Page 23 of Fumble

Chapter Seven

FAITH

It’s beendays since my promised evening dalliance with Hunter. I think Malcolm has him bugged or something. Every day this week, we’ve made plans to see each other after work under cover of darkness, and every time, Malcolm turns up at Hunter’s room with some new and pressing emergency. I get a text to stay where I am so as not to raise any alarm bells by showing up at his door. It’s not helping my plan to move forward at all!

Our days have been spent in stolen glances, the occasional car journey, and if we’re really lucky, a brush of his hand against my body in a crowded elevator or restaurant. The anticipation is driving me crazy, but Hunter seems to take everything in stride. There are moments when I see his resolve crack ever so slightly, but in the end, he always walks away, leaving me a trembling wreck. If we were keeping score, I think I’d be down by twelve already, and it’s only been a week.

We have this weekend off, which is how I plan to play catchup. Most of the staff is flying home for a few days of R&R, but as far as I’m aware, Hunter will be flying into San Francisco tonight. I’m hoping to hop a flight to San Fran while avoiding the beady-eyed stare of Malcolm.

Today, we’re enjoying the delights of a press junket. I’ve been in and out of Hunter’s suite all day, introducing one journalist after another. It’s great experience for me, and I strive to be as courteous and helpful as possible. This is my chance to network and make contacts for the future. I need to be professional.

As I usher out the last journalist from the morning session, I hear Hunter demanding the room be cleared for the next thirty minutes while he eats lunch. Grabbing my purse from the bedroom, I make my way out with the rest of the staff.

“Miss Fairchild, can I talk to you for a moment about the afternoon session?” No one bats an eyelid at his request. I’m his personal assistant, and, of course, I have private discussions with him, but I’m certain everyone can feel the excitement emanating from me in waves at the thought of being alone with Hunter. Butterflies come to life attempting to take flight from my stomach.

After ushering the last person from the suite, I close the door behind me. Hunter strides across the room, backing me up against the wall, pinning me with his imposing frame.

“You have no business wearing such a sexy little outfit to work. I can barely concentrate.” His breath is warm on my neck, the smell of his cologne invading my senses, driving me to distraction.

“I’m wearing a pantsuit. All you can see is my ankles…”

“And the soft swell of your breasts, the tight curves of your body, and the way your hair cascades down your back like a dusky waterfall.” My breath catches in my throat, unable to form a coherent sentence in reply. I completely lose all concept of time and space when his lips press against my neck, soft but full of want and desire. His voice is a whisper between each tantalizing kiss. “If I could bare to lose our little wager, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

“I… do it. Fuck me.” I don’t recognize the pleading tone of my voice. I want this man to rip my virginity from me with the skill, precision, and power I’ve seen in his career. It’s not about love or marriage, it’s about instinct, and everything about him screams to my inner siren.

The stubble of his jaw scrapes down my chest until his lips are nestled between my breasts, straining the buttons of my blouse.

“Faith. I. Have. So. Much. To. Teach. You. As much as I’d love to sink balls deep inside you right now and satisfy my own desires, you deserve more.” Fisting my hands in his hair, I hold him tight against my chest.

“Then show me. Teach me.” A groan escapes him, sending flames straight to my core. His excitement is evident in the strain of his arousal against my thigh.

“Faith, you’re going to be my demise.” As I grind my hips into him, my pocket begins to vibrate.

“Hold that thought. This might be the confirmation of your suite in San Francisco.”

“Let it go to voicemail.” His hands roam, teasing me to stay in the moment, but I can’t ignore the job I came here to do.

“It’ll only take a second.” As his head drops, I slip out from under his grasp. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I answer without checking the caller ID. My chest tightens, and Hunter senses my unease.

“Hi, Daddy.” Breathing labored, I struggle to compose myself. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.” We exchange pleasantries, and before my eyes, Hunter distances himself, wringing his hands through his hair, his body vibrating with discomfort.

“Yes, he’s here, but I think he is too busy.” My dad is persistent when he wants something. Hunter’s eyes shoot up to meet mine. He knows where this conversation is going. Shaking his head, he walks over to me, gesturing for me to hang up, but I can’t do that to my dad. He’s been nothing but supportive. “Dad, really, I need to get back to work.” He finally insists that I hand the phone to Hunter, but as I hold it out to him, he almost recoils at my proximity, and something inside me snaps.

“He wants to talk to you. Just take the phone already.” I hand it over and make a beeline for the bathroom. Hunter’s demeanor turns on a dime as if my dad can see him.

“Coach!”

I don’t want to be around to hear the rest of their conversation, opting to drown it out with rushing water from the faucet. I’m not sure how long I sit on the edge of the obscenely large tub contemplating all the ways my father is making me sound like a kid to Hunter. It’s not until Malcolm raps his knuckles on the door that I snap out of my funk.

“Wake up, Ms. Fairchild! Time to roll in the afternoon journos.” A pang of disappointment runs through me. Hunter didn’t have the decency to come and get me before everyone came back from lunch. I knew talking to my dad would throw him for a loop, but I didn’t expect silence. I check my makeup in the mirror, adjust my blouse, and open the door to Malcolm’s seedy eyes raking over the length of my body.

“Okay. Let’s do this, so we can all be on our way to a few days off.”

“Are you going home for the weekend?” Disdain drips from his every word.

“I… I don’t know. I didn’t think that far ahead. I’m sure I can grab a last-minute flight.” This is the longest he’s kept his eyes off my breasts since we met, his interrogating gaze fixed on me.

“You going to see your boyfriend?” I guess subtlety isn’t his strong suit. I chuckle at his pathetic attempt to figure me out.

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