Chapter 2: A Private Conversation
The terrace hummed with the dull roar of conquered pitches and deal-making.Glasses clinked.Laughter spilled over the stone balustrades. Janos watched it all from a removed distance, his eyes tracking one figure weaving through the crowd with effortless grace.Rachel.
He moved with a predator’s patience, intercepting her just as she reached the secluded edge where the party’s noise faded into the rhythmic crash of waves against the cliff below. The sky was a deep bruise of purple and gold, the first pinprick stars defiant against the dying light.
“A second husband,” Janos said, his voice low enough that only she could hear it beneath the wind. He leaned a shoulder against the cool limestone, blocking her path back to the throng.Rachel turned, her green eyes catching the harbour lights. She smiled, the same clever, infuriating smile she’d used on the Saudi investor. “It got his attention, didn’t it? He asked for my deck before he asked for his driver.”
“That’s not what I’m asking about.”
“No?” She took a sip of her sparkling water, her gaze never leaving his.“What are you asking, Janos?”
“The marriage.The joke. You let the assumption hang in the air like a challenge.” He took a half-step closer. The scent of her perfume, something expensive and sharp like bergamot, cut through the salt air. “I’m asking if it was just a tactic.”
She looked out at the darkening water, a curl of red-gold hair brushing her cheek.“All communication is a tactic. Especially here.”
“Don’t deflect.” The command in his voice was quiet, absolute. It made her glance back at him, a flicker of surprise cutting through her polished composure. “Is your marriage open?”
Rachel’s lips curved. She leaned back against the iron railing, the void at her back. “Would it matter to you if it was?”
The playful smile ate at him.
His pulse, already a steady drum, kicked into a heavier beat. The polite facade he wore for founders and Limited Partners sloughed away, revealing the intensity beneath. He saw the quickening of her breath, the slight part of her lips.She was playing, but the game had changed.
“Yes,” he said, the word final.“It would matter.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. The teasing, the circular talk—it was a dance he no longer had patience for. In one smooth motion, he closed the distance between them. His hand found her waist, fingers splaying against the silk of her dress. He felt her intake of breath, the subtle tensing of her body.
“Janos—” she started, but it wasn’t a protest.It was a testing of the waters.
“You’ve been steering this since you walked into the room,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear.The noise of the party was a distant galaxy. “Let’s see how you handle it when you’re not at the wheel.”
He guided her, firmly, away from the railing, further into the deep shadow of a towering archway where the limestone wall was cold and rough.The last of the sunset was a fading stripe of orange far above them. Here, it was almost night.He pinned her there. His body caged hers, one arm braced beside her head, the other still possessively on her hip. He could feel the heat of her through their clothes, see the rapid flutter of a pulse in her throat.
“Now,” he said, his voice a graveled whisper.“A direct answer.It. Open?”
She swallowed, all tease gone from her eyes, replaced by a dark, willing urgency. “Yes.”
“With boundaries?”
“Clear ones.”
“Do they include,” he said, leaning in so his lips brushed the shell of her ear, “being taken by another man?Against a wall? Because he can’t wait another second to have you?”
A shiver racked through her. Her hands came up to his chest, not to push, but to clutch the fabric of his shirt. “They might.”
He claimed her mouth then, hard and hungry.It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was possession.She opened for him instantly, her tongue meeting his with a desperate, matching fire. The taste of her was electrifying—citrus, warmth, a hint of the gin she’d sipped earlier. He groaned into her mouth, his hand sliding from her hip to the curve of her ass, pulling her firmly against the hard ridge of his erection straining against his trousers.
She gasped into the kiss, grinding against him. “Janos… someone could—”
“Let them hear,” he growled, biting down on her lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. His hands went to the dress. Pulling it up, over her hips. He pushed her lace panties down until they dropped to her ankles.
The cool evening air hit her skin, and she whimpered.He tore his mouth from hers, breathing ragged. “Look at you.” He gazed at the elegant, powerful CEO pressed against ancient stone, exposed from the waist down, her dress rumpled, her lips swollen from his kiss. The sight was the most obscenely beautiful thing he’d ever seen.He palmed her sex, feeling her wet heat through the curls. She was dripping for him.“Fuck,” he hissed, slipping a finger inside her. She was tight, clenching around him, so ready.“You’re fucking soaked. Were you thinking about this during your pitch?”
“Yes,” she panted, her head falling back against the stone. “God, yes.”
He unbuckled his own belt, shoved his trousers and briefs down just enough.He was thick, hard, aching. He guided himself to her entrance, the broad head nudging against her slick folds. He watched her face, her eyes screwed shut, her teeth digging into her lip.“Look at me,” he commanded.
Her green eyes flew open, glazed with need.
He pushed into her, one deep, unforgiving thrust that filled her completely.She cried out, a sharp, choked sound that was swallowed by the wind and the distant party. The feel of her was exquisite—a hot, velvet vise gripping him. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, letting them both feel the shocking, perfect fullness.
“You belong to this,” he gritted out, his own control fraying.“To this moment. To me. Say it.”
“I belong to...,” she breathed, her nails digging into his shoulders.He began to move. She moaned. Short, savage strokes that pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. The slap of skin on skin, the ragged mix of their breathing, the creak of his leather belt—it was a raw, filthy symphony. He fucked her with a single-minded intensity, each thrust jolting her body against the unyielding wall. She took it, met it, her hips bucking to meet him, her pleas a continuous, desperate stream whisperedinto his ear.
“Harder… please, don’t stop… right there, fuck, right there…”
He hooked an arm under her thigh, hiking her leg higher, changing the angle. The new depth made her scream into his shoulder, a pure, unfiltered sound of pleasure. He could feel her tightening, coiling, the internal flutter that signaled her approaching climax.It destroyed the last of his restraint.
“Come for me,” he snarled, his pace becoming brutal, punishing.“Come on my cock, Rachel. Now.”
The command, the relentless pounding, the illicit thrill of it all shattered her. Her body convulsed, a violent, clenching wave of pleasure that milked him, pulled a guttural shout from his throat as his own release tore through him. He spent himself deep inside her, pulse after pulse, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as the world blurred into sensation.
For a long minute, there was only the sound of the sea and their slowing, harsh breaths. The chill of the stone began to seep into their heated skin. Slowly, carefully, he withdrew, bracing her weight as her legs threatened to buckle. He tucked himself away, then gently pulled her panties back up, his fingers lingering on her hips.She leaned against the wall, her body trembling with aftershocks. She looked ravaged, glorious.He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.
She turned her face into his palm, her eyes closed. Then she looked at him, and a slow, sated smile touched her ruined lips.“So,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “That’s how you handle a negotiation.”
A laugh, dark and surprised, escaped him. He leaned in, kissing her softly, a stark contrast to what had just transpired. “The negotiation,” he said against her lips, “is just beginning. Let’s get you back to my apartment. My bed. I’m not finished with you tonight.”