Tell Me You Want Me by Willow Winters

Suzette

The boat cuts through the river below us as the skyline rises above. The bright lights twinkle against the black sky. Up close, it’s intimidating but there’s still something elegant about those tall buildings.

The air at the bow of the boat is crisp and clean. With both of my hands holding the railing, I breathe in deep, grateful for a moment alone after the last hour of socializing. My cheeks hurt from the constant smiling. I laugh when it’s appropriate and keep everything light. This isn’t my first time at a gathering that’s … out of my league.

I’m sure it’s obvious that I don’t quite fit in, but it’s gone well as far as I can tell. Champagne flutes clinked as we worked through the crowd, and the small gathering of women mostly gossiped about social circles I’m not privy to.

Most notably, the view is stunning.

I grew up in New York, but not in the city. I knew the dream of it, breathed in the hope of what NYC offers. I believe in this city. It will never cease to amaze me.

New York City is freeing in the same way my divorce was liberating.

Admittedly, that freedom came from the fact that I had security in my job. I could make it on my own and live the dream I’ve had since I was a little girl without fear. That was then. My hands twist against the cold, smooth metal. This is now.

Apprehension spreads through my gut. I can’t deny the fear that my job might be on the line now. I’ve slept with Adrian and he’s sending emails about gathering client lists like he wants to rearrange everything at the office. Or rather his “team” is. If I don’t have that security anymore, then everything is at risk.

“You’ve been out here a while.” The deep rumble from behind me is startling.

Adrian appears at my side by the railing, looking out with me. “I was spending time with my thoughts.” Smiling at him, I step a bit closer. “Is your meeting done?”

“Yes.”

“Did you seal the deal?” I ask him as he breathes in deep, looking over my shoulder to gaze at the skyline. He peers down at me, a charming smile at his lips. “Always, my little vixen.”

With the heat in his eyes, I let out a nervous huff of a laugh and pull away.

“Dinner’s about to start. Let me get you a drink.”

It gives me a bit of relief that he’s not pressing me about what’s on my mind. I’m not sure how to talk about it with him yet. Adrian leads me back inside the cabin, the mood seeming a little more somber as more thoughts race through my mind. Thoughts of anxiety and anticipation about what’s going to happen at work.

Adrian takes me by the elbow to guide me through the tables, stopping at the bar for a glass of wine. The ship is massive and spacious. It’s obvious they spared no expense for this evening’s outing. The group of women I was chatting with earlier are seated with their companions, dining on caviar as they overlook the river.

All the tables have been set with linen tablecloths and beautiful dishes. This is how the other half lives. It’s elegance and convenience that will only ever be a dream for most.

“We’re toward the stern … for more privacy.”

We reach our table, nestled in a corner with lit candles and the perfect view of the ship splitting the water that reflects the bright lights of the city. I stop at the edge, bracing myself, suddenly uncomfortable. With a firm hand he tilts up my chin. “What’s wrong?”

“Just worried.” The knot in my stomach ties tighter.

“About what?”

It takes great effort to keep my expression neutral, in case anyone may see when I say, “My job.”

Light dances in his eyes. “It’s after six.”

“Unlike you, I can’t just turn it off. I can’t stop worrying about my responsibilities and wondering what’s going to happen to my income … and what might happen between us.”

There’s a pause, a tension that gathers between us before Adrian pulls out my chair and tells me, “We can discuss it later, but I’m telling you, I don’t want you to worry.”

“As if I can just stop.”

“You can. And you will.”

“It’s just hard to believe right now.”

“Let me help you with that.” His gentle smile is as confident as his touch. “You need to eat. Sit.” He takes my wineglass from my hand, only a few sips gone, and helps me to my seat.

It’s a bit chillier now than it was earlier and even with the beautiful double collar Mackage jacket Noah was gracious enough to have rush delivered before the boat set sail, it’s brisk.

“May I?” Adrian asks, still standing as I take my seat. He moves the remaining chair around the table, dragging it to sit beside me.

“You’d rather sit next to me?”

“I’d rather have my arm around you.”

There’s comfort that’s unexpected, in the way he simply wants to be with me. Next to me, with me, touching me. I crave it without realizing it.

The waiter comes by with appetizers: oysters on ice, bruschetta, and marinated olives with feta. Where we’re seated, the chatter is muted and drowned out by the water, the breeze is comforting and it feels like the city has stayed awake just for us.

We’re finished with our appetizers when Adrian orders two glasses of ice water.

“I’m all right with the wine,” I tell him.

“I thought we could play a game,” is his reply. “To keep your mind off work.”

“What kind of game?” My cheeks are instantly flushed and hot, though no one seems to be paying attention to us, tucked away back here. “Would it be … discreet?”

“Very,” he says and his gorgeous pale blue eyes rest on mine as he smirks, “as long as you can keep quiet.”

“I have no problem with that.” The suggestive game is enticing, and there’s no doubt I would much rather get lost in this man’s touch than ruminate on matters I cannot control.

Just as I rest my hand on Adrian’s thigh, the waiter returns and a hot blush creeps to my cheeks realizing I’m the one caught. The waiter only offers a polite smile, not saying a word as he sets down the goblets of ice water and then uncovers dinner: filet mignon and lobster tail with mashed potatoes and asparagus, all neatly arranged in a tasteful way.

My mouth waters instantly.

Adrian’s quiet and commanding as he tells me, “Pick up your fork and make sure you appear to be eating, no matter what I do.”

“Appear to be eating or actually eat?” My fork hovers over the plate.

“You should eat,” he decides. “I’ll try to be fair and give you time to chew and swallow.”

Adrian looks down at his own plate and says, “Enjoy dinner. That’s all you need to do.”

Small talk ensues. About the city, the ever-changing neighborhoods and real estate. Nothing heavy, yet it chips away at who each of us is and what we want.

“Why am I not surprised that you live in Tribeca,” I comment offhandedly knowing how damn expensive it is. Yet another checkbox on tonight’s elite list that I could never fulfill.

That’s when I feel his hand on my thigh underneath the table, pushing my dress up. My fork scrapes against the porcelain, giving away my surprise until I can steady myself. His touch goes up and up until his knuckles brush against my clit through my panties.

Cold shocks me so suddenly, I gasp.

“With a sound like that escaping those lips of yours,” Adrian scolds, his tone teasing, “people will wonder if something happened to you.”

He doesn’t let up with the pressure against my clit and I struggle to perfect my expression.

“Keep your thighs apart,” he murmurs. “That’s the only way to play this game.”

Circular motions of his knuckles make me hotter, increasing the heat until all at once he removes his hand.

My initial reaction is to object, but that’s quickly silenced as he plucks a piece of ice from his glass and, with his eyes on mine, his hand disappears under the table. My lips part with a hiss as the cold hits my inner thigh first. He doesn’t stop, slowly trailing it up.

I let out a breathy laugh. “That’s freezing,” I admit. “It’s so, so cold.”

“Sensitizing, isn’t it?” he says quietly and casually spears a stalk of asparagus with one hand, while his other slips the ice up and down my slit until slowly he presses it inside of me. Goosebumps dance along my skin as I focus on my breathing and simply staying still.

Adrian repeats this process, bringing me to the edge and then stopping me with the freeze of an ice cube. Abruptly, he stops.

“You’re going to give us away,” he warns lowly, his lips at the shell of my ear and his warm breath tickling my neck.

That’s when I realize my fork is fisted in my hand and my eyes were closed tight.

“I know you can do it. My little slut knows how to hide it. Don’t you?”

My breathing is rushed when another piece of ice slips along my skin, and my hand trembles. Adrian watches this with curiosity burning in his eyes.

“Oh my,” I whisper and breathe, my eyes half-lidded.

“I want you to come for me.”

“I don’t think—” With two fingers he enters me, his fingers deft and knowing. As if he’s memorized just how to get me off.

“I know you can. If you must, lay your head down on the table.” The moment he suggests it, I obey, pushing the plate away and resting my head down.

He doesn’t let up, not even when the waiter questions if I’m all right and he orders Dramamine for me.

The second his footsteps disappear, Adrian’s touch becomes merciless and he whispers at my ear, “If you don’t come for me right now, I swear to God I’ll throw you over this table and fuck you until all of Manhattan hears you crying out my name. I couldn’t care less about this deal if I can’t even get my little whore to come on my hand.”

My lips part, my warm breath heating my face still resting against the table and hidden by my arms. That’s what does it. It’s what brings me to the edge. I clench around him thinking of what he’s just described.

The moment I’m granted my release, he removes his hand and it’s only a moment after that his hand rests on my shoulder while rubbing soothing circles. Adrian informs the waiter that I will be fine.

“Take these, sweetheart,” he says clear as day, without a trace of anything that’s just happened in his voice.

“If she needs anything at all, let us know,” the waiter says and I don’t dare lift my head just yet. I’m flushed and shamelessly sated.

It’s only once he’s gone that I dare to peek up.

“Bad girl,” Adrian admonishes me. “You’ll do better for me next time, won’t you?” he teases and I only blush harder.

Setting two small pills down on the napkin, he brings my plate back, placing it in front of me.

“The appetizers were … delicious,” he comments.

“You’re shameless,” I counter, still breathless and gather my fork once again.

“I’m hard is what I am,” he tells me, cutting into his steak.

“Do you want me—”

“No. No, not here.” He considers me for a moment. “I want to make sure you know what you do to me. Watching you come undone for me … that’s all I wanted.”

I don’t know what to make of him. He’s ruthless. Confident. On the side of being arrogant. But the things he does to me make me forget everyone and everything else.

“You look like you want to say something,” he comments, taking another bite. His food is quickly disappearing and mine’s barely been touched.

“I thought you would be different.”

“My reputation is not kind. I’m aware.”

“They say you’re an asshole and I thought it would be easy to hate you.” It’s the truth. And it slips out without censorship. Adrian smirks. “I’ve heard you’re merciless.”

“I am.”

I guide my fork over my plate and lift a bite to my mouth. “Are you an asshole or are you merciless?”

“Both. I can be vicious.” Adrian says this with a casual tone that makes me think he’s telling the truth. Of course, I already know this about him. There’s a reason the entire office is in a furor with him simply being in the building.

“I don’t know what to make of you.”

His eyes meet mine and his gaze lingers as if he’s waiting for me to elaborate. My heart pounds with curiosity and fear that this will go badly and I won’t have an office to go back to.

“There are people who earn big paychecks and then there are the people who write them,” Adrian begins. “I wasn’t born into wealth, but I watched my father work his way up to being one of those people who earned his paycheck. And then it was taken away from him after one wrong deal.”

My body goes as cold as the ice he used to play with me earlier.

“I’ve looked into it since then,” continues Adrian, “and it was a bad deal. He made a mistake. But that was after years of making the right decisions over and over, after working his way up only to be knocked down the second something went wrong. Not because it was deserved, but because he made too much and it would be too easy to give his tasks to someone else. Then the person who wrote the big check could simply make back that money by letting him go.”

This is by far the most Adrian has ever shared with me, and my curiosity is piqued again. I don’t know anything about his father, only what I’ve read about him, which is simple. He buys companies, breaks them apart, moves some departments around and eliminates others. He’s the man writing the checks and doing the firing now.

“That company went under within two years,” Adrian says quietly. Judging from his tone, this is important to him. The measured cadence of his words and the look in his eyes as he speaks.

“Without your father?” I manage to ask.

“Partially because of that. Partially because I bought the competitor. I hired my father. As the stock grew, I invested in other companies, including two crucial to my father’s former employer … And I dismantled them.”

Adrian uses a cool, almost bored tone to tell me this, and I’m even more afraid for my job now. He could do anything he wanted with the company. “Vindictive much?” I say, to cover the nervous pulse in my throat.

“He treated certain things, certain people, as if they were disposable. I showed him exactly what that meant. There are highs and lows in this business. Harsh decisions must be made. But the reasoning behind it is what matters. Is it for efficiency? For the bottom line? For power plays?”

“Why do you do it?”

Adrian’s eyes flash. “Because if there isn’t passion behind it, it shouldn’t exist. It’s a waste of time for everyone involved. It will fail, and the only ones who will benefit are the ones who are willing to sacrifice the purpose of it all.” His deep voice is filled with conviction. Adrian believes what he’s saying, and I imagine it’s why he fired so many of the executives today and sent them all packing. He has a passion for this business, not simply an investment.

“I learned a hard lesson early on: if you can’t beat them with morals and ethics, cut their throats and say that it’s business.”

A chill flows over my skin and numerous questions rest on the tip of my tongue. “I didn’t buy Holt and Hanover to cut anyone’s throat,” he states before I can ask. “The numbers are still being run with slight changes.” His tone is one of comfort, but the conversation is anything but. “When I know anything, you will as well. Do not worry.”

I can only nod as a shiver runs down my shoulders and I realize we’re back at the dock. The water is quieter and the chatter from the others much louder.

The waiter returns to check on me just then and he’s relieved to hear I’m feeling better. If my head wasn’t clouded with current topics, I would have blushed violently.

“Are you finished?” Adrian asks after time passes with easy silence, with a patient tone that says I could sit here for another hour, if I wanted.

Once again, I tell him the truth. “Yes.” I put my napkin on the table next to my plate.

“Good. When we get to the car I want you on your knees,” he mutters beneath his breath, standing up at the same time I do. A shiver returns, but this one is heated and causes flutters in places I shouldn’t be concerned with in public.

“So demanding.”

Adrian’s smile seems to light up the dining area. “Are you just now learning that, Ms. Parks?”