Ethan signals to the waiter for the bill and pays it. Then he stands up.

  "I know it's still early, but we have a big day tomorrow. Shall we go back to the hotel?"

  Chapter Six

  Ethan

  "Good night," I tell Stella once we reach the door to her hotel room.

  No smile. No further niceties. No stalling. Just the usual parting words we give each other when our day at work is done and we have to go our separate ways.

  "Good night," she replies.

  I walk towards the next door. My hand slips into my pocket to retrieve my key card.

  "And thank you," Stella adds. "For accompanying me around the city today. I had fun."

  My lips almost curve into a grin. This from the woman who was insisting on going alone earlier. I want to tell her that I also had fun, but I'm afraid if I say another word, it will lead to all the other things I've been trying not to say. Or worse, if I spend another minute with her, I might end up kissing her, because that's what I want to do right now. I want to pin her against that door and kiss her thoroughly, then go inside her room and do other things to her with my mouth, my hands, my entire body. I'm doing my best to hold back right now, but I don't trust my resolve to hold, so I simply nod in Stella's direction and enter my room.

  Once inside, I close the door behind me and head to the bathroom. I shed my clothes, turn on the shower and step under the water. It feels good against my skin and soothes my muscles. As it trickles down my body through various paths, I close my eyes, draw a deep breath and gather my thoughts.

  Stella, what am I going to do with you?

  There are a million things I want to do with her, but I can't do any of them. We may be in Switzerland and we might have just spent a perfect afternoon together doing nothing related to work, but the fact that I'm her boss hasn't changed. I know that. The problem is that I'm no longer content to be just her boss. I'm not even content to be just her friend, even though I said that's what I'd try to be.

  Let's face it. This afternoon was a date. We did couple things - stroll around the city, walk in the rain under a single umbrella, try different chocolates and share embarrassing stories, have a quiet, romantic dinner at a roadside restaurant. And Stella enjoyed them all. I did, too. I liked spending time alone with her, learning new things about her and sharing experiences with her.

  I want to spend time with her in bed. The very thought of my cock buried inside her makes it throb. I groan.

  Maybe this is just lust. Maybe I've just been without a woman for too long, what with how busy I've been lately, and it's taking its toll on me like Asher predicted. Maybe I should just go back outside and hook up with someone. But no. Something tells me no other woman will do. In fact, earlier, when we were talking about my father's demand and Stella asked me if I had any woman in mind, all I could think of was her.

  I want her.

  So go get her.

  I'm that kind of man. I want something, I go get it. That's how I've come this far as a businessman. That's why I'm here in Zurich, determined to acquire this promising young company that many others have their eyes on. If I want Stella, and I do, I just have to take her. I've read her journal. I know it's what she wants, too.

  So what if I'm her boss? We're not at the office. In fact, we're thousands of miles away from it. She's my only employee here. Tomorrow, my brothers will be here, but for now, it's just the two of us. We can do whatever we want and no one will know. And then when we're done, we can just carry on with work as usual. We can do that. We're adults. Professionals. We can keep a secret.

  I place my hand on the tiles. Tempting. Very tempting. The thing is, it's not up to me. Sure, Stella may want it, but she has to agree to it. And she can't just hint at it. She has to say it. She has to come to me. Maybe if I give her a bit of a tug, she'll jump into my lap?

  I shake my head. Enough of this madness. I've had a long day. I have a big one tomorrow. I should be thinking of work, not of my cock.

  I let the shower do its work, then step out. I dry myself, put on the robe that's hanging from the peg on the wall and walk to my desk. I turn on my computer and get busy.

  After a while, I stop. I should probably be going to sleep, but I'm not sleepy yet. I pour myself a glass of Scotch and head to the balcony for some fresh air. To my surprise, Stella is also on hers, bent over the balustrade with her gaze on the horizon, her hair cascading past her shoulders and billowing as a breeze passes by. She's in the same bathrobe I am, but I can't help but think she looks better in it. I also can't help but wonder what she's wearing underneath - if she's wearing anything, that is.

  Just then, she turns her head. Our gazes meet. I feel mine broaden slightly as her amber eyes grow wide as saucers. Her lips part. Her cheeks take on a rosy hue. She hides them under her hair as she straightens up and turns away.

  Why? Her reaction seems too much to be just because she didn't expect to see me. She must have considered the possibility since our rooms are next to each other. Is it because I've once again caught her with her guard down? Or is it because I've caught her doing something she thinks she shouldn't be doing - like thinking of me, for example?

  Has she been thinking of me just as much as I've been thinking of her?

  I sip my Scotch. "Can't sleep?"

  "Yes," Stella answers. "Must be the jet lag."

  "Must be."

  "I thought I'd be tired enough to be able to sleep, but I guess I'm not. I thought the wine would help, too, but maybe I need something stronger."

  I glance at the liquid in my glass and then at her. "Want some Scotch?"

  Her eyebrows arch. Then she waves her hand in front of her.

  "No, thanks. I..."

  "I've got plenty," I tell her.

  She shakes her head. "I... I don't drink Scotch."

  And yet, she's looking at my glass.

  I lift it to my lips. "You just said you needed something stronger. This might do the trick."

  Still, Stella hesitates. Her eyebrows furrow as she taps her fingers on her arm.

  One more push.

  "You know, if you don't get your beauty sleep it will be a problem for me, too. I need you to be at your best tomorrow."

  That does it. She lets out a sigh and gives in.

  "Fine. I'll give it a try."

  I nod. "Come on over and I'll pour you a glass."

  The moment I finish speaking, I realize what I've just done - exactly what I was planning earlier. I've reeled her in. I've invited her to my room. And she's accepted. Just like that. For a second, I think of rescinding my invitation, but it's too late. Stella has already left the balcony.

  I finish my drink and head to the door. By the time I open it, she's standing outside.

  Isn't this going a little too fast? Nonsense. I've been waiting too long already.

  I step back. "Come in."

  It's her last chance to turn back - and she doesn't. She wraps her robe tighter around herself and walks straight to the balcony.

  I grab the bottle of Scotch and another glass and join her. I pour the drinks and hand her one.

  "Thank you," Stella says as she shifts her body towards me.

  As she sips her Scotch, my gaze wanders to the bare thigh peeking from under her robe. I'm guessing she's not wearing shorts or a chemise. Underwear?

  My eyes go back to her face just as it scrunches up in an expression of distaste.

  "Too strong?" I ask her.

  "A little."

  She sets down her glass and leans over the balustrade. This time, I catch a glimpse of her cleavage. No bra either?

  "This view is beautiful, isn't it?" she says.

  I turn to admire it while letting more of the Scotch glide down my throat. I suppose there is something fascinating about those rows of lights beyond the lake and the mountains looming above it all, but it's not as breathtaking as the sight beside me.

  She straightens up. "What's the most beautiful city you've ever been to?"

  I pause to think. "Rome, maybe. Or Florence. Or Paris."

  "Paris," Stella repeats with a dreamy sigh as she turns her gaze back towards the horizon. "I'd love to go to Paris."

  "I know."

  She gives me a puzzled look.

  "I just know you'd love it there, given how much you love it here," I explain quickly while inwardly kicking myself.

  I almost gave away the fact that I've read her journal, which would have spoiled the mood for sure.

  "Are you worried about tomorrow?" Stella asks me.

  I take another gulp of Scotch. "What makes you say that?"

  She shrugs. "It just seems like... you're a little tense."

  So she's noticed. I guess she can read me well by now. She's right. I am tense - but not for the reason she's thinking.

  "It's only natural, of course," she goes on. "Tomorrow is a critical juncture."

  "It is," I agree before finishing my drink and setting my empty glass down. "But that's not what's weighing on my mind."

  "Oh." She sounds surprised. "Then is it because you were thinking of your father's... request?"

  I chuckle. "I'm pretty sure 'request' isn't the word."

  "I don't think it's a bad idea, actually - you getting married," Stella says as she looks into my eyes. "You spend way too much time at work. You should have more for yourself. And it wouldn't be so bad to have someone to come home to, someone by your side to listen to your concerns and support you and cheer you up when you've had a bad day."

  Someone like her.

  "What about you?" I ask her. "Do you have any plans of getting married?"

  "Someday," she answers with a tinge of hope in her voice.

  At the same time, I see the fear in her eyes. Does she actually think she's not good enough for any man? Absurd.

  "Any man would be a fool not to want you," I find myself saying.

  Stella's eyes grow wide. Her cheeks turn red again. She looks away and grabs her glass of Scotch to swallow a few gulps. Then she sets it down and snorts.

  "Then all men are fools," she grumbles. "None of them have even tried to kiss me."

  Well, I'm not a fool. And I'm done being a coward.

  I move closer to Stella so that I'm standing right next to her and look into her eyes. "Do you want me to?"

  She draws a deep breath. I can see desire and sensibility battling behind her eyes. For a moment, I think the latter might win, but then she opens her mouth to let out a whisper.

  "Yes."

  Chapter Seven

  Stella

  I should have said no. It isn't right for Ethan to kiss me. But that wasn't his question. The question was if I wanted him to kiss me, which I did.

  I've been wondering how it would feel to have his lips on mine since the night we met. For the past two years, I've been dreaming of it, imagining it. Yes, even masturbating to it.

  And yet this is unlike anything I've ever imagined.

  Ethan's lips are soft yet firm, like my favorite pillow. The moment they touch mine, my eyelids fall. They press against me gently, reverently, and my heart flutters. Excitement bubbles up in my veins. His lips keep going, over and over as he runs his fingers through my hair until I feel the rest of my defenses crumble. My mouth relaxes.

  I kiss Ethan back tentatively. I don't know what I'm doing, after all. But Ethan clearly does. He traps my lower lip between both of his. Then I feel something warm and wet graze against my upper lip. I part my lips and push my tongue out just a little. It rubs against his and heat rushes all the way down to my toes.

  Ethan's tongue enters my mouth and my head spins. I grip his waist. His fingers become entangled with my hair as he cradles the back of my head. His other hand caresses my arm over the sleeve of my robe. As his tongue rubs against mine, I feel myself begin to melt - my capacity for coherent thought, my breasts, my knees, my belly, the most secret part of me between my legs. It tingles like never before inside my panties. The silk becomes moist. I shudder and moan into Ethan's mouth.

  He pulls away and I realize I've been holding my breath. I take a gulp of air only to lose it as Ethan kisses my ear.

  He's not done?

  His tongue traces the curves of my earlobe as his hand cups my jaw. It tickles and I draw in a sharp breath.

  What is he doing? Is he trying to drive me crazy with his mouth?

  He moves it to my neck, right above the collar of my robe. He plants a kiss right above my pulse and it starts to race. I wonder if he can feel it.

  Does he have any idea what he's doing to me?

  He drags his lips along the neckline of my robe. When they press against my cleavage, I go still. I'm not wearing a bra, so all Ethan has to do is tug on my robe a little and he can see my bare breasts. He can slip his hands in and touch them. And a part of me wants him to. My breasts are already swelling in anticipation. My nipples strain against cotton.

  But Ethan doesn't touch them, nor does he take a peek at them. Instead, he kneels in front of me. My eyebrows arch.

  Has he lost his mind? Is he drunk?

  I grab his arm. "What are you doing?"

  "Kissing you," he answers before lifting the hem of my robe to press his lips against my knee.

  There?

  Ethan continues, the trail of kisses going up my thigh as he disappears beneath my robe. Wherever his lips touch, my skin burns. With each kiss, my excitement rises a notch. And my concern.

  Where will this trail end?

  When his mouth reaches the edge of my panties, I place my hand on his shoulder, intent on pushing him away. Instead, I end up clutching it as he kisses the damp silk. I gasp as I feel his lips rubbing against my vertical pair.

  Ethan's kissing me... there? That's something I've never imagined before.

  He does it again and the tingling between my legs returns, stronger than before. He uses his tongue, the tip pressing against my nub, and my knees grow weak. I grip his other shoulder and lean on him to keep myself from falling. My nails dig into cotton.

  Over and over, Ethan licks me through the silk. My skin burns. My panties grow wetter and wetter. Any more and they might just dissolve.

  Suddenly, he stops. A sigh leaves my lips. Relief? Disappointment? I can't tell, but before I can figure it out, Ethan slips his thumbs beneath the garter of my panties and starts to pull them down.

  What?

  I pat his shoulder. "Ethan."

  His head emerges from my robe and he looks up. I gaze into his narrowed eyes.

  "You said my name," he says.

  My jaw drops. Shit. I did. I used his first name. The realization comes with a tinge of worry. Did I make him mad?

  "I'm s - "

  My intended apology evaporates from my lips as his curve into a grin. Desire gleams like embers in his coal black eyes.

  He disappears under my robe again and picks up where he left off. My underwear slides to my knees.

  The thought that his face is right in front of my most private part, that he's probably staring right at it, sets my cheeks on fire. Embarrassment prickles my chest.

  Isn't this a little too much of a kiss?

  Ethan's lips press against me. I hold my breath. Then I feel the tip of his tongue on my heated skin. I gasp.

  He's... licking me?

  Now I'm even more embarrassed. And not just that. I feel exposed. Vulnerable.

  "Not there," I tell Ethan as I push him away halfheartedly.

  He meets my gaze. "Why not?"

  "It... doesn't feel right," I answer.

  I know I took a shower just minutes ago and I don't have any diseases, but it still feels... dirty. It feels like something I shouldn't be asking any man to do, much less this man.

  Ethan's eyebrows furrow. "You mean it doesn't feel good?"

  Did it? I was too nervous to notice.

  "It's not that. It just feels..." I pause as I struggle to find the right word, or at least a better word than what I'm thinking.

  "Dirty?" Ethan plucks it out of my mind.

  I look at him in surprise. How did he know?

  He grins in amusement and I feel even more confused. Is he making fun of me?

  Then he takes my hand. After he kisses my palm reverently, he looks into my eyes, his gaze tender.

  "Don't worry," he tells me. "It's perfectly alright. Trust me."

  I don't answer. I can't. My mind is still a mess, torn between wanting and trying to do what's right, even though I can't figure out what that is. Is this really alright?

  Before I can convince myself, Ethan continues. I feel his tongue on me once more and my knees tremble. I suppose it does feel good. And it gets even better when he spreads me with his fingers and his tongue enters me, so good my breath catches and I shudder. A strange sound leaves my lips. It takes me by surprise.

  Was that... me?

  I know I've moaned before while touching myself. I've probably whimpered, too. But what was that just now? A... squeak?

  I clasp my hand over my mouth. This is embarrassing enough without making weird noises, too.

  Just then, a breeze blows, sending strands of my hair against my cheeks. They burn hotter as I remember where we are - on the balcony. Outside. In public.

  Shit.

  "Wait," I tell Ethan in a flurry of panic as I try to push him off. "Someone might see us."

  "No one will," he answers, staying under my robe.

  "But we're outside."

  "There aren't any other... buildings around."

  He's right. There's just the lake in front of us. Still...

  "What about the other guests? They could see us."

  "They'll only see you... standing on a balcony."

  Exactly. They'll see me.

  I'm about to say more but Ethan's tongue rubs against my nub. I gasp, then frown. I don't know what I find more troubling - the fact that he doesn't seem to care that we might get caught, or the fact that he's talking in between the wicked swipes of his tongue against my scorched, sensitive skin.

  "Relax," he adds. "Just enjoy. And if you're worried about getting caught, just try to keep your voice down."

  I try. I lean back against the balustrade and draw a deep breath. Then I close my eyes and try to forget about my surroundings. I focus on what Ethan is doing - on his warm tongue slithering inside me, lapping me up as I melt, on his fingers plucking my nub. They stir me up and the pleasure spreads throughout my body like fireworks going off beneath my skin. My toes curl. My fingernails rake the edge of the marble balustrade as a whimper escapes from my lips.