Chapter 14: The Tease

Harper woke Wednesday morning in the Parisian hotel suite, the faint ache of anticipation thrumming through her body. Zane's arm was slung across her waist, his chest pressed to her back, his breath warm against her neck—a possessive anchor after last night's playful, torturous buildup. They'd stopped short of the edge—hands roaming, mouths clashing, bodies teasing until they were both panting, wound tight with want—but his growled promise of Tomorrow had lingered, a vow she'd felt in every lingering touch. Now, with the second day of the design expo looming, she decided to turn the tables.She slipped out of bed, his groan of protest muffled by the pillow as she padded to the bathroom, her plan forming with a wicked edge. The expo was a professional battlefield—vendors, clients, high stakes—but beneath it, she'd wage a private war. She showered quick, letting the hot water wake her fully, then raided her suitcase for the weapons she'd packed on a whim: a black lace lingerie set—sheer bra, barely-there panties, garters—and a dress she'd saved for a moment like this. The dress was a gamble: charcoal gray, semi-sheer, clinging to her curves, its fabric thin enough to hint at what lay beneath without screaming scandal. In the right light, the lace would peek through, a deliberate tease for Zane's eyes alone.She dressed with care, the lingerie hugging her skin like a secret, the garters snapping against her thighs as she slid on the dress. A black blazer toned it down for the expo crowd, but she left it unbuttoned, the sheer fabric catching the morning light as she stepped back into the bedroom. Zane was up, leaning against the headboard, coffee in hand, his dark jeans slung low, shirtless and tousled. His gray eyes locked onto her, narrowing as he took her in, a slow smirk curving his lips."Fuck, Harper," he rasped, setting the cup down, his voice rough with sleep and something hungrier. "What's this?""Work attire," she said, innocent as sin, adjusting her blazer with a shrug. "Expo day two. Ready?"He stood, stalking toward her, his gaze stripping the layers she'd so carefully put on. "That's not work. That's a goddamn invitation.""Is it?" She tilted her head, stepping back as he closed in, her heels clicking on the hardwood. "Guess you'll have to find out."His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, pulling her against him—hard chest, warm skin, the bulge in his jeans pressing her hip. "You're playing with me," he growled, his free hand sliding to her waist, fingers brushing the sheer fabric, grazing the lace beneath. "I can see it.""Good." She smirked, tugging free, her pulse racing as she grabbed her tablet and bag. "Keep up, Carver. We've got a day to get through."The expo was a blur of noise and ambition—booths packed with sleek furniture, lighting displays casting dramatic shadows, voices pitching and bartering. Harper moved through it with purpose, her blazer open, the dress shimmering as she met vendors and clients, her confidence a shield. Zane trailed her, a storm at her back—suit sharp, jaw tight, his eyes flicking to her every chance he got, catching the hint of lace when she bent to examine a sample or leaned to shake a hand. She felt his stare like a physical touch, a heat that built with every hour, every stolen glance.By midday, they'd secured a deal for custom cabinetry and a meeting with a French hotelier, but the tension between them was a live wire. At a coffee break, he cornered her by a sleek espresso bar, his hand brushing her lower back as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You're killing me," he murmured, his fingers dipping under the blazer, tracing the garter through the dress. "That lace—I can't fucking think straight.""Try harder," she whispered, sipping her espresso, her lips curving as she stepped away, leaving him glaring, his hands flexing like he might drag her off right there.The breaking point came late afternoon, during a panel on minimalist design. She sat beside him in the crowded auditorium, her blazer off now, the sheer dress catching the stage lights, the lace a shadow beneath. His thigh pressed hers, deliberate and firm, and when she crossed her legs, the fabric rode up, flashing the garter strap. His hand shot to her knee, gripping hard, his breath hissing out as he leaned close."Stand up," he growled, his voice low, urgent, masked by the applause as the panel ended. "Now."She smirked, rising slow, letting the dress shift, knowing he saw everything—the bra's outline, the panties' edge—before slipping the blazer back on. He followed, a predator on her heels, weaving them through the crowd, his hand on her elbow steering her past booths, past Julian Reese's smug wave, into a side hall. He pushed open a door marked Bureau Privé—a private office, dim and empty, a desk and chair the only furniture.The door slammed shut, and he was on her—backing her against the wall, his mouth crashing into hers, a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. She moaned, loud and unrestrained, her hands fisting in his jacket as he tore the blazer off, tossing it aside, his fingers digging into her hips through the sheer fabric."You did this on purpose," he rasped, his lips on her neck, sucking the bruise he'd left, his hands yanking the dress up, baring the lingerie fully. "Fucking tease.""Guilty," she gasped, clawing at his shirt, buttons popping as she bared his chest, her nails raking his skin. He groaned, spinning her to face the desk, bending her over it, the wood cool against her stomach as he pressed himself behind her—hard, insistent, his slacks straining."Quick," he muttered, his hands tearing at her panties, the lace ripping as he shoved them down, his fingers finding her, wet and ready, drawing a sharp cry from her throat. "Can't wait.""Then don't," she panted, pushing back against him, her voice a challenge as she braced on the desk, the expo's hum faint beyond the door.He cursed, unbuckling his slacks, freeing himself—hot, pulsing, pressing against her—and thrust in, deep and sudden, filling her completely. She cried out, louder than she meant, the sound bouncing off the walls as he moved, fast and rough, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her into each thrust. The desk shook, papers scattering, her moans mingling with his groans, raw and urgent, no time for finesse—just need, pure and desperate."Zane—fuck—" Her voice broke, her body tightening, pleasure spiking as he angled deeper, his fingers sliding around to circle her, pushing her to the edge. She shattered, her climax hitting hard, a scream she couldn't stifle, her nails digging into the wood as she clenched around him. He followed, a guttural roar as he thrust once, twice, then spilled into her, his grip bruising, his breath ragged against her neck.They slumped against the desk, panting, sweat-slick and wrecked, the expo's noise filtering back in—clapping, voices, oblivious to their chaos. He pulled out, turning her to face him, kissing her slow and messy, his hands still possessive on her skin."You're a menace," he muttered, smirking against her lips, smoothing her dress down, the torn panties a lost cause on the floor."You love it," she shot back, breathless, fixing his shirt as best she could, her legs shaky but her grin defiant."Damn right." He grabbed her blazer, draping it over her shoulders, his eyes glinting with promise. "Tonight, we finish this—slow."She nodded, slipping past him to the door, her body still humming, the expo waiting. They stepped out, disheveled but composed, his hand brushing hers—a quiet claim as they rejoined the crowd, the secret of their tryst burning between them.