Page 28 of Engineering a Love Story

“Is this all right?” I don’t know what he means exactly, but all of it is more than all right and I simply nod, going on my tiptoes, trying to reach more of him. As with the time before, the thrill of having Seth so close is nearly uncomfortable. I can’t catch my breath.

“I’m sorry to report that Snob Hill here closes up pretty early.” Seth’s voice is rough along my jaw.

“What does that mean?” I’m still holding his tie. “Oh. You couldn’t—”

“No, I did.” His tongue teases my ear. “I just had to hike a few extra blocks. To find the high-end prophylactics they sell in this neighborhood.” I lean against him. “You look fantastic in this dress.” Seth runs his hand along my hipbone. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you all day.”

“I never once saw you looking at me.”

“It was a herculean effort. Still, you must not have been paying attention.”

“I definitely was.”

After a few minutes, Seth asks, “As much as I love this dress, what do you think about taking it off?” I turn, allowing him to undo my zipper and trail his fingers down my lower back. When he runs his hands over my shoulders, my clothes fall away. On the bed, he removes the last bits of his suit and we stretch out together on the creamy hotel sheets.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned the hike,” Seth says. “That seems like … pressure. And there’s no pressure.” I shake my head, dismissing his concern and letting my hands travel, covering as much of him as I can. Seth is familiar, and that tiny bit of comfort makes this more thrilling. Returning to this scene I’ve pictured so often in recent weeks makes me feel like I’m having a fantasy and enacting it at the same time.

Seth’s body against mine is almost hot. The scratchiness of his stubble contrasts with the warm wetness of his tongue and lips, and I escape completely into the mindless intensity of it. When he’s inside me, he never takes his eyes from my face. Being with him seems like the most natural thing in the world, irresistible and effortless, but not at all chummy.

I don’t want it to end, but eventually we’re lying together, and I fit cleanly into the pocket of Seth’s arm. The bedside clock shows it’s nearly two.

“We can sleep if you want. I have to go soon,” I say.

Seth expresses incredulity that I’m booked to fly out again so early. “Why do you do that?”

“I hate the red-eye. And with the time change, flying home later in the day just kills the whole thing by the time I’m back at my house.”

“We didn’t really, last time.” He adjusts the blanket around us. “You live in a house? Alone?”

“Yes, I live alone.” Sometimes I still can’t believe this is true. “I have an apartment in Cambridge.” I decide not to mention that I haven’t moved into it yet. Seth doesn’t need all the gritty details. He makes an appreciative noise and his shoulder relaxes beneath me. “Booking a later flight would have only been because I hoped something like this might happen,” I add.

Seth sighs. “I thought of contacting you, when I saw you on the attendee list. I’ll admit I thought of you quite a bit since that other night. You sitting there, answering all of Manish’s questions. And then … later. But you said this doesn’t work for you.”

“Then why did you come to me? In the bar.”

I feel his shrug. “I was getting ready to leave and saw you alone. And I thought: fuck it. Plus, that old couple dancing.”

I exhale a small laugh. The hair on his chest bristles beneath my cheek and my toes play against the bones of his ankle. “Did you sneak up here?”

“Not really. There are only a few out-of-town Aurelian people staying here. I have a salesperson, Daphne from Houston, escorting a prospect. But most of us are local and there’s no need for that expense. It did feel illicit though.”

“Where will you say you were? When you don’t come home.”

“I was thinking I’d tell Manish my college roommate Raf is in town. I met up with him late night and crashed in his hotel room. Manish and Raf don’t get along, so he’ll leave it.” Seth’s fingers trace lazy circles on my bicep. “I do hate lying to Manish. I almost never do it.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Seth exhales, loosens his arm. “Manish doesn’t always properly assess boundaries, as you might have guessed. His enthusiasm gets him into scrapes sometimes, saying things he shouldn’t.”

I laugh against Seth’s chest, remembering Manish at our sushi dinner.

Seth releases another frustrated sigh. “But Aurelian is his baby. That other company he had? It was a duct-tape-and-shoestring operation. They were barely out of his roommate’s garage when Amex bought it. It was a good outcome, but Manish saw it as a failure—that he didn’t get to see how far it could go. He thinks Aurelian is his shot. From the start, Manish wanted Aurelian to be a real company, VC money, an office, a CEO with gray hair. But it’s not frothy, the way it was even six months ago.”

As summer has progressed, the number of dot-coms going bankrupt has skyrocketed. Tech pubs are riddled with stories of entrepreneurs worth millions one day and then nothing the next.

“Manish would say that this”—Seth waves a hand above us—“is too risky.”

“Do you not agree?” I angle my head to see his face.