by Elise Faber
Stormy blue eyes collided with hers. “Friends don’t kiss.” A brow lifted. “Unless Clay has something to worry about with all those girls’ nights your crew of troublemakers has been organizing over the last months.”
She smirked. “You wish.”
A shrug. “Maybe. You are all gorgeous, but that’s not my point. You’ve been through a lot and you shouldn’t rush—”
“I’m going to interrupt you and I’m kind of sorry for it,” she said.
“Only kind of?”
“Yes. Because again, it’s my life. If you don’t want me or feel pressured or uncomfortable pursuing a friendship because of Clay and Heather, I get it.” She shrugged, playing at casual but knowing that if he didn’t want to spend more time with her outside of work, it would hurt. For the second time in her life, she was truly trusting her gut.
The first had told her to leave.
This time it was telling her to leap.
His hands came up, weaving into her hair, sliding the strands of her ponytail through his fingers. “I’m not feeling pressured,” he said and tilted his hips so that his pelvis was flush against hers.
And oh, how she remembered the feel of that particular body part.
“I think that tells you just how not pressured I’m feeling at the moment,” he murmured. “But I also know you’ve been hurt and I don’t want you to jump into something that will put you at risk.”
Rachel pressed a kiss to his jaw. “And what about you? Aren’t you worried I might hurt you? That I’m just using you to rebound from my marriage?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”
Men.
She tapped his cheek. “Now repeat those words except substitute girl for boy.”
His expression went chagrined. “I see your point.”
“So, can we get back to kissing now?” She glanced down at her watch. “I have fifteen minutes before I need to go back and terrorize my intern.”
He grinned. “I like seeing you as the boss.”
She laughed. “That’s Heather, but I do my part.”
Fingers trailed down her nape, sliding around the slip under the collar of her shirt, to tease the delicate skin at the base of her throat. Bas chuckled, the warm puff of air on her jaw so close yet so far from where she wanted it.
“So, what you’re telling me is that I need to do my part?”
Her teeth found her bottom lip, and she bit down when he nibbled at her earlobe. “You’re going the wrong way,” she breathed. “I’m over here.”
“I see you,” he said and she had the feeling that, yes, he actually did see her.
Then his mouth was on hers, and she could think of nothing but the way he kissed—like a fucking god, for the record—how his tongue felt stroking against hers—hot and wet and dizzying—and how incredible it was when his body pressed tightly to hers.
It was like that night again. One touch and she lost her mind. The only thing that made it bearable in any way was the fact that Bas seemed as crazed as she was. He groaned and pulled her somehow closer, hands running down her back to cup her ass.
And fuck did that feel good.
He hitched her up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips, moaning as he pressed her back to the window.
Heaven help her if anyone looked up from the street below, but fuck could she summon enough concern to ask him to stop. Not when his cock was hard and pressed against her, rocking in a rhythm that made her see stars.
The only thing that would have made it better was for them to both be naked and Bas inside her, but since that would require more than fifteen minutes and more privacy than her office allowed, Rachel would have to settle for this.
Not that she was complaining. This was damned good.
At least until her phone rang.
Bas tore his mouth from hers.
She grabbed his face, tugged him back. “Just one more minute,” she begged.
“One minute,” he agreed and kissed her again.
Approximately zero point two seconds later his cell began buzzing. And while she didn’t mind the vibration, considering that the pocket housing it was in a very prime location, she knew their moment had ended.
Her cell cut off then immediately began ringing again. Bas’s was still buzzing.
“Honeymoon’s over,” she said.
His lips twitched as he lowered her legs to the ground. The way he held on to her for a second, ensuring that she was steady and didn’t instantly fish out his cell warmed her heart.
“Apparently,” he said, wry amusement in his tone before growing serious again. “You okay?”
His phone stopped buzzing. Then straightaway began vibrating again.
“I’m great,” she said and for once, felt like she’d actually answered that particular question honestly. She swept across her room and picked up her phone. “You ready for this?”
Bas slid his gaze down and back up and though the man didn’t touch her, Rachel would swear to God that she could actually feel that stare. Her skin heated and suddenly her mind wasn’t on her boss or the phone in her hand but back on launching herself into his arms.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled.
She released a shaky breath. “Don’t you look at me like that.”
His mouth quirked and the heat faded from his expression. “Only if I get a rain check for later.”
She slid a finger across her phone screen to accept Heather’s call.
“As if that were ever in question.”
TEN
SEBASTIAN
* * *
THE PHONE CALLS from Clay and Heather turned out to be less crisis and more work-related. Apparently, their bosses weren’t great at taking time off and those two extra days he’d managed to squeeze out of their work-slash-honeymoon trip to Berlin had gone to waste.
Well not entirely to waste, since Clay had accidentally hit the FaceTime button causing Sebastian to see—
He shuddered.
A view he definitely couldn’t unsee.
He’d quickly promised to get the ball rolling on researching a new start-up while Rachel dealt with a case of encrypted files that had somehow become corrupted.
His call hadn’t taken long and he watched Rachel unabashedly as she held her cell pinned between her ear and her shoulder all while talking a mile a minute and typing furiously on her keyboard.
She was magnificent.
Her eyes flicked up and pink colored her cheeks as her gaze quickly returned to her computer screen.
He spied a pad of Post-Its on her desk and a pen and took a moment to jot out a quick note that he propped in front of her.
Do you want me to go?
Chocolate eyes dashing up to meet his then a nod that had his gut clenching.
Damn. But he’d asked and so he obeyed. He stood, started to turn away only to halt at her hand movements.
She gestured for the pad and pen then wrote furiously when he passed them over.
I don’t want you to go. But you’re distracting, and I really want to finish this so we can meet up later.
He was distracting?
Sebastian felt his chest puff up. He’d take that, along with the whole meeting up later thing.
Another Post-It appeared in front of his face.
Only if you want to.
He grabbed another pen, snagged the paper back. He wrote:
To meet up later or go?
A smile.
Either. Both.
“Oh—” She jumped, glanced down at her desk. “Okay, Heather,” she said. “I’ll ping your inbox once IT takes a look at those files. Uh . . . yup. Bye.”
Rachel hung up and set her phone carefully beside the stack of Post-Its. “I —uh . . . I think that I just heard Clay . . . um . . .” This time her cheeks didn’t go pink so much as fire engine red.
“Were they having sex?”
She shook her head. “No. But they definitely are
going to be having it in short order.”
He snorted.
She snorted.
And then they were both laughing.
Fuck, did that feel good.
Eventually they got themselves under control, and he found himself crossing around her desk again and crouching in front of her chair.
“I’m not going to kiss you again,” he said, smiling. “Since we both know where we’ll end up.” He stroked the outside of her thighs, forcing himself to keep his hands on the outside and not in between. Fuck it. He allowed himself just one touch. And it was so worth it.
Rachel’s breath hitched, and a moan caught in her throat.
“Did Heather sound like that?”
A nod.
“Fuck. I want to put my mouth on you so bad, baby.” Then he groaned when she spread her legs just the tiniest bit wider.
Her lips parted.
“Don’t,” he said and kissed her. Just once, but enough to make it count, to hold him over until later. Only when his lungs screamed for oxygen did he pull back and cup her cheek.
She nuzzled into his palm and Sebastian’s heart softened even further. This woman. God. He just liked her so much.
“Give me your number,” he said.
Her eyes smiled. Which didn’t really make sense, but somehow they brightened and pure happiness radiated out of those chocolate depths.
She punched her number into his phone, pressed send. “There.”
He kissed her nose, because he could and because he didn’t trust himself to take her mouth again. Not when his mind was already flooded with images of him stripping off those tight little slacks, unbuttoning her blouse and undoing that tidy ponytail then bending her over her desk.
He’d drop to his knees, make love to her with his mouth until she screamed his name. Then he’d slide in deep and—
“I’ll see you later?” she asked.
Sebastian clenched his hands into fists for what felt like the umpteenth time that hour, but the action did the trick. He didn’t reach for Rachel and strip her naked.
Instead, he managed a semi-controlled sounding, “I’ll see you later” and showed his horny ass out her office door.
But he couldn’t resist sending her a new line once he’d reached his own office.
I am man, hear me cater. I can’t wait to see you later.
Her response was a pert GIF and the reason he wore a smile for the rest of the day.
ELEVEN
RACHEL
* * *
LUNCH BREAK MEANT that she called in the help of the Sextant . . . or at least the member who was the closest and knew the most about Rachel’s particularly screwed up situation.
“Darden,” Bec answered curtly.
Rachel didn’t take the greeting personally. Bec was a powerful attorney whose work ethic rivaled even Heather’s. She also didn’t take calls from, in her words, “People she gave less than two shits for.”
So if she picked up a call, and this was doubly true for an answered phone during normal work hours—which for Bec was basically six o’clock in the morning until eight at night—then it meant she’d allowed the caller entrance into her inner circle.
Jackpot.
“Molly’s? I’ll bring it to your office,” Rachel asked.
“I would adore Molly’s,” Bec said.
Molly’s was a sandwich and salad restaurant and pretty much the only place in the city that made vegetables and so-called health food palatable, at least according to her and the rest of the Sextants. Yes, vegetables were a necessary addition in a balanced diet, but they were also an evil one. The little cafe was one of Rachel’s spots, somewhere she’d stumbled upon in the early days after arriving in San Francisco.
She’d felt lost and overwhelmed and painfully anonymous. But it had also been the best feeling in the world.
Because she’d been free.
And she could order clam chowder just because she enjoyed it and not worry later about Preston detesting the fishy smell.
She could order anything.
“So when are you coming by, my little born-again virgin?”
“Forty minutes work?” Rachel asked before pausing then figured why the hell not. “Also, about that born-again virgin thing . . .”
“Holy shit,” Bec said. “You’d better make it thirty. I’ll just take that salad thing.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Which salad thing? The pear and brie or the apple and cranberry.”
“Either. Both. I don’t care,” Bec said. Rachel grinned, loving how her friend’s New England accent took over when she got excited. The words were clipped and rapid, and she sounded half Real Housewives, half New York socialite. “I need to hear more about your vagina.”
Okay, maybe more than half Real Housewives.
“It’s—” Rachel broke off. “Well, Bec, it’s pretty fucking complicated.”
“A sigh and a curse word,” Bec said and Rachel could swear she heard her friend rubbing her hands together in gleeful anticipation. “This is going to be good.”
“Probably.” Rachel pushed open the door to Molly’s.
So, she’d already banked on Bec saying yes to lunch.
The food was really that good.
“I’m hanging up now,” she said.
“Thirty minutes,” Bec replied. “And you’re going to spill all your secrets.”
“As if I could withstand the Darden Death Stare,” she joked.
“Damn right.” Bec disconnected the call, and Rachel found herself smiling as she headed up to the counter to order.
Good friends. A potential beginning of something with a new guy. Maybe friendship, maybe more—friends with benefits, boyfriend?
Who knew?
But there were possibilities and those were something Rachel had lived without for a long, long time.
She would take her chances grasping at every single one of them.
“SO, WAS HE GOOD?”
Rachel thought that her smile said it all. Especially, when Bec hooted and dropped her fork.
“Holy shit!” She clapped her hands together. “Little Sebastian really has that much going for him?”
Rachel smirked. “He’s got enough, but better yet, he knows how to use it.”
“Hot damn.” Bec picked her fork back up and shoveled a bite of salad into her mouth. “I never would have guessed. So, what’s the problem?”
Rachel thought about that for a long moment. “Nothing really.” She shrugged. “Which I guess is kind of the problem. I thought I’d freak out the first time after . . . you know . . .”
“And you didn’t?” The Darden Death Stare didn’t come out, but just having Bec’s gray eyes fixed on her made Rachel spill her guts.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t freak. I wanted more. But he’d disappeared.” She scooped up a bite of her own salad. “Later I got it. I mean, I’ve up and left things at the drop of the hat just because Heather called. But even when I hated him for leaving, I still wanted him. God. Does that even make sense?”
Bec nodded, serious for once. “Yeah. I get that feeling completely.”
Rachel froze with her fork two inches from her mouth. “Why do I feel like there’s a story there?”
A wry smile. “Because there is, but it’s not one I’m going to tell you. Or anyone, for that matter.” She waved a hand dismissively. “The only pertinent thing is that I was young and stupid and naïve.”
“Been there, got the freaking T-shirt,” Rachel muttered.
“We’re part of the same club, apparently.” Bec rolled her eyes. “But no freak out. That’s a good thing, Rach.”
She picked at her salad, searching for another crouton. “I know.”
“Then what’s the real issue bouncing around that brain of yours?”
“I just—” Rachel sighed. “Ugh. I like him, okay?”
Bec snorted. “Woman. That’s a good thing.”
“But what if—”
“Ah.” Bec nodded and pushed
away her food, fixing her eyes firmly on Rachel’s. “I get it now. You’re scared Sebastian might be more than a quick fuck.”
Rachel made a face. “He’s already more than that.”
“Well then, I think you already know how to resolve your problem.”
“I do?”
Bec grabbed her plate back. “Sure. You see where things go with Sebastian. You keep an open mind. You prepare for either alternative.”
“Either?” Rachel parroted.
“Look, Sebastian is a good guy. He doesn’t have any police reports, convictions, or lawsuits.” Bec ticked off the words on her fingers. “He’s never even gotten a speeding ticket. His brother is a retired NHL player, his sister a brilliant engineer. His parents are still married and live in a middle-class suburb.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “How do you know all that?”
Bec shrugged. “I had him checked out when I found out he was Clay’s assistant.”
Oh. Em. Gee.
Rachel bit back a giggle.
Bec had background-checked Sebastian.
That was somehow too perfect.
“What?” Bec asked, mouth full and the word sounding like “Shmut?” She chewed and swallowed before saying, “He was going to be near Heather, and no one messes with my O’Keiths.”
“I love you, Bec.”
“Damn right you do.” She paused. “So, you either accept that Sebastian will be around for a good long while or you cut him loose now.”
Rachel thought about that carefully. “I don’t think I can cut him loose.”
A flash of a smile. “Well then, I guess you had better get used to Sebastian being around then, don’t you think?”
The thought of Sebastian being around on a potentially permanent basis made Rachel’s heart feel buoyant for the first time in forever.
She grinned at Bec.
“I guess I’d better.”
