One Night, Six Days & A Date Later

2. That Night: Naughty Cheating Ivette

“Stay,” Aaron said, pressing feverish kisses to her temple, her cheeks, and her neck. He walked them into the couch and before he could push her on it, Ivette swerved, putting a safe distance between them.

Aaron frowned, blonde brows knitting together.

“Ron, there is so much work to do tonight with this merger and the Global Awards coming up. I can’t stay,” She said, shifting the neckline of her camisole to cover the exposed flesh of her chest. It wasn’t entirely a lie. It was true that there was much work to do but not tonight.

She couldn’t stand being touched by him right now.

“You could stay over, and we could. . .” Aaron trailed off as his eyes skimmed her figure, heating up when they touched her chest. He didn’t need to finish, not with him looking at her like she was his meal.

Ivette turned before she could give in, grabbing her bag and jacket from the couch. “You know I would love to, Ron. I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

He nodded tightly, clearly displeased with her decision. “Sure. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

Ivette paused. “Why? Lunch date?”

He plunked down on the couch, snatching up the remote. “No. The merger will be signed at King Corp tomorrow. Did your father not tell you that?”

She blinked, her only sign of surprise. No. They didn’t tell her that. They didn’t tell her anything concerning this and she couldn’t help but wonder why. Now that there would be a merger, where would that place her in the hierarchical levels? If her parents had a son-in-law to take over, what use did she have to them other than breeding more heirs for them?

She shuddered at the thought. There was no way she’d let them take it away from her. She worked her ass off for years, bringing the business to the height it currently was. She wouldn’t let them displace her, even if it was for Aaron.

She left the apartment. She was too wound up tight to go back home, so she deviated from the route home, taking the path to the newest, liveliest club that opened over a month ago. Tempest Bar and Extras. Riley had recommended it for ‘unwinding’ and even got her a golden entry ticket, but Ivette had never gotten around to checking it out. Too much work on her table and too many people watching her.

Today, however, she didn’t give a s**t about any of it. Even if it was for an hour, she would let it all go.

As she got out of the car, she slid off the ring and dumped it on the dashboard. Aaron would throw a fit if it got stolen. Plus, it would draw attention to her.

She then straightened, shrugging off her suede jacket, leaving only the camisole and the tux pants on. The aim was to lose the official air and look about her. She pulled her hair out of the bun and ran her fingers through it, straightening it and arranging the strands the best she could.

The wind whipped at her hair and her clothes and she smiled faintly as she breathed in. Nothing felt as good as the summer breeze currently kissing her skin and tousling her hair. Nothing smelled as fresh. The knots in her stomach unraveled a little just by breathing in. She should come out more, she considered as she shut the door.

Her phone vibrated and Riley’s reply to her, ‘Are you free?’, message popped up.

“ Sorry, Ivy. Can’t make it. I got caught up with something,” Riley wrote back and Ivette was pretty sure that ‘something’ was the hunk she had been flirting with at the party.

Ivette’s lips twitched as she wrote back. “That good?”

Riley’s reply came in a few minutes later as she strode across the street, to the suited bouncers by the huge double doors that placed a damper on the music within. She could feel the bass vibrating off the floors as she drew closer and her pulse pounded in synch with it. Impressive.

“Yassss. . .” Riley had written back and Ivette gagged playfully before putting the phone away. She slipped out the ticket from her pants and handed it to the bouncer whose hand was already outstretched. The other pushed at the door and Ivette prowled into the pulsing building.

*****************

Ivette poured the shot of Orange Vodka into the glass of Redbull and chugged it with half a thought. She was laughing, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. She grabbed another shot and knocked it back, savoring the slow burn as it slid down her throat.

Her gaze slid over to the drunks stumbling about the dance floor in an euphoric daze and her attempt at sliding off the stool to join them had her stumbling and tossing the glass shots everywhere. Her vision swam and she tipped her head back to the white classic ceiling, laughing at herself.

Yes. She was drunk as hell, and daddy wasn’t there to tell her what to do. Oh, he’d be mad when she showed up at the merger signing, reeking of alcohol.

The thought amused her enough to stagger toward the waiting Vodka shot and she tripped on her heels, nearly falling on her face.

A warm strong arm snaked around her waist, righting her.

“Thank you—“ She murmured, turning to look at the man who held her and her words died in her throat.

He was gorgeous. Sinfully, devastatingly gorgeous. It struck her stupid and incapable of words. Clear brown eyes held her gaze and she had never felt so naked in her entire life. His eyes pierced through the armor she constantly kept up, saw right through her—the good, the bad, and the crazy—and pieced her together again like she was some puzzle he had figured out. His inky black hair fell over his right eye as he tightened his grip around her waist, lest she fall, and she watched in awe as his hair gleamed in the light, shimmering like the surface of a pool would when moonlight graced it.

His lips moved, drawing her attention to the sensuous curve of his beautiful mouth and Ivette wondered what it would feel like to trace it with her fingers, her tongue.

His eyes crinkled with amusement, like he could read her thoughts, and even after he set her down on the stool, she simply stared at him, awestruck. She had never met or seen anyone so. . .hot was an understatement. Her gaze drifted down to this white shirt and the strong tan column of his throat, exposed by the undone buttons.

She swallowed. Perhaps, it was the alcohol in her system making her think such dirty and hot things. She wanted to trace his strong, stubbled, beautifully cut jaw with lines of kisses. She wanted to touch his hair, just to find out if it was as soft as it looked.

And his lips. . .

Ivette turned from him and picked another shot from the table. She tossed it back and tossed back another in quick succession.

She heard him speak to the bartender, requesting something classy, yet strong, but Ivette wasn’t listening to his words. His voice. . .The tempting timbre of that sensual voice caressed her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Yeah. The alcohol was definitely messing with her. There was no other explanation for her miserable line of thoughts. She had never looked at anyone like that—except for Aaron—but this was different. Weird on all accounts. She needed to shake it off.

She tried to get off the stool again and she stumbled slightly before righting herself.

“Careful now,” That delicious voice resonated through her again and Ivette shuddered. He had an accent that she would be able to place if her brains hadn’t bailed on her. She shot a glance in the man’s direction, eyes snagging on the taunting smile that brightened his features and Ivette threw caution to the wind.

She sashayed over to where he stood and tipped her head back to look at him. “Who are you?”

He chuckled, sipping from his glass, sound almost lost to the constant bass and booming in the background. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Ivette tucked a lock of her behind her ear and glanced at him through lowered eyelashes. “Can’t blame me for trying to place a name to the stunning face.”

“Oh?” He purred and Ivette’s toes curled in her heels. He lifted the glass to his lips again and Ivette had absolutely no idea what came over her as she intercepted the glass before it reached his lips.

She held his gaze as she took the glass and lifted it to hers and she didn’t look away as she drank from it. His eyes darkened as he watched her but his grin of amusement only widened. A mix of strong alcohols went down her throat. The taste of the mixture was so acrid, Ivette choked and a few drops went down the wrong hole. She started to cough.

“What is that? I've never tasted anything so vile,” She said amidst coughs, setting the glass down. Her eyes watered and her head spun.

The man chuckled, extending a checkered handkerchief that appeared from nowhere. “It is an acquired taste.”

She took it from him and dabbed at her chin and her eyes before slipping it into his shirt's pocket, giving him a nasty smile she had never dared giving anyone before. “And you?”

His sensual smile sent the butterflies in her stomach scattering, seeking for a means of escape. He suddenly leaned in and Ivette found her heart racing, her body leaning into the rock-solid heat of about six foot five inches that he was. His scent. . .it was intoxicating. He smelled like spice, man, and musk.

“Dance with me, lass,” He whispered, warm breath tickling her ear.

Her toes curled and heat pooled in her core. Something gnawed at her subconscious. Something she should recall. She peered down at her hand, her bare fingers, and the gnawing feeling tripled.

However, it was soon forgotten when the man's hand circled her waist, tugging her along with him gently to the dance floor.

She stumbled again, the effect of alcohol increasing now that she moved, but he held her before she could fall, pulling her closer to him as they staggered into the dancing throng. She couldn't tell if she was staggering or he was. Her world kept spinning and she laughed, digging her fingers into his arms that held her waist and cupped her ample backside.

His eyes beheld her with something she couldn't place and suddenly, it was just the both of them in the booth. Everything else faded but them and the music.

So Ivette danced, reducing herself to the undulating beat of the music, to the feel of his body pressed flush against hers, to the sweat sliding down her body as she writhed on the dance floor.

She raised her hands to her hair, swishing her hips left and right, and she might have been screaming and laughing at the top of her voice, without a single care in the world.

His brown eyes guttered in a way that told Ivette he understood. Though he didn't know s**t about her, though she hadn't told him a thing about herself, his eyes, they showed understanding. Of who she was. Of what she needed right now. That for the first time in... forever...in her life, she unleashed herself. She was wild, but she was free. Even if it was the alcohol, she savored it.

He savored it too, drinking her in with his heated glances. Watching her hips sway to the song. She might have swished her hips seductively. He might have noticed, if the sinful look in his eyes was any indication.

He matched her, step for step and when he pulled her closer, their bodies melded together like they were cut from the same cloth.

His fingers delved into her hair and a small sound escaped her as his fingers brushed her scalp. That coupled with the fire in her blood, Ivette erupted.

She twisted, moving around him in a dangerous invitation as she traced her manicured nails around his neck, down his strong back. Down his slim torso. She cupped his firm backside and giggled naughtily when he whirled around, catching her wrist.

He pulled her to him roughly and she bit on her lower lip to prevent another giggle from escaping her lips.

"I'd take you home, right now, lass, but you are drunk. Perhaps, some other time." His voice was husky, and his accent was thick--Scottish-- yet, the smooth expression remained on his face. A mask, very much like the one she wore every single day.

Ivette didn't like that much. She wanted to see more of him. Feel more of him. She leaned in close enough to share breaths with him and she whispered, "Now is as good a time as any."

And she kissed him.

It was tentative at first, testing, searching, tasting. He stilled against her, fingers slacking around her wrist.

Fucking hell. A moment of sanity gripped Ivette and she went still too. What was she doing kissing--

His tongue swept in, touching the roof of her mouth, and the thought dissolved into nothing.

Her hands tangled in his dark curls--they were indeed as soft as they looked-- and his tongue teased her in cruel addictive strokes that had her knees buckling.

His hands went about her, squeezing her backside and grinding her against him.

She moaned against his lips, digging her nails into his back.

She had never felt such a thing before. It felt like she would combust.

Her world narrowed to his lips against hers, hot against her neck, nibbling, sucking and she shuddered, unable to keep upright.

He hoisted her up without much effort and she locked her legs around his torso. He moved, without breaking the kiss and she had a vague sense of being pushed up against the wall...or door.

His hands found the hem of her camisole, pulling it out from where it was tucked into her pants. She bucked her hips against his when those traitorous fingers dove underneath her shirt, palming her over the red lacy bra she'd slipped on that morning.

There was that gnawing sensation--she was forgetting something rather important--but she could hardly think when his palms kneaded her breasts like that.

Cool air kissed her skin and she had enough awareness to notice they were outside, walking past her car, walking further down the street.

He murmured something against her lips but she could hardly hear him over the pounding in her temples, the steady ache between her legs, their harsh breathing, and her thundering heart.

It was a crazy blur after that.