Silva and the Stars

10 | Rachel's principle

"How was that?" Rachel asks. 

I lean back in my seat, watching her.

I wish she was kneeling before me with her red lipstick lips around my dick and her hands running up my legs.

"Jon?"

"Hmm? Yeah, it was great."

"Are you even paying attention?" 

There is a fire in her words, burning a trail across the table to singe me. I sit up straighter. 

If I can be faulted for anything, it's probably paying too much attention. To the way her lips move as she speaks through the proposal we've written up, the shapes her hands form as she gestures to emphasise her words, the sweet curves of her breasts evident in her blush, almost nude coloured dress. 

The subtle contrast between her burnt caramel skin and her demure, creamy dress makes my blood boil. She's so sweet looking. It overlays her heart of steel and a will that could bend diamonds.

"It can't be 'great'. It needs to be fucking amazing if we stand any chance against Connor." She continues to point out things she thought were lacking in the proposal.

You're fucking amazing.

I muse the thought as I watch her stride around the small room we booked out in the library.

She's wearing her heels again as if she'd never be caught dead without them. But I know for a fact that at night she lets her hair down, wipes her face clean of make-up, reverts to looser, unbelievably soft clothing. And pads around the house barefoot. She's exceptionally light on her feet, evidence of a youth spent studying ballet. 

Although she never fails to hide her feet away when she notices me looking. "They're gross," she said the other night. "Point shoes mangled them."

Maybe they had, but all I noticed was the light touch she travelled with, marvelling that even without her heels, her calves still looked incredible, and I wanted to run my hands up her legs and wrap them around my waist.

It was bizarre, how easily she switched. You'd have no idea looking at the warrior dressed for boardroom battle before me, that she'd been in my bed the last week.

We'd work together, half the day looking for a way to outsmart Connor, the latter half working on our proposal to the board. We'd eat dinner, alternating cooking without thought. And at night, she would come to my room, slip under my covers and watch a show with me. We'd progressed to Game of Thrones after finishing Sex Education.

"Maybe we should have treated this more like an actual honeymoon," Rachel says contemplatively.

This thrusts me out of my thoughts.

"What do you mean?" 

"If this proposal doesn't succeed, we'll be married for the rest of our lives." She's smiling, it's obviously a joke to her. The rest of our lives is a bit of a stretch. But the foreseeable future isn't out of the question.

I nod to show my understanding. 

Appearances matter. And if we don't manage to wrestle control of the company from Connor in our next meeting, it would be better to remain married and continue to present a united front until we succeed. But I don't see that as such a bad thing anymore. 

If you'd told me two weeks ago, that I would actually enjoy spending time with my arch-rival, her being the sole person I interacted with – I would have laughed so hard that I cried. 

But now, the thought of spending the rest of my life alongside Rachel doesn't send me into arrhythmia. Rather, it's the thought of not sharing my life with her that gives me pause.

That causes a cold, wet sense of dread to wash over me.

"What? No scream of outrage?" Rachel asks, a wry eyebrow lifted. Her lips quirk into a smile. She pauses, then adds, "You wouldn't have sex for the rest of your life."

At that, I laugh. "Are you really saying that we're never having sex together?"

Rachel bites her bottom lip, trying to conceal her smile. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

I shake my head. "Are you not attracted to me?"

"It's not that -"

"So, you are attracted to me," I conclude, grinning.

Rachel shakes her head but doesn't deny my deductions. "It's the principle."

"On principle, you won't ever sleep with me? What kind of principle is that?" I smirk. "Rachel's principle to deny herself the most pleasurable experience of her life?"

Her eyebrows draw down. "My Dad always said not to shit where you eat."

I chuckle. "I agree with him."

She smiles, flashing her teeth. "So you agree with my principle? That it doesn't work for us to ever have sex? That would be mixing work with a relationship."

"What do you think we're doing now?" I ask dryly.

"Not having sex," she shoots back.

I lift both my eyebrows. "Obviously. But we're married and we work together. That's probably the epitome of shitting where you eat."

"But we both know it's not real," she responds.

Do we? Because I'm beginning to feel like this is more real than I'm prepared for.

"And we're not having sex. Sex complicates things."

"Have you never had uncomplicated sex? Mutual pounding it into the sheets?"

She meets my eyes. "Of course, I've had uncomplicated, casual sex. But never with a work colleague. Add on top that we're married, and if we want to keep the company we can't just walk away."

"And you're worried that you wouldn't be able to walk away if the sex was bad?"

Rachel huffs, looking away, which is a sign that I'm on the right track.

"Don't shit where you eat," she repeats under her breath. "Can you imagine if it was bad and we had to keep having meetings together?" She shudders in revulsion at the idea.

"I don't know if I should be offended," I say amusedly, "by how horrendous you think I would be as a lover, that you're worried about having bad sex."

Rachel shakes her head. "The opposite is just as troubling. If we were having amazing sex, you'd make excuses to see me every day so that we could fuck in my office. And we'd never get any work done."

"Please," I say, with a mischievous smile. "You'd be the one knocking on my office door, demanding that I fuck you right then and there."

Rachel laughs, and the sound warms me from the inside out. 

"But you understand why we can't have sex on principle," she says.

I grin. "All I understand is that you've clearly given this a great deal of thought."

An uncharacteristic blush warms Rachel's cheeks before she looks down at the proposal laying on the table. "Moving on, since we may be married until death do part us, and we only have one day left of our honeymoon, maybe the only honeymoon for the rest of our lives – how would you want to spend it?"

I give her a seductive look, my gaze trailing over her form. Smoulder on full power.

"No, no sex," Rachel laughs. "Nice try."

"I do have ideas... But first, what prompted this change of heart?"

"I feel bad for sending you out on all the adrenaline junkie courses, I didn't realise how much you hated them."

"Ah, guilt." I nod firmly. "A fair motivator. There is something that I've been wanting to do together." I stand.

"Not sex," I clarify with a smirk.

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a/n: Thanks for reading! I'd be so grateful for any feedback you have so feel free to vote and comment your thoughts. ♡