Battle of the Sexes

Chapter Eleven

Amity

The bathroom is as tasteful as the rest of his house. It's all white with steel grey and blue accents, lending a masculine feel to the sophisticated setup. It's impressive.

I clean up and get myself together, wondering how I go about this now. I'd be lying if I said I didn't come here with this intent. I did. I so absolutely did. But now that it's over and reality has shown her unpleasant face, there's more at play than just my need for an orgasm. There's a company on the line -- one that I won't lose.

My father's pride, my family's name, is more important to me than allowing myself to be sucked in by Carver. If he thinks he can get the upper hand here, he'll think he has the upper hand there.

Waltzing back into the living room, I have to remind myself of what I just said because seeing him sitting on the sofa in nothing more than a clean pair of boxer briefs is enough to stagger even the most focused soul. I'm seeing him for the first time without libido-glasses, but I'm not sure it makes any difference. I'm wet again already.

He's kicked back, his abdomen carved into perfect squares. The reading lamp behind the furniture shines on him, like it's showing me what I could have again if I'd just break down and let it happen. His legs are thick and muscled, a line running down the side of his thigh. I can't. I have to look away.

Making a beeline for my purse on the opposite end of the space, I hear the magazine in his hand ruffle as he sits. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's great," I say, lifting my handbag. I swallow before turning to face him. "Thank you for dinner."

"Where are you going?" His delectable body, the same one that just ravaged me from behind, stretches in all its glory as he gets to his feet. "I thought maybe we'd go round two ... with the tacos."

I mirror his grin, shaking my head. "It's getting late and I need to get home. I still have some work to do."

"It's almost two in the morning, Amity. Just stay here and get some sleep."

The word alone makes me yawn.

"Really," he continues, "you're running yourself ragged and that says something coming from me. The guy that never stops."

"I'll give you a tip," I say, heading to the foyer. "Raw, unfiltered honey will give you so much energy you won't be able to stand it. The best brand is at a little farm near Hanley's. It has bee pollen in it and it's been my saving grace since I discovered it."

Yawning again, I place my hand on the door.

"Maybe I should go home with you and get a taste," he says, trying to hide a grin.

I quirk a brow.

"Of honey," he clarifies.

"I'm out."

"That's too bad."

"I halfway think that's part of why I feel so sluggish these days. That and the lack of good, quality foods. And air. And the saltwater from Santa Monica," I sigh dreamily. "Yet, here we are. And here we stay."

"I agree. You should stay here," he laughs. "Just stay the night, Amity. I'll sleep on the couch."

"No, you won't," I wink. "You'll crawl into bed with me in the middle of the night and dazzle me with your wicked ways."

"So, you were dazzled?"

I shrug. "Maybe." I swing the door open. "Maybe not."

Heading into the hallway, I look at him over my shoulder. He's leaning against the doorframe, one arm grabbing the frame over his head. "Do I get to try again?"

"Probably not," I say, punching the button for the elevator. "We submit to the Board in a couple of days, and once I'm CEO, that whole handbook thing comes into play." He starts to protest, but the bell dings and I step inside the car. "Goodnight, Carver."

I wait to sag against the wall until the doors are firmly closed. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I blow it out steadily.

"You're fine. Everything is fine," I whisper to myself. "It's all about the destination. Not the journey."

That's bullshit. Even I know it.