Just as I slipped on my crimson pencil skirt, zipping it up at the side, a knock came from the door. I expected it to be Chi, showing up with a final status update—I'd let them know their room wasn't flooded and how to get down the service stairs.

Without checking through the peephole, I yanked the door open. "There you are, I texted you—"

I paused when I realized it wasn't Chi standing there.

It was Axel.

He was in a slick, sexy black tuxedo, a rose gold bow tie around his neck. His hands were in his pockets, his left wrist adorned with a thick, golden watch. He stood stiff but his face was solemn, shaven, eyes sparkling as they roved over my body.

He arched an eyebrow as I remained frozen in the doorway. "Texted me?" He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I didn't get anything."

I flushed as I drew the door farther open. "I thought you were Chi. I told them to come find me once they were done with Violet's makeup."

He didn't force his way in, instead standing there almost timidly, waiting to be invited. "So...you don't want to see me?"

I moved aside and waved him inside. "Of course I do, I just—" the heat on my cheeks grew more intense, "come in, come in." I closed the door and pressed my back against it. "What's up? Updates from downstairs? Or did you helicopter more guests in while I was getting ready?"

Only forty-five minutes or so had passed since I'd returned to my room to find it intact. Yet it felt like it had been hours since I'd seen Axel coming up the stairs in his big boots, a toothy grin on his face, a giggling boy proud of what he'd accomplished. And he had every reason to be proud.

I wandered to the other end of the room, trying to distance myself from him. I knew better than to be alone in a room—any room—with him, and yet I'd welcomed him here and was now stuck. Again. How many times did I have to make this mistake before I learned?

Never be alone with this example of perfection.

"You look," he rubbed his chin and his tongue swept over his lips, "hot."

"Huh?" I glimpsed myself in the nearby mirror. My skirt was zipped up, but the black shirt I'd thrown on was unbuttoned, my black bra showing. I'd finished my hair and makeup—understated, but tasteful—and was barefoot. My comfortable three-inch heels were near the bed. "Um, thanks?"

Would he still think I was hot once I put on my headpiece and carried around my clipboard all day as I inspected every single detail? As I sweated profusely, stress pouring from my pores as I frantically ran about the room?

Would he still think I was hot once I got into wedding planner mode and worried more about the bride than about how much he turned me on?

"Red," he said, plopping onto the bed, loosening his cufflinks, "is a color that suits you."

I swallowed, a throbbing sensation coming to life between my legs. "Thank you." I snuck my hands behind my back. "So, did you come here to update me, or...to compliment me? Or," my hands formed fists, "is there yet another issue we have to rectify? I'm almost done getting ready, I need to—"

He lurched up and snagged my wrist, stopping me before I bent over to pick up my shoes. I melted at his touch. "No. Nothing is wrong." He released me, but towered over me, his soft breath coming in wisps over my forehead. "I came to make sure you were okay."

"Me?" I frowned. "Why are you checking on me? How are the bride and groom? They're the ones you should be checking on."

Axel brushed his knuckles down my cheek, then tilted my chin up. "They're fine, and they asked me to check on you. Because this is a lot of stress for them, for you, for all of us."

"It's my job," I said, reluctantly connecting my gaze to his, plunging into the gooey browns, the flecks of gold. "Stress is my middle name."

"And how can I help with that?" His hands slipped down to my shoulders, squeezing lightly.

"What do you mean?" I side-glanced at his fingers kneading into my shirt, then up at him. "You've helped enough. You've done more than expected for someone funding the event. There's no need to help."

Axel shook his head. "I meant, how can I help you? Not the wedding party, not the ceremony itself. You. What do you need?"

I shivered under his touch, finally understanding his intent—what he wanted to do. And how badly I wanted him to do it, but couldn't succumb. Not now, not with so much weighing on me, not when I'd already concluded this ordeal with him had moved to beyond physical. It was more than sex, by that point; more than the constant craving, the flashes of our nights past, the lust linking us together like a puzzle and its missing piece.

We couldn't be together, couldn't sleep together anymore. Not while he employed me, and not while my feelings and anxiety were all over the place.

"No." I backed away, waving my hands in front of me, trying to convince myself I didn't want him right now. "I mean, I appreciate it, and under other circumstances I wouldn't be able to refuse, but—"

"—we've been in the same circumstances for days, Vivienne." He approached me, his body language one of hunger, of need. I didn't need to look down at his crotch to know his manhood had expanded; and how I wanted to touch it, stroke it, feel it inside me. He stared at my chest, at where my bra-covered breasts were exposed, ripe for the tasting.

"These are different circumstances," I said, my heart racing in my ribcage. Racing because I didn't want to refuse him, and did want him to help me, to relieve my stress. And I knew how he could do that; a quick flick of a tongue, the press of a finger inside a wet crevice. I shook my head. "The wedding starts in," I searched around the room, struggling to not look at him as he blocked my way, "well I don't know exactly when, but it's soon."

"Not so soon that we don't have time to unwind," he said, voice smooth like honey, slick with desire.

His insistence wasn't unjustified. Of course he could tell that I did want this. I wasn't closed up, I wasn't recoiling. Even as I moved backwards, out of his reach, I didn't believe myself, my own thoughts. I poked my upper body out, I pressed a hand to my stomach, fingers aching to dip under my skirt, my panties. Everything about my demeanor was contrary to my words, and the more I tried to fight him, the more I no longer wanted to.

"Axel," I breathed, unsure if it was a warning to stay away—or a summons to come closer.

"I'm ravenous for you," he said, removing his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves. Again, his tongue traipsed over his lips, and I had to tighten my leg muscles to not lunge forward and smack my mouth to his. "More so now that I'm catching you unawares, unprepared, your shirt open like that, and those legs," he hummed, "are scrumptious. You are scrumptious."

"Axel," I breathed out again, the pulsating in my center growing harder to ignore. "You know I crave this, but we can't."

His fingertip gently pressed to my lower lip, puffing it out. "How many times have we said we can't, and we still did anyway? I know how bad this is. I know I shouldn't want you, and you shouldn't want me, but...the more I try to avoid this, the more it physically hurts to not give in."

"I know," I mumbled, resisting the urge to swirl my tongue around his finger. "It hurts me too, but I...my job...the wedding."

Axel pulled his finger away and scowled at me; a sexy, near villainous scowl that only made me want him more. "I already swore to you no one would know about this. Ever. And the wedding?" He peered at his watch and smirked. "We have some time, I promise. Let me soothe you, please. Please," he said, taking me by the waist, pushing into me. Sure enough, his manhood was hard and erect, yearning for me. It made me dig my hips into him, accepting. "Please let me taste you."

A soft moan escaped me. "I..."

It would take no effort to hike my skirt up, to fall onto the bed and spread my legs, to let him enter me repeatedly until we were both satiated enough to get through the wedding without wanting to devour one another.

"Yes." Fuck. "Okay." No going back now. "Taste me, then."

He immediately heaved me up, by my thighs, and settled me on the commode, by the TV. "I can't wait," he said, lowering to his knees, pushing my skirt up to my waist, revealing my already soaked black underwear. "I don't have a condom, so I can't fuck fuck you. But," he crept a finger up the inside of my thigh, "I can use other methods to get you off."

I stretched my legs further apart as his fingertip found my undies. He released a sigh of pleasure at the wet contact, and after rubbing over the fabric for a few moments, he tugged the underwear off, letting it slop onto the floor.

Without further ado, he squeezed into my slit, caressing up and down in slow, languorous motions.

"Fuck," I said, arching my spine, reveling in the tingling sensations his touch sent up my legs, my sides. I curled my toes as he picked up the pace, purposely flicking near my G-spot, but not quite on top of it. "God, Axel, I fucking want you so bad."

He grinned at me, his head barely visible as he concentrated on getting me wetter—if that was even possible, with how drenched I already was. "Yeah, I can tell, naughty girl." He snuck in another finger, and finally focused his attention on my clit, stroking it delicately at first, making my legs quake with every touch. "And I wish I could fuck you right now, but I'm still going to make you come."

I moaned as one finger inserted into my opening, the other furiously flicking at my sensitive area. "Oh, you will, for sure."

He slowed his motions, repositioning himself, hauling me to the edge of the commode, and bringing his face closer to my core. "Hold on there, young lady." His words blew tiny breaths on my vagina, and chills of desire crawled up my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I want you to come while my mouth is on you."

Seconds later, his tongue replaced his fingers, gliding up and down my crevice as if about to slurp me up whole. The tip was firm, warm, lapping me up with delight, sending me to the verge of explosion. I felt myself slipping off the black marble surface, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue, every expulsion of my ragged breaths.

When he started using his tongue and his fingers at the same time, sliding into my center in thrusting motions, I knew it wouldn't be long before I released every moan, every scream of desire I'd been holding in.

I collapsed as I came, my moisture pooling all over Axel's lips. He licked them as he straightened up, and handed me my underwear after helping me down from the commode.

"Better?" He offered his arm for me to use to balance myself as I put my panties back on and adjusted my skirt. "Will that keep you relaxed and zen throughout the ceremony?"

I twisted to peer at myself in the mirror, eyes widening at the shiny film of sweat over my forehead. "Fuck." I grabbed a tissue to dab at the perspiration. "And I suppose," I flipped around and eyed his bulge, "but don't you need some zen, too?" I gestured at the member I'd been envisioning jamming into me over and over. "I'd happily—"

He covered his crotch, and though he wasn't smiling, the corners of his lips twitched. "No need. You're right; we don't have much time. Though I'll be thinking about it all through the ceremony, and visualizing it maybe happening later?"

"Later?" I blinked at him, my arm lowering to my side. "You want to...keep doing this?"

His lips down-turned. "You don't?"

I hiccuped, caught off guard by his sudden shift in behavior. He stiffened, clutching his jacket in one hand, his phone in his other; all business and no pleasure, not anymore.

"It's not that I don't, but it's just..." I tossed the tissue into the trash and buttoned up my shirt, my face growing uncomfortably hot. "The more I fool around with you, the more I..." I sucked in my lips, looking anywhere but at him. I didn't want to view his scrutiny, his grimace, his disappointment. "It's an ongoing risk to my career, no matter how much you swear we'll never be discovered. And every time this happens, every time we..."

"Fuck?" He swung his jacket on, his face like stone—like when he'd first revealed his identity, pretending to have never met me before. Cold, curt, rude.

Was it something I said? Did he not take kindly to rejection?

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to him; we'd started off as a one-night-stand, then realized who we were to one another and that shifted everything into the realm of the forbidden. And instead of quitting, we developed an addiction to one another that was detrimental. Not only to my job, but to our hearts, our emotions. Well, mine, at least—he'd sealed his walls back up all of a sudden, and any trace of vulnerability on his part was gone.

"What are your intentions?" I snagged my shoes from the floor and sat on the bed to slide them on. "We've been fucking, like you said. A lot. It's going to get me in trouble, and I want to know what I'm risking everything for. Because as of tonight, well," I winced, "the wedding is over. There's the brunch tomorrow morning, but after that, I'm done billing you. My services are over. So what happens after?"

Axel swept a hand through his ginger curls and turned his back to me with a groan.

I didn't need a translator.

"Nothing? Nothing is fine, but I need to know that. You need to tell me that. Because, as it appears," I cleared my throat, "you haven't been telling me much since that night. You knew who I was, yet you never stopped this from happening. We keep fucking yet I don't know if it's temporary, ongoing, something we'll forget once we get home, something we'll pursue once you're no longer my employer. Is that," I stood, testing my balance in my shoes, "too much to ask?"

He twisted his upper body to me, one finger lifted to the air, his mouth opening to speak. But he froze, hesitant to unleash his thoughts, or unable to put them into words.

"Axel?" I took a cautious step forward, not wanting to startle him out of his stupor.

He shook out of it and spun back to the door, taking large strides towards it. "It's not too much to ask," he said, hand wrapping around the doorknob. "But I can't answer you right now."

He swiftly exited the room, leaving a spicy aroma in his wake; a cloud of his scent, a ghost of his body, as if I'd imagined him. As if I'd fallen asleep and dreamed of this encounter, and the images had turned nightmarish as I confronted him on what he wanted from me.

I slumped onto the mattress, holding my head between my hands. Had I gone too far? Broken the magic between us by asking for honesty, for a definition? Was the appeal in our relations strictly due to the hush-hush, sexy, unnamed nature of it all?

Any flitting visions of dating a gorgeous, intelligent, wealthy CEO shot out the window and plunged into the Gulf. Visions I hadn't even known had been swirling about in my mind since the moment I'd first laid eyes on Axel, unaware of who he was. How I wished it had remained that way. How I wished I hadn't listened to Chi and given free rein to my libido.

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