped Gloria as she secured an elastic around the tip of her long braid. The urge to slide it off, free her hair, and throw her on the bed with me on top of her made my dick stiffen. I thought about letting the call go voicemail, but I knew it was too important.

  “No, another client. It’s purely business.”

  Her head angled over her shoulder toward me. A look that could freeze the Equator spread over her face. “I see. Personal business.” Her glacial voice dripped with sarcasm. “Perhaps the client you met with yesterday?”

  Another ring. I’d not told her that Emanuelle, who’d arranged for the Grande Roue ride, was really Emanuel. Now, it seemed pointless.

  “Gloria, I told you. I keep all my clients’ dealings confidential.” I twisted the handle of one of the doors, opening it. “So will you please excuse me.”

  “Fine.” Her voice stabbed my back as I stepped outside. The early morning Paris air was crisp, and several stories below me on the busy Boulevard St. Germain, the City of Light had already come alive. Much like New York, it was a city that never slept.

  Closing the door behind me, I swiped my phone and answered. “Zander here.”

  The familiar monotone voice on the other end wasted no time with pleasantries. “When are you leaving Paris?”

  My blood heated. How the hell did he know I was here? Had they followed me? My mind raced back to the slimy scar-faced dude watching me and Gloria last night at the bistro bar. With a shudder, I wondered: Was he one of theirs?

  Without challenging my interrogator, I straightforwardly told him that I was heading back to New York shortly. I’d be landing at Teterboro in the early morning.

  “Change of plans,” the voice responded.

  My brows furrowed as I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “What do you mean?”

  “We need you in LA ASAP.”

  Processing his directive, I glimpsed Gloria finalizing her packing. Her icy gaze met mine briefly and then flitted away. Turning my back to her, I spoke again into my cell. One word: “Why?”

  “Things are about to explode. We need to know you are committed. That we can count on you.”

  Again, I turned my head toward Gloria, who, zipping up her bag, was unaware of my gaze on her through the French doors. At the sight of her gorgeous ass, my cock stirred.

  “Well?” asked the voice, refocusing my attention.

  “Yes.” Pause. “I am.”

  “Good.” The voice lightened, and I could imagine a slow, half-smile crawling across the intense face of the person on the other end. Along with a reaffirming nod. “We’ll be in touch with further instructions.”

  And with that the line went dead. Dropping the phone from my ear, I blew out a breath. One that released my bottled up tension. Things were happening faster than I anticipated and I didn’t have a game plan.

  With another deep inhale, I collected myself and headed back inside the hotel room that held so many memories for me. That still held Gloria. Despite the sounds of my footsteps and the door shutting behind me, she ignored me and instead transported her packed suitcase closer to entrance to our room.

  I dashed up to her. “Let me help you.”

  “Mr. Zander, I really don’t need you.”

  Her words, like shards, cut into my chest as she continued without looking back at me.

  “Did your client call go well?”

  “Yeah. But it’s complicated.”

  She sniveled. “I thought you loved a challenge.”

  “I do.”

  Except the challenge I now faced was daunting. Like rolling the dice and getting snake eyes three times in a row.

  Packing my personal bag, I reminded myself that I loved games. I exceled at games. I played to win and I always won.

  But now for the first time in my adult life, I wasn’t sure if I could win. My opponent was fierce. My pawn volatile, unpredictable. Vulnerable.

  The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Gloria.

  Or lose her.

  I was vulnerable too.

  CHAPTER 5

  Gloria

  Wouldn’t you know, our private planes were scheduled to depart at about the same time. When my driver didn’t show up, Jaime offered me a ride in his limo.

  “I’ll take a taxi,” I huffed as I stood in front of the hotel with him.

  “Bonne chance, Ms. Long,” he said with a shrug. “Have you ever tried to catch a cab in Paris morning rush hour traffic?”

  I was about to find out. Wearing leggings, a sweater, and ballet flats, I darted to the edge of the insanely busy Saint Germain, and started to hail a cab. I jumped up and down, flailing my arms, trying to get one to stop. “Taxi!” I repeatedly shouted at the top of my lungs. I must have looked like some kind of whacked-out ballerina dancing to a symphony of honking horns. One cab after another whooshed by without stopping. I continued with my desperate dance, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. When cab number-I-don’t-know-what zoomed by me, I turned my head and stole a glance at Jaime. He was smirking. The asshole! He was enjoying every minute of my pathetic song-and-dance show. I wrinkled my nose at him. To my utter chagrin, he mock-mimicked me and waved.

  My blood bubbled. I’ll show him! It was time to get aggressive. Convinced the cab drivers weren’t seeing me, I stepped deeper into the crazy-with-traffic Paris boulevard.

  “Atten-cion!” screamed a voice. I processed the word in my brain—“Watch Out!”—but it was too late. I cranked my head to the left. A stocky Frenchman on a motorbike was speeding my way. In fact, he was only a few feet away. My heart was racing, but I froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

  As the cursing biker barreled toward me, my life flashed before me and I silently said good-bye to this world.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jaime

  Despite all that was on my mind, watching Gloria trying to hail a cab put a smile on my face. My arms
folded across my chest, my bag by my feet next to hers, I was even chuckling. Fuck, she was cute, practically doing jumping jacks to get someone’s attention. Twice, she looked my way and I waved at her, mouthing the words “good luck.” My actions only infuriated her further and she shot me that adorable scrunched up-face look that always turned me on. My cock twitched beneath my jeans as I mused whether she realized that she could make me come faster than a taxi.

  On the third time, she looked my way with an expression that bordered on defeat. I was sure she was going to stop her futile efforts and accept my generous offer to take her to the airport in my car. I signaled with a curl of my finger to get out of the street and stand with me. Give it up. Come here, you. Her fuck-you eyes stayed on me too long, ripping the smirk off my face. Panic gripped me by the balls. Zooming toward her was a motorcyclist, and she was clueless.

  “Gloria, watch out!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, dashing into the street, the vroom of the bike roaring in my ears. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as the soles of my shoes pounded the pavement.

  “Gloria!” I yelled out again. The confusion and anger etched on her face morphed into fear as her gaze turned toward the oncoming traffic. Her jaw dropped open and she froze like her feet were stuck in cement. The motorist was shouting for her to get out of the way. In Paris, pedestrians didn’t have right away. Get of out the way or you’re doomed to say good-bye to your life. Gloria was about to say adieu to hers.