Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

ROWE

In all the sexual fantasies I’d had about being with a man I cared about, I’d never imagined falling off a chair mid-grind and laughing my way through a dirty sixty-nine with a billionaire on the dining room floor of a multimillion-dollar beach mansion.

But then, I’d never, ever, even in my wildest dreams, imagined Bash.

“Oh fuck, yes , just like that,” he grunted as I practiced my newfound oral skills on him. “I think I’m lying on your shoe.”

I sucked the head of his cock and jacked the shaft with my hand just as he swallowed me to the back of his throat. “Shit, fuck,” I gasped. My knee scraped along the area rug and knocked the leg of the chair behind me, which then bumped the table and sent a pen and notebook tumbling over the edge to land on my shoulder. “Your interior designer should be drawn and quartered. The sisal rug isn’t functional.”

Bash snorted. His face was flushed and his lips slick with spit. “I don’t think she was imagining the dining room would function quite this way. You have ink on your shoulder.”

“Don’t care,” I said, breath heaving between sucks and licks. “Shut up and keep going.”

As soon as I saw him take my dick back into his mouth, I let go. A cross between a grunt and a whimper left me as my orgasm struck. I did my best to keep jacking Bash, but I wasn’t the best multitasker. Within seconds, Bash shoved me onto my back on the rough rug and bit out a quick “Can I?” before putting his cock against my lips.

I opened happily and sucked him down again, grabbing his bare ass with my fingers and encouraging him to fuck my face. It was a filthy scramble on the floor, the two of us sweaty and grunting as he thrust deep into my throat, causing me to gag, but as soon as I swallowed his release and tried catching my breath, Bash lay propped beside me, slowing his touches down to a gentle caress, a sweet tenderness that made my eyes sting.

“You okay?” he murmured between soft kisses to my cheek and neck.

“Mmhm.”

“You did so good. You sure I didn’t hurt you? Is your back scratched up?”

It was. It definitely was. And I was going to feel it in the morning. But…

“I liked it.” My voice was wrecked. “A lot,” I said, just to hear the result of the experience again. It made me feel grown-up somehow, which would have made me sound hopelessly childish if I’d tried explaining it to anyone. But I was finally here experiencing sexual pleasure with another man. And not just any man.

Sebastian Dayne was gorgeous and sexy. Smart and strong. He was an intoxicating combination of confidence and charisma. It wasn’t that he was too good for me—Daisy would have hated my insecurity, so I fought it—but it was impossible not to think that his life full of mansions, and cars with drivers, and high-powered corporate negotiations, and billions of dollars was not where I belonged.

“What are you thinking?” Bash asked. His fingers moved gently through the damp hair on my chest, and his spent cock lay sticky against the outside of my thigh.

“I want to do everything with you,” I said, admitting a different truth because I couldn’t bring myself to spoil the moment. “I like seeing you come. I like sharing that with you. There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now.”

Bash’s face lit up enough to strike my insecurity down. Seeing the joy on his face was worth exposing my vulnerability to him.

“Nowhere else?” he teased, glancing up at the table beside us and the chairs that had been knocked askew. “I was thinking maybe next time we could aim for someplace less dangerous, like a nice comfy bed. But I should have remembered how fond you were of furniture.”

“What can I say, Bash?” I said in my quirky billionaire voice. “Sterling Chase lives on the edge. You should see him under an antique desk.”

“Oh, believe me, that’s on the list, sir.” Bash sighed happily. “Bubbles’s loss is definitely my gain.”

I laughed out loud, then winced as the motion did not-great things for my abraded skin.

Bash rolled, pulling me on top of him, and stroked my cheek. “I feel exactly the same, you know. As much as I hate the reason we have to be here, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

We stayed like that for a while, touching and teasing and flirting until the discomfort of dried sweat and semen mixed with the hard floor finally urged us to get cleaned up.

Thankfully, the ease between us continued over the next several days. In fact, he was so sweet, and things were so easy, it was hard to remember all the reasons I shouldn’t get too comfortable.

In this bubble, just Rowe and Bash, it was easy to forget about pesky real-world things, like the people in Linden, Indiana, who were expecting me back any day now. Or how many favors I was going to owe Joey for taking over all my shifts for the week. Or the responsibilities that came with Bash’s wealth, like running Sterling Chase. Or the knowledge that all of this peace would end in a disastrous blaze once Bash confronted Austin back in the city next week.

Over the next few days, we returned to our work pulling data together, taking breaks now and then to walk hand in hand on the beach and enjoy every hot inch of each other’s bodies in bed at night. Sleeping with Bash was a dream… one I didn’t want to wake from ever . His warm, solid presence, usually with strong arms wrapped around me or thick thighs thrown over my legs, was better than any fantasy.

Unlike that first night we’d spent together, nothing was off-limits anymore. With no lies between us, we were free to be entirely ourselves. And every minute I spent with the real Bash Dayne, I liked him more.

One silver lining of Austin being a thieving asshole was that he’d proven Daisy Chain was a viable product, and I peppered Bash with a million business questions while we showered or relaxed on the sofa with our laptops: What was needed to bring the idea to the marketplace? What would be involved in the municipality beta test? What would the future stages of development look like?

Bash didn’t merely humor me with his answers, either. It was clear he knew a lot about the project already and had brainstormed dozens of ideas for improving it. On some points, like the need for a satellite uplink, we agreed completely. On others, like the amount of training the system would require, we argued passionately, but even that was kind of great because it showed how invested he was in this concept that, for so long, had felt like my burden to bear alone.

Also, I couldn’t lie—it was hot as fuck to see how his brain worked. I hadn’t known I had a competency kink until I heard Bash effortlessly calculate potential return on investment and expose pitfalls of my idea I’d never have anticipated myself. Watching his eyes spark and his face flush as he argued made me rock hard.

“If you think the interface will be complex enough to require training, I’d contend that we need to change the interface rather than—what are you doing?” he demanded as I moved his laptop to the coffee table and slid to the floor in one smooth movement.

I knelt between his knees, pushing them wide, and yanked his legs, forcing him to slide down the sofa.

“Say ROI again,” I whispered, running my palms up his thighs through his thin sweatpants. “Tell me more about cost-benefit analyses.”

Bash’s eyes sparked with a fire that had nothing to do with training protocols.

“If this is your attempt to win the argument—” Bash began, but he broke off in a moan when I mouthed his cock through the fabric. His hands flew to the back of my head, holding me in place as his hips instinctively bucked.

I pulled back so I could grasp his waistband with both hands… then paused. “Sorry, what were you saying, Bash?” I prompted, all wide-eyed innocence. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“I believe I was admiring Sterling Chase’s oral negotiation style,” Bash said roughly. “Very effective, sir. Please continue.”

“Do you think?” I let the backs of my fingers graze over his happy trail, and his cock twitched. “I’m happy to take the lead in any client meetings if my skills would be helpful—”

Before I knew it, I was on my back on the pristine white sofa with a very possessive, very aroused Bash looming over me. “Absolutely fucking not,” he growled. Then he proceeded to thoroughly prove his point.

In the end, I liked to think we both won.

In the back of my mind, I knew this was all too good to be true—that Bash had never mentioned anything long-term, and we were once again on borrowed time—but I forced myself to stay in the moment, to enjoy every single second of him while I could.

On Tuesday morning, when Rachel was out of the office, Kenji was busy working on something for Silas, and the stress of waiting to hear back from the investigator had started getting to both of us, I convinced Bash to leave the house and visit a thrift store with me.

“The white and beige is hurting my brain,” I insisted, looking over at the boring living room from my spot at the kitchen table. “I’ll think better after shopping. And we won’t spend much, I promise.”

“What if I told you I like neutral tones?” he said grumpily.

I nudged his leg with my toes. “I’d say you’re lying. You hate it more than I do.”

He snorted and shoved a bite of toast in his mouth.

I sipped my second cup of coffee and scrolled through my phone, reading a string of texts Joey had sent.

Joey: Dude. This Sandwich Shark guy is like a fucking Visa card—he’s everywhere I wanna be.

Joey: I park the truck for the Monday lunch rush? Guess who shows up a minute later and parks right beside me.

Joey: I go to the Glass Elephant Tuesday night to meet Chloe for a beer? Sandwich Shark’s already drinking with his friends.

Joey: I park the truck in the lot last night after the longest day in Burrito Bandito history? Fucking Sandwich Shark’s there, too, and he hands me a Chicken Parm with extra mozzarella, WHICH HAPPENS TO BE MY FAVORITE, and it’s still warm.

Joey: And he says… get this… he says, ‘Sleep well, Joe.’

Joey: Like, WTF is that even? Fucking diabolical, that’s what. How can I sleep with his song in my head?

Joey: BTW, what kind of lube do gay guys use? Just curious.

Joey: Also… how do you know if a guy likes you? I mean, the kind of like where he wants to rail you into a mattress? Everyone says girls are hard to read, but dudes are waaaay more complex.

I tried hard not to connect these dots to form a picture… and failed.

The texts from my parents were a whole lot less amusing. And in fact, I found myself stifling a groan.

“Problem?” Bash asked. “Something from the investigator?”

“No, no, nothing about that at all. Just messages from my parents.”

“Ah. They must miss you.”

“Maybe. My mother’s worried that I’ve joined a cult or ‘fallen in with a bad crowd.’ Dad says Bobby needs another guy at the Tech Barn, and he’s talking about hiring one of our neighbors.” I clicked my phone off and slid it into my pocket. “I need to call them, but not right now.” That would pop this bubble instantly. “Wanna go?”

“Yeah.” Bash carried our dishes to the sink.

“No second thoughts?” I teased.

“About letting you have your way?” He shook his head as he walked back to me. “I know what I’m in for. Remember, I’ve seen you in a bunny bow tie, pulling rainbow-colored hankies out of your pocket at the MoMA.”

I stared at him. No doubt my face was turning scarlet right before his eyes. “You… you saw that? Oh my god. I was so embarrassed. Stupid Joey and his stupid magician tux.” I took a breath. “At least it was colorful.”

Bash’s bark of laughter made my heart skip several quick beats like a smooth stone skipping brightly over still water.

This. Him.

Him .

I wanted more time with him like I wanted to breathe clean air… like I wanted to splash bright colors across this stark house, like I wanted to run pell-mell down the beach with Bash hot on my heels, like I wanted to put Project Daisy Chain out into the world and watch others thrive.

“You ready?” he asked, pushing back from the table and raising his eyebrows.

“So ready,” I said, and in that moment, I meant it. If Bash wanted to fly me to the moon, I would go.

I pushed the inevitable goodbye out of my mind.

* * *

“Absolutely no. Not in my house,” Bash insisted. “Not now, not ever.”

I looked at the turquoise rotary telephone in my hands. “It’s a 1973 floral Empress. How could you not want this? It’s a steal,” I teased. “Do you have any idea what an incredible conversation piece this would be?”

I would say this for the Hamptons—even the items in the thrift store here were higher quality than most of the stuff I found in Linden. My fingers itched to buy some of these pieces, restore them to glory, and decorate some of the nearly empty bedrooms in Bash’s house. Unfortunately, the price tags on these items were higher, too, and it was hard to stop counting pennies, no matter how many of them Bash had.

“It’s ugly and hasn’t seen a dustcloth in the new millennium. I can’t even imagine how many smears of lipstick have touched the mouthpiece. Pick something else. Hell, anything else.”

I set the phone back on a shelf and patted its handset. “Someone will love you again one day,” I murmured. “I promise.”

“Weirdo,” Bash said with an affectionate grin. He pointed to a stack of colorful but inexpensive throw pillows. “What about these?”

“Pfft. Cheap reproductions,” I said in a low enough voice to not be overheard by the employee at the counter. “Move along.”

We came to a vintage velvet-and-silk throw in deep green, Kelly blue, and rich berry colors, which was being sold for a song—possibly because it didn’t coordinate with anyone’s minimalist decor. I couldn’t help my happy sigh. “We’re getting it. If you don’t like it, don’t tell me. Get it anyway and consider it my payment for sexual services rendered this week.”

Bash grabbed it and bundled it under his arm without even looking at the tag. “Done. What else?”

“You’re not going to argue about how many people’s skin cells have sloughed off onto it over the years?”

He made a face. “Are you trying to gross me out?”

I nudged his arm with my shoulder. “No. I’m just surprised at how quickly you agreed.”

“I’d do anything to put the look on your face you got when you saw this,” he said.

I wanted to tell him he already did. That I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself enjoy anything as much as I was enjoying this time with him, even though the unanswered messages from my parents made my phone feel like a lead brick in my pocket.

Instead, I leaned up to press a kiss against the edge of his mouth. “You’re an easy mark,” I whispered.

The sound of his laugh was enough to convince me what he’d said was true. If making me happy felt anything to him like the way making him laugh felt to me, I could understand his willingness.

And if it soothed some little place inside me to think that Bash might think of me every time he saw this throw on his couch, long after this week was over and I was back in Linden… well, that was my own business.

After selecting a pair of abstract paintings of colorful flowers from a local artist, we checked out and put our selections in the Land Rover Bash kept at his Hamptons house. We walked through a few more shops and made our first major purchase—an Art Deco walnut armoire with a hidden compartment that had made me catch my breath at how stunning it was… and then again once I saw the price tag. I tried to hurry Bash along, but it was too late. He’d already noticed my one-sided love affair with the piece and arranged with the clerk to have it sent to his house later in the week.

“You can tell me where it needs to go and what needs to be done with it then,” Bash insisted, strolling me out of the store and down the street. He paused in front of a quaint-looking cafe and inhaled the yeasty scent from inside. “Let’s get lunch.”

Bash is a grown man who can decide how he spends his money , I told myself repeatedly as we walked inside. The decor was charming—funky and colorful, with gleaming wood tables and sunshine streaming in the windows—exactly the sort of place I loved. Relax and enjoy this, Rowe.

But all my bold self-talk evaporated when the host handed us menus.

“Twenty-five dollars for a turkey sandwich?” I squeaked when I saw the prices. “Let’s go home.”

“It’s a panini.” Bash’s calm response was betrayed by his grin. “On rustic, artisan bread.”

“Does grilling the bread truly cost the extra twenty bucks? Seriously? Who the hell wants to live in a town that—” I stopped abruptly when I realized the server had arrived. An older woman with laugh lines next to her eyes asked if I preferred still or sparkling water. “Which one is free?” I asked.

Bash’s feet trapped mine under the table, and his soft laughter surrounded me, so infectious our server joined in.

“Neither,” she said with a wink. “If you want free water, the restroom taps are your best bet.”

My jaw dropped, and Bash grinned. “She’s kidding. Still is fine. I’ll also take a limeade. Rowe, would you like wine or a cocktail?”

I glanced at the drinks menu and tried not to choke at the prices listed. “No, thank you.”

“He’ll try the rum punch,” Bash said, raising that devastating eyebrow and daring me to contradict him. “Thanks.”

Once she’d left, he met my eyes. “Lunch is on me. I should have said that before.”

I felt a hot flush of embarrassment and stared out the window at the shoppers strolling by. “I hope so,” I grumbled, “or else I’ll be washing dishes in the back room after this.”

He reached across the small table to grab my hand. “I’m sorry you feel uncomfortable. I should have thought about it before I suggested this place. I thought you’d like it.”

“I did. I do . I like it so much, Bash, and I love that you picked it. I just…” I swallowed my pride and tried to set my nerves aside. “Last Monday night, I went on the website for the Malachite and nearly had a heart attack when I realized how much I have to pay you back for my half of the night we spent there. And the stuff for the house is one thing, since that’s yours, but this lunch… I don’t want you spending money on me, Bash.” I chanced a saucy grin. “Sterling Chase is a sure thing. You don’t need to wine and dine me. Okay?”

“But I like it,” he said slowly. “I like seeing you smile. Giving you new experiences. And there’s no way you’re paying me back for the hotel when that was my idea.”

“It’s easy to say that when you have money. Not being able to pay my way makes me feel…” Inadequate. Useless. Like a freeloader. “Like a turtle in the wrong shell. You live in a very different world than I do.”

Bash pulled my hand up to kiss my knuckles. “I like your shell. I want you to wear whatever shell you want and know that you are a one-of-a-kind turtle.”

While his words warmed me, I had to doubt them. “You’ve known me for a week. I don’t want you to look back and think I’m using you—” I broke off at his intense gaze.

“It’s been twelve days,” he corrected. “But you bring up a really good point. For twelve days, you’ve made me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met, you’ve given me better advice than any corporate coach ever could, and you spent hours working to correct a problem that my company—a company I’m on the board of directors of—caused when their employee attempted to defraud you of your life’s dream. We need to figure out how I’m going to repay you for all of that.”

“What?” I demanded, affronted. “I would never want repayment—” I caught myself and sighed. “Which is your point,” I grumbled.

“Yup. Rowe, I told you—there’s nothing I like better than seeing you smile, whether we’re watching polo, or sitting on the couch, or eating overpriced paninis. Being with you isn’t something I could possibly put a value on. You use your talents to help people all the time, and you give that gift freely. Money happens to be one of the things I have to give, and choosing to share it doesn’t have to create entitlement or negative feelings. You were the person who helped me realize that. So, I don’t want to dismiss your feelings about this, but I’d really like you to try to understand mine. Okay?”

What the hell was I supposed to say to something that heartfelt except… “I’ll try.” And then, because I didn’t know how long this moment of bravery and maturity would last, I found myself blurting out the hard questions. “Then what? What happens after Monday, after the board meeting where you confront Austin with the evidence of his fraud? What happens to… to me? What happens to Project Daisy Chain?”

Bash leaned closer and cupped the side of my face. His touch was so affectionate and gentle I closed my eyes to savor it. “Anything you want.”

We were interrupted by the server delivering our drinks. I hid my goofy adoration for Bash behind the Mason jar of sweet punch topped by a stack of fresh fruit and a floppy flower of some kind.

“Motherfucker,” I groaned after taking the first sip. “I would sell that antique throw blanket for another one of these if I had to.”

“But you don’t have to. Because you know that I’ll buy you as many as you want, just for the pleasure of watching you enjoy them.” Bash leaned in to kiss the sweetness from my lips. I tasted the lime and vodka on his and thought for a split second that I’d never been in a more perfect moment than this.

And then it got even better.

Bash said, “Of course, Sterling Chase would be honored to continue bringing your concept to market, if you’d trust us to. I would make sure you got the best possible terms.”

I gaped at him, unable to say a word.

“Before you tell me to fuck off,” Bash said quickly, “hear me out—”

What? “Why would I tell you to fuck off?”

“Because Sterling Chase was the company that defrauded—”

I clamped a hand over his mouth. “We’ve already established that wasn’t on you or the rest of the board. As long as anyone involved in the fraud isn’t part of the project moving forward—”

“Fuck no,” he muttered against my palm before pulling my hand away. “I will get to the bottom of this and root out everyone who was involved. I promise.”

I took a deep breath and felt the stress of all the years of pursuing my dream begin to chip off of my shoulders and fall away. “And you wouldn’t be doing it because you felt like you had to?”

Bash set down both of our drinks and took my hands in his. “Austin brought the idea to Sterling Chase because it’s a winner, Rowe. I knew it the first moment I heard about it. This idea is going to save lives and help optimize emergency services. You know that’s a mission near and dear to my heart. I’d be thrilled to be a part of bringing it to fruition.”

His words felt like an oath, like a promise. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t trust him to keep it.

And if getting Project Daisy Chain made—the one and only goal I’d focused on for years—no longer felt like quite the happily ever after I’d dreamed of, well, that was my own stupid fault. Cinderella only got one wish.

“Thank you, Bash,” I whispered. “Truly.”

Bash leaned over to kiss my cheek. “You thrill me,” he said softly before nuzzling the side of my face and brushing his lips under my ear. “Landry was right. I’ve been looking for excitement in all the wrong places. You inspire me to remember who I am and who I want to be.”

As always, proximity to Bash made my mouth start running independently of my brain. “I’m actually pretty boring when you get to know me.”

Way to sell it, Prince.

Bash pulled back and met my eyes. His shone with life and happiness. “A quirky billionaire like yourself, Sterling Chase? Never in a million years.”

We talked through turkey paninis and dessert cocktails. We talked until the sun dropped low in the sky.

We talked until even the tap water was at risk of running out.

And then we went back to the house and let our bodies do the rest of the talking for us.