Page 17 of Cocky Tech God
“Well, this could finally be your chance to have your night with that dick in Prada loafers.” She laughed.
I chuckled, too, because it was funny. But I wouldn’t necessarily describe Hansen as a dick anymore. He was actually more gracious than I’d thought he’d be.
“As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, my dear Mia, I’ve got to go.” I stood, my feet sinking in the sand again, punctuating how unsteady I suddenly felt. “The first workshop is in thirty minutes, and I want to go over some notes.”
“Okay.” Mia was all business again.
“But keep me posted on the NuvaTech slide deck. Let me know if you have questions, I’ll be checking my emails hourly.”
Mia pressed her lips together, giving me her professional face. “And you keep me posted on Hans the Conqueror.”
“Bye, Mia.” I disconnected the call and stood, a smile pulling my cheeks back. But I didn’t feel humored. I didn’t know what the fluttering inside me was about. Probably my sugar levels were plummeting. I obviously needed that granola bar.
But one thing I did know was the kiss I shared with Hansen, or the part where we watched each other get off, would never leave this island. And if there was another kiss or otherwise, if I wanted there to be another, that would stay here too.
But I’d have the memories to last a lifetime.
Hansen
Back in my hotel room, the shower water rained down my aching muscles. My run had relieved some tension I’d had, but not nearly enough. I battled with myself about Lucia’s casualness with me. After what we’d done. Her pleasuring herself in front of me. Her watching me pleasure myself in front of her. And even more, the actual kiss that broke the rules she demanded. I’d never seen a woman dismiss these acts as if they meant nothing.
Lucia was no ordinary woman. And I was starting to see just how much she wasn’t ordinary.
I turned the knob to the cold setting and poured a handful of shampoo in my palm. Don’t think of her. I scrubbed my scalp, hard. Don’t think of her luscious lips. Her tongue. Lucia cut me off, leaving me intoxicated with her and her memory. And the thought of how it would actually be if we consummated this relationship. I couldn’t stop thinking of her and what we did.
None of it seemed real. But it was. All of it.
Before I knew it, I’d lathered my entire body, imagining her hands on me. I grew hard against the high-pressure water.
Be rational, Holte.
Lucia wasn’t shy. I always knew where I stood with her. I’d have to get clarity on what I was confused about. If I didn’t, a week of sharing a bed with her would be utter hell in heaven. I supposed I could look for accommodations elsewhere, per usual. But the prospect of sleeping in another woman’s bed was as interesting as dry toast, which was weird because I looked forward to meeting new women. Honestly, in the past, I made a sport of it.
As soon as I was able to figure out my feelings, I could get back to business as usual. As if the shared masturbation and kiss didn’t fuck up my head for longer than I cared to admit. I wasn’t celibate, after all. I had been once. I was a different man then. I was a young widower and didn’t think I could ever share a bed with someone again. But, after I’d grieved until I couldn’t any longer, for better or worse, I quickly realized sex and love weren’t mutually exclusive. Sex gave me the physical pleasure I needed without the emotional mess that I’d sworn I’d never be again. Losing my wife had been like dying myself. Once was enough.
After my shower, I walked around the room, the towel tied around my waist. Lucia had made the bed and laid out her sweatpants and t-shirt on top of the comforter. No panties anywhere, though. A long day of seminars, workshops, and meetings awaited, so I couldn’t afford a distraction of wondering where her panties were.
I had a job to do, even though being on Grand Cayman felt more like a vacation—as it always did when I was here—than a work convention. I’d been visiting the islands regularly for the better of the last decade, though the last several years had only been once a year. I proceeded to dress in dark, pressed jeans, a white t-shirt, and a summer gray linen sports jacket. When I was done, I grabbed my iPad and scrolled through my emails. And as I walked through the room to the door, I took in Lucia’s lingering sugary scent that remained in her absence.
On the way to my first workshop, I grabbed a black coffee at the butler’s station, and sucked it down. My phone rang, promptly I sent it to voicemail. The first-floor conference room was packed—not an empty chair in sight. As a panelist, though, my seat was on the stage. I walked to the front, finding my name plate next to Calista Everette. A fellow CEO whom I’d had a conference fling with last summer. A dull sensation passed through me the second we made eye contact.
Shit. I didn’t necessarily like running into old hook-ups.
She leaned over the table. “Fancy meeting you here, handsome.”
The woman was a knockout. Luminous and shapely, she seduced at will with her eyes and posh British accent. And she always got what she wanted.
“Hey, beautiful,” I said, putting my iPad on the table along with my nearly empty coffee cup. “You know how to put asses in the seats, don’t you?”
She laughed, her fingers lifting to play with the diamond solitaire around her neck. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Yes, I know.” I winked, walking around to take my seat. I faced the audience. “Looks like the biggest attendance at the conference thus far, isn’t it?”
“I believe it is.” Calista leaned into me, practically speaking in my ear. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Are you?” I didn’t move a muscle.
“I’ve been waiting a whole year. So much has happened since Sydney.” She chuckled lightly, reminding me of the last night we spent together.