Page 37 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
I don’t know how a presentation could’ve gone any better. I even genuinely smiled at Declan and had a great discussion with him about utilizing influencers. It spun off into a conversation about all the things people can do in the Smoky Mountains that I had no idea about. The Northeastern guy in me just thought it was hiking and horseback riding.
He’s not so bad I guess. At least, when Kat’s not involved.
I walk to the elevator to head back to the room riding a high, but as soon as the elevator door closes, I feel the crash from the adrenaline wearing off starting to hit. It’s been a chaotic forty-eight hours, and all I want right now is a hot shower and a solid nap. I barely slept last night and have a feeling the same will be true tonight.
I check my watch to see that it's just before four o'clock. My guess is that Kat is probably in the room—AKA the neutral zone—getting ready for her presentation. I should leave her alone. When she ran from the lobby earlier to the elevator, I assumed she’d be here, but I didn’t see her when I came up to get ready. But I have no plans on messing with her, or even engaging in conversation. She can do what she needs to get ready as long as she’ll let me borrow the bed for two hours to take the best nap of my life before I have to drive to Knoxville to catch my flight to Connecticut.
When I open the door to our room, I’m immediately struck by music playing from the bathroom. I don’t know why, but I expected that if Kat was listening to music while getting ready for a presentation, she’d have on some sort of rap music. Maybe a pregame warmup kind of playlist. But no, the song that’splaying now is a sultry one, deep tones that hit you square in the chest.
Or maybe it’s hitting me because of the vision I’m looking at.
I don’t mean to stare at Kat through the crack in the bathroom door that gives a view of the mirror, but it’s the first thing I see when I walk in the room. She’s wearing nothing but a nude color bra and panties while putting on her makeup—though she doesn't need an ounce of it.
The makeup reminds me of the first night we met. It’s subtle. Her eyeliner isn’t as drastic as when I saw her here at the Timberline that first day. Her lipstick isn’t bold at all, yet still has a power to it. Her hair is back into a tight bun, screaming queen of the board room.
And then it hits me.Thisis Katherine Smith. This is the persona she wears when she’s in work mode. First I thought Katherine was just her more formal name, which is why she went by it professionally, but now I’m thinking it’s much deeper than that. That this woman keeps business and pleasure so separate that she has to go by another name to help her compartmentalize.
I wonder why? Is it just a preference? Did something happen? Is that why she has the rules in place? Holy shit…that first night…she introduced herself as Kat. Her hair was down. But it was this subtle makeup. Beige lingerie.
That night I was withboththese women. One my nemesis, the other my obsession. And I don’t know which one I’m more attracted to.
Transfixed by the scene before me, I drop my bookbag at the doorway, my idea for a nap long gone. It’s like I can’t stop myself from walking toward her. She’s a magnet pulling me in. I’m almost to the door when she finally makes eye contact with me, but she doesn’t tell me to stop. She doesn’t tell me to stay away.She doesn’t say anything. She doesn't need to. Our eyes do all the talking.
We want each other. We want each other so fucking bad neither of us can stand it. But more than that, we want to win. It's where we're both alike. Neither of us are going to give in; neither of us are going to cross that line. But dammit if we’re both not going to walk that line like the tightrope it is.
I push open the door, and she makes no attempt to stop me. I step behind her, taking in her perfect body through the mirror, like it’s on display just for me. I can’t help but look straight at her chest, her full tits propped up perfectly in a nude lace bra. The boy shorts she’s wearing match, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to rip them down her legs so I can see if she’s wet for me. I’m not even touching her, but I can see the goosebumps forming on her skin. I can tell from the defiant look in her eye that she’s trying to will them away, but it’s a losing effort.
“How’d it go?” she asks in an attempt to reclaim the upper hand.
“Good,” I say as I step closer, allowing our bodies to touch ever so slightly. Just enough to ignite the spark that always lies between us without setting the room on fire.
“Enough to win?”
I know she’s trying to taunt me with her question—it’s what I would do if the roles were reversed—but I know how well I did. Which is why I can play this cool. “I like my chances.”
I step closer into her, allowing my hardening cock to barely rub against her. God, what I wouldn’t give to bend her over this counter and fuck her from behind. Be able to watch her face as I drive into her. Take that bun out of her hair while my dick is buried inside of her, wrapping her black hair around my hand and pulling on it, arching her back as she screams my name.
But I don’t. I don’t cross the line. As much as I’m dying to.
“We can’t do this,” she says.
“I know.”
My voice is low in her ear, barely above a whisper. We’re still not touching, but the heat radiating between us is enough to start a fire that would set this hotel into a blaze.
“We should walk away.”
“I know.”
But neither of us do, not until the timer goes off on Kat’s phone, which I’m guessing is the alarm signaling that she has to go to meet with Declan and Howard.
I step away, allowing Kat to exit the bathroom before I lock myself inside. I don’t even wait until she leaves before I turn on the shower to the coldest setting I can stand. I pray that she’s left when I start jacking off, needing relief because of the woman who’s going to be the death of me.
She’s my competition.
She’s my dream woman.
And I have a feeling she’s going to be my biggest heartbreak.
