Page 6 of Tipping Point

Scowling.

I was here first. If you want to fuck on the elevator, pick an empty one next time.

The doors open on my floor. I step off unhurriedly. I’m trying to look unperturbed.

The doors close behind me and the elevator whooshes them up to a night of endless sex. I wonder if it helps with the tension. If you have a big drive the next day, are you nervous? Does sex help to unwind? It usually helps me.

I shrug.

In my room, I toss my things on the bed and fall down next to it with a huff.

It’s only a year, Camille. And it’s a lot of money.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say to the empty room.

* * *

FINN

“Inez.” As soon as the doors close, I pull her arm from mine. “Why did you follow me?”

I’m feeling some type of way. That woman, the blonde curls she tossed into a bun so carelessly.

She ate a plate of French fries with relish, chasing it down with a stout beer, like the girls back home.

At the Empyrean.

Licking the salt from her fingers. Sexy. Infuriating.

She had raised her beer at me. After that right feckin’ mess today at the studio. Maybe I had been too hard on her. I could be charming if I wanted to be. Inez, rubbing her body up against mine, was proof.

That shit about the contract irked me.

If Delta Victor didn’t renew my contract, that would mean the day I have been preparing for, for years, was finally here.

I’m not sure how I feel about that. I had always assumed I was ready.

Inez was proving hard to shake, and I took the first chance I got when her back was turned.

Curls was on the elevator. Her grey eyes widened in surprise.

I wanted to ask her if she’s ever eaten Passatelli in Brodo. But then Inez followed me.

Can’t ditch a beautiful woman in front of other people. Even I’m not that cruel.

I lean down to kiss the top of her hand. The red dress is clinging to all the right places.

Her lips part. Women love this shit. When you act all gentlemanly, kiss their hands, open their doors. I run a finger down her neck to the strap of her dress, slide a fingertip inside, drag it achingly slowly down the line of her dress as it scoops low between her breasts. Her nipples harden through the thin satin. She smells like musky flowers.

People always ask if I’m a tits, legs, or ass guy. For me, it’s how women smell.

For a moment, it reels me in.

I bury my face in her neck and start dragging my finger up the other side of her dress, push my finger deeper under the silk, brush her nipple. She moans.

My dick twitches.

“And you said not tonight,” she murmurs as she brings her hands to my face, pulling me in closer.

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