by Lynda Aicher
He didn’t get involved. He stayed on the peripherals, out of the conflicts. And Avery was a huge conflict. His conflict.
“What’d you think?” he asked, thrusting the focus onto her. “About the scene?”
Her brows dipped. A corner of her mouth turned up. “I thought that was kind of obvious.”
His balls drew up. Fucking... He forcibly shoved back the lust that refused to be denied. He managed a weak smile, too aware of how much she’d enjoyed it—physically. “Tell me what you liked.” He kept his voice even while trying to be encouraging. He really did want to know what, exactly, had turned her on—so he could do it again.
She glanced down, but he immediately forced her chin up until she looked him in the eye. He wouldn’t let her hide. Not after she’d let herself go so beautifully.
“Did the scene make you hot?” he prompted. “Was it too tame?”
She nodded, then shook her head, eyes widening slightly. Her nostrils flared on her inhale, but she didn’t pull away. He stroked a hand up and down the small of her back in calming passes. The silky softness of her dress skimmed over her skin in a mocking reminder of what he couldn’t touch.
She swallowed, throat working hard. “It was...hotter than I’d expected. Different.” She glanced away, but that determination flashed when she brought her gaze back to him. “I liked all of it. The watching. You touching me. The sounds. The scents. Your commands. The entire experience was...” She searched him, eyes darkening again. “Amazing.”
She drew his head down, and he let her. Her lips brushed his, the tentative sweetness so her yet not. He knew better now, and that knowledge was scored into his memory. He deepened the kiss in one controlling swipe that ripped a moan from her and sent his frustration to warning levels.
He jerked back, cursing softly. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his breaths ragged once again. “We need to go,” he said, regret heavy.
“Why?” The confusion was so clear in her breathy question.
He stepped away and reached for her coat. “Because I’m going to fuck you over this table if we don’t leave.”
Her brows sprang up, mouth forming a silent O. His smile was tight as he held her coat out for her to slip into.
She slid her arms into the sleeves before she turned her head back to glance at him over her shoulder. “You could.” Her gaze slid to the table, then back to him.
The image of her splayed on the light wood, dress rumpled under her arms, everything bared to him, almost did him in. Her musky scent still lingered on his fingers, and he caught a hit of it with his deep inhalation. Fuck, how he wanted to taste every damn inch of her.
He dropped his hands from her shoulders, grabbed her purse from the table. “The scene is over, Avery.” He turned in the doorway and waited for her, hand extended. “It’s time to go.”
Her jaw dropped before she snapped her mouth shut. Her eyes narrowed, chin rising. He tensed, but she stayed silent as she swept by him. Her strides were brisk, spine straight through her march from the building.
The cooler night air was a welcome refresher when they stepped outside. Avery didn’t pause in her hurry to escape him. Not until they reached his car. She spun around so quickly he almost ran her down. He froze, prepared anew for her attack.
“I don’t understand,” she bit out. Anger radiated from her. No. That was hurt camouflaged by anger. She shook her head, arms crossed. “How can you just cut it off like that?” She sliced a hand through the air.
He almost winced at the unintentional implication. The shadows softened her features despite the hardness that’d slammed over them. She was wild again. The fire that’d blazed so clearly in the boardroom reappeared to call him on his dickish behavior.
His smile grew in small increments. He raised his hand slowly, giving her plenty of time to duck away. She remained still as he brushed her bangs away from her eyes. “There are rules,” he explained. So many rules, both defined by others and himself. “The Boardroom works because they’re followed. Our arrangement was limited to there.” A flash of hurt blazed in her eyes before she smothered it. Her lips compressed, her nod one short bob. “This isn’t more.” The reminder was for her, or so he told himself. “I loved every second of what we did,” he added to reassure her.
Her frown deepened, doubt clear. She didn’t believe him.
He grabbed her hand and pressed her palm to his erection. A gasp accompanied her frown, but he held her hand there when she tried to jerk it back. His frustration buzzed too close to anger with no clear definition of what or who he was mad at.
“This is what you do to me.” He forced her palm down the length of his boner before he let it go. Her hand lingered for a moment, one breath too long, before she pulled it back. “Don’t doubt my intentions nor my words.” He stepped around her to open the car door, his temper plucking at his control. It happened so rarely, he wasn’t prepared for it now.
And that irritated him even more.
They rode back to her place in silence, the night passing on a glare of headlights that eventually shifted to streetlights. She remained tense beside him, but he resisted the urge to reach out to her.
He pulled into the small driveway beside her building, stopping once he cleared the street. He shifted into Park, flicked the headlights off, then turned to her. She stared straight ahead, hands clasped in her lap. She didn’t move to get out, so he waited. He could give her that much.
“Can we do it again?” she asked, her voice so soft he almost missed it.
Shock nailed him. His hand tightened on the steering wheel. His pulse kicked up. His mind screamed, “fuck yes.”
“You’d like to?” he asked instead, voice purposefully level.
Her eyes closed. The faint glow from the street and over the building doorway provided enough light to catch her hesitation before he heard a soft “yes.”
Indecision warred. The battle of desire and logic wrestled for victory. “This isn’t a relationship,” he clarified. Again.
She whipped her head around, her glare cutting through him. “Trust me. I get that.”
He raised a brow, a deliberate action to hide his own cutting retort. Damn, he almost wanted to fight with her. He loved the fire when she let it show as much as the quiet restraint. There was so much more to her to discover...
“And you still want to do another scene?” he asked. She nodded and he clarified, “With me?” Another nod, this one very careful and slow. The darkness hid so much of her expression, but he felt the challenge, caught the same defiance she’d shown him the first time she’d asked for this.
He shifted his leg to give his overactive dick more space as he hardened again. That body part was on board with doing everything with her. But he’d never allowed that head to do his thinking for him. Not even when he’d been a horny teenager. He savored the feeling, though. That building want and smoldering desire that curled in his gut and eased through his system.
“Would you like something different next time?” His voice had dropped, bringing the intimacy with it. The small space seemed to shrink, the tension circling them.
She sucked in a breath, eyes closing for a moment. Her hands were fisted on her lap, but they slowly relaxed as she lifted her eyelids. “I don’t know what else there is,” she finally admitted. “I have to trust you on that.”
Power surged through his chest and spread downward to mix with the desire he was finding hard to control. She’d given her trust to him completely tonight, and he treasured the gift for how special it was. He let the corner of his mouth curl up. “So you’ll trust me past tonight?”
Her shrug was small. “You haven’t lost it, yet.”
The ending implied that he would at some point. Would he? Maybe—if he forgot his rules. “Next Saturday?” he asked. He should say no. He should but couldn’t.
She looked away, brows dipping. �
��Yes. That should work.”
A week. He had an entire week to wait before he could touch her again, make her come and fall apart in his arms. Could he handle that? Control himself? “I’ll make the arrangements.” His tone was brisk and he kicked himself when she flinched. Damn it. He didn’t want to hurt her.
He cupped her jaw and turned her head toward him. Again, she didn’t resist, and he was so tempted to follow her upstairs and show her everything he thought of doing to—with—her.
“You’re beautiful, Avery.” In so many ways. “But we work together. This can’t get awkward.”
Her sigh was low but heavy. “I know. It won’t.”
Could he trust her on that? He had to, unless he was willing to walk away.
He gave in and pressed a kiss to her lips. He lingered there, her lips soft on his, want crashing against reality to ignite his frustration once again. It churned in his gut and beat at his mind. He was playing with fire, and a part of him hoped to get burned.
“I’ll pick you up at nine on Saturday,” he said when he eased back, his thumb making one last swipe over her cheek before he lowered his hand.
Her “okay” was soft, a resignation to it. His eyes narrowed, but she shoved the door open and was out of the car before he could stop her.
He was out his side and around the front of the car in the next moment. “Hey,” he said when he reached her side, a hand going to her back. “I can walk you to the door.”
“And I can walk there by myself,” she shot back. “I’ve done it plenty of times before.”
He grinned. “I’m sure you have.” He stayed at her side until they reached the building entrance. “But my mother would kick my ass if I didn’t ensure that my date was safely home.”
She turned to him, brow raised. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”
She had him. His smile grew, spreading within him to set off another round of warning bells. “Touché.”
Her lips pursed, a bemused gleam shining as she shook her head. “Goodnight, Carson.” The formality felt false yet somehow appropriate. “I had an interesting evening.” She stuck out her hand. “I look forward to our next one.”
Damn. She’s... He couldn’t finish that thought, not if he wanted to walk away. He gave a low laugh, accepting her offered handshake. His voice was formal like hers when he responded. “Goodnight, Avery.” He brought her hand to his lips to kiss the back of her fingers. “Until next time.”
Her shoulders shook, but her laugh was silent. He let her fingers slip free of his grip and stood back while she typed a code into the access box by the door. The latches clicked, and she swung the door open. She gave him one last smile over her shoulder before ducking into the building.
The night was suddenly loud when the door clicked shut. A car passed on the road, a cable car bell clanged in the distance. He jerked around and strode to his car.
He’d give Avery every sexual experience she desired. Hell, he longed to open her boundaries and see her embrace every aspect of her sexuality. But that was all he could have.
All he should have.
All he would have—if he stuck to his rules.
Chapter Ten
Avery walked into the meeting behind Gregory and took a seat along the back wall with the other assistants. The quarterly meeting of the West Coast managing directors was usually a long and tedious event for those stuck taking notes. She never looked forward to them, and this one even less so.
She glanced down the boardroom table, a smile breaking free. There was no way she’d ever look at that object in the same way again. Her mind went to the last boardroom she’d been in, just five days ago. She scanned the men and women mingling around the room, some standing, others already seated. How many of them were a part of Carson’s secret club? Did she really want to know?
No. She shook her head. Definitely not. But would she if she kept going back?
“What?” Maurine asked.
Avery jerked her thoughts back, smile growing. “Nothing.” She shrugged when Maurine shot her a dubious look. “Just thinking about something.”
The other woman gave a low humph and turned away. Avery barely resisted the juvenile urge to stick her tongue out at her. There was no way she’d tell the snooty woman what she’d been thinking, even if it’d been PG.
Closing in on fifty and staunchly protective of both the company and the West Coast president, Maurine was the hawk who oversaw the executive assistants. Or at least she acted that way. Avery really didn’t know if that was part of Maurine’s job description, but everyone deferred to her. In many ways, she ran the office from her perch outside Trevor James’s door.
Did Maurine know about the evening activities that took place in this very room? Avery gave the woman a once-over. The black pencil skirt ended below her knees, her white blouse a simple button-down with no adornments. Her brown hair was always pulled back in a tight bun at her nape, and she wore minimal makeup—if any. With her hands folded on her lap, ankles crossed and tucked under the seat, Maurine could’ve been a poster model for the proper fifties secretary.
Nope. Maurine would most definitely not be in on the office sexcapades. Would she?
The air seemed to suck from the room when Carson strode in. He glanced around, his gaze skimming over Avery without acknowledgment. Her held breath released when he set a stack of folders before an empty chair at the table.
Instantly hot, Avery sat back and tried to calm her erratic heartbeat. This was nuts. Jean hurried in a moment later, set another folder on the ones Carson had put down, then sat in the open seat on Avery’s other side.
“Morning,” Jean said. She glanced past Avery and nodded.
“Morning,” Avery replied.
“Good morning, Jean,” Maurine said, leaning around Avery. “Did you get the technical specs printed?”
Jean’s smile faltered just a bit before she forced it wide. “Of course.”
“Good.”
Maurine turned back to the front of the room, and Jean made a very non-motherly face at the back of Maurine’s head.
Avery muffled a laugh, grinning. Jean shot her a wink before opening her laptop. The meeting was starting, and they had jobs to do.
Her gaze landed on Carson as he took his seat. His brows were drawn slightly together, his smile pleasant if not warm. His business front wasn’t that different from what she’d experienced, yet she’d seen the cracks in his cool shell.
And she wanted to see beneath them.
There was more there. She’d felt it when he’d kissed her so gently. He could be a complete dick, but then, who couldn’t? The hard part was finding a man who didn’t feel threatened when he exposed his cracks.
She smiled at that and opened her own laptop. She could be just as professional as him. They’d had...not intercourse but sex. And they were going to again—hopefully. Her stomach flipped as her pussy clenched. Maybe intercourse?
She snuck another look at Carson. His focus was on Trevor, who stood at the head of the table, his authoritative presence ruling the room. Carson exuded a different power than Trevor. A quieter one that appealed to Avery more.
Did Trevor know about the sexcapades? Her eyes narrowed, speculation running in tangents from how could he not to what if he did. Would Trevor know about her then? No! God, that would be too embarrassing. Her cheeks grew hot just thinking of it.
She wasn’t that woman, the one she’d been in the other boardroom. Not normally. She was willing—no, she wanted to be that woman again. But she definitely wasn’t ready for anyone to know about it.
Maurine jabbed her elbow into Avery’s side. Avery whipped her head around, glare in place. Maurine scowled, eyes motioning to Avery’s computer. Avery glanced down, another wave of heat rushing up her neck. She’d not taken a single note. In fact, she had no clue what Trevor had said.
She ref
ocused on the meeting and schooled herself to avoid looking at Carson. Fortunately—at least for today—the quarterly reports were a big topic that held her focus as they picked apart the data.
The meeting broke before lunch, and Avery hurried from the room as soon as it wrapped. She was at her desk, computer plugged back in when she took a moment to check her phone. There was one missed text—from Carson. Are your rules the same?
Her grin formed instantly. She sat back and opened the texting app, anticipation and worry rushing in. She snuck a glance down the hallway, like she was hiding something. She was but wasn’t. Gregory didn’t care if she checked her phone.
She contemplated Carson’s question. Were her rules the same? Would she want him to fuck her in the room, in front of others? Her stomach did another flip thinking about it. Yes and no. It would depend, really. She didn’t want to be laid out as the main show like the other woman had been. But in the corner, as the sideshow, maybe?
If he kept it respectful. And she couldn’t explain what that meant. She just didn’t want to feel cheap when it was over.
She’d experienced that a few times in college. The private acts had always been consensual, but the guy’s actions during and afterward had left her chilled with a sense of being used.
Are yours? she typed back. He’d never clarified anything beyond their interaction being strictly limited to the scene. “This is not a relationship.” She snorted, remembering his words. He’d assumed, of course, that she’d wanted one.
It irked her that he’d been right.
But this was good. Better actually.
She was an independent, modern woman. And commitment-free sex was completely acceptable.
She jumped when her phone vibrated. A secret smirk snuck out. Mine stand.
She bit her lip, the detachment offered through texting emboldening her. Do you ever physically participate?
You know I do.
Well he had, technically. She clarified. As the main show?
No.
