by KB Winters
“No,” I snarled. “I’ll be at the office tomorrow, but I’m not going anywhere with you right now.” I stepped off the curb before the perfect part between Grant’s lips could convince me to do anything stupid.
Chapter Two — Grant
“Mr. Christiansen, Ms. Sinclair is here to see you,” Cara announced.
The words sent my heart rate up and as soon as Megan walked through the door, all the blood rushing through my veins headed below my belt. She looked different than I’d ever seen her before, her long, black hair was blown out pin straight, in a sleek, shiny mass that hung over her shoulders and down her back. Her usual makeup had been switched out for a pared back look and showed more of her aquamarine colored eyes that were filled with fire as she stalked across the room. Her maroon lipstick had been replaced with a deep, blood red that made it impossible not to stare at her lips as she launched into her tirade once Cara clicked the door closed behind her.
“I’m here for the next two weeks, that’s it. Once my internship is over, you’re going to call the school and give them a glowing recommendation that will leave no doubts that I’ve completed my program. After that, you and I will be done and over with. There will be no reason for me to see you, or you to see me. You will not track me down at school or whatever job I get after graduation. Got it?”
Fuck. My cock was rock hard by the time her speech was over, and I’d never wanted to fuck a woman so hard in my entire life.
When I finally tore my eyes off of her red pout, I let them trail up and down her body, from the hip hugging black skirt, up to the skintight colored top she’d paired it with. It was very revealing, and as she leaned over my desk, I could easily see the scalloped edge of her black lace bra. My mind automatically filled in the missing details, her full, perfect breasts and tiny, pert, pink nipples coming to my memory in vivid detail. The feel, look, taste…
“Grant? Are you even listening to me?” Megan asked, her voice was sharp and snapped me to attention.
“Megan, sit down.” I waved a casual hand at the chair across my massive oak desktop. I tucked all traces of desire in the back of my mind, keeping my voice cool and steady.
“I’ll stand, thanks.”
I ignored the surge of frustration at her obstinate attitude. If given the chance, I’d bend her over the desk and spank her ass until she promised to be good. I reveled at the thought of her leaned over my desk, her wrists bound, and her skirt hiked up around her hips, baring her beautiful curved ass to me, waiting for me to deliver each slap. The idea of leaving red imprints of my fingers, marking her, riled something deep and dark inside me.
I shook off the mental image. “I’m glad you’re here. We have a lot of work to do.”
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips at me. “Were you even listening to the other part?”
“I was listening.”
“And?” Her voice was tinged with frustration and I noted her fingernails pressing into the skin on her forearms as she hugged them tight to her chest.
“What do you want me to say, Megan? That I’ll leave you alone?”
She sighed. “That would be a start.”
I paused, considering her again. “Tell you what—if that’s what I think you really want, then yes. I will leave you alone.”
“Oh my God!” She threw her hands in the air. “You’re impossible! Grant, why are you being so difficult?”
I supposed it was a fair question. In fact, it was very close to a question I’d been mulling over for a few days. Or maybe since the day I met her. What was the spell she had over me? Why couldn’t I agree and leave her alone? I’d yet to come up with an answer, but I wasn’t going to let her know it. Her eyes were blazing, sparking with passion. I both loved—and hated—her like this. It was a powerful turn on, the obvious downside being that she was only that way when she was furious with me.
I held up my hands surrendering—for the time—to her demands. “All right, let’s get through the next two weeks. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.”
She glared at me, but after a tense moment, gave me a sharp nod. “See that you do.”
With that, she spun on her heel and marched out of my office.
* * * *
Fortunately, I wasn’t left with much time to pine for her as the rest of the day was spent getting the new marketing team situated. I’d hired six of the students who’d come in for the open interview process, and thanks to a headhunter, I’d also added three more seasoned team members as well. It was the first time I had them all in one room, and as I glanced from one face to the next, I affirmed my reasoning behind each hire. They were all hungry and anxious to prove themselves and I could also feel a slight hierarchy establishing as the veterans and newbies squared off. The electric energy fed me and made me more eager about upcoming projects, knowing I had a team I could finally rely on.
The only thing missing was Megan…she’d said she’d complete her internship, and then—she would vanish. I knew it would take quick work to cycle through and find a reason for her to stay.
Everyone was gathered in the marketing department conference room, and the air was humming with the vibrancy of each team member and the batch of ideas they brought to the table. I oversaw the brainstorm session, interjecting as minimally as possible, to get a sense of the raw talent each new team member possessed.
At the conclusion of the meeting, I knew I was walking out with more actionable ideas than I’d squeezed from the prior department members over the past six months. My mind reeled with possibilities and it was all I could do to not call Megan up to my office to sketch out some new designs to accompany the new flood of ideas. My mind flashed to the tight black skirt she’d been wearing and from there—my mind rapidly got off track.
Before I even realized what I was doing, I found myself at Cara’s desk asking her to call Megan into my office for a meeting.
“She left a little while ago,” Cara answered, glossing over any suspicion over what the so called meeting would be about. Cara was nothing if not discreet. It was part of the reason she was sitting at the desk outside my office.
“What?” I snapped.
Cara flinched and I realized how sharp my tone had been. “Sorry,” I added quickly. “Did she mention where she was going? It’s the middle of her shift?”
Had she really left again? I knew I wouldn’t really call the school and rat her out. As much as I wanted her, I wasn’t going to punish her if she didn’t feel the same way. I wasn’t really sure what I would do, but I knew myself well enough to know that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her education or future over my personal feelings.
But she didn’t know that. Right? Wasn’t that the entire reason she’d agreed to come back? Because of the internship and school?
I was beginning to feel like I didn’t know anything about her.
“She had a visitor,” Cara clarified.
I whirled around to face the wall, desperate to mask the sour feeling that hit my stomach and twisted my features.
“Mr. Christiansen? Are you all right?”
I nodded, clenching and unclenching my jaw as I took deep breaths. “Did you happen to catch the name? Of the visitor?”
“Um, Logan…Logan Hamil. He said he was her boyfriend,” Cara’s tone was cautious, as if she could sense my simmering rage. “Would you like me to call her? I have her cell phone in the directory.”
I shook my head. “No. That won’t be necessary. When she returns, have her come to my office.”
Cara nodded and opened her mouth to affirm my request, but I’d already stalked into my office and slammed the door behind me before she’d gotten the chance.
Nearly an hour crawled by before there was a soft knock on the door.
“Come in,” I called out, closing the spreadsheet application I’d been staring at for the past hour. If I’d been forced to recite the contents, I would’ve failed miserably. All the figures rolled together into a blur as I gave a half-hearted attempt t
o process the information.
Megan stepped into my office, taking small, calculated steps towards my desk. Her face was unreadable, but her tone was clearly sarcastic, “You summoned me.”
My fists clenched at her dry, disdainful expression. “Were you really out with Logan?”
She immediately turned and placed her hand on the doorknob.
“Megan,” I growled, my tone daring her to turn the handle.
She whipped back to face me so quickly her body was a blur. “That is none of your business, Grant.” She had her jaw set and each word was practically spit between tightly clenched teeth.
I wanted to argue. Every fiber and speck of brain matter wanted to rail that she was my business, everything she did and said was my business…but I knew that would only backfire. I didn’t need her testing me—or calling my bluff to see if I would rat her out to the school board if she vanished from the internship. So, I tamped it down and rearranged my expression. “We have work to do. Sit down.”
She glared at me as she came back to my desk and threw herself into one of the opposite chairs. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes and body language were telling me everything I needed to know.
She hated me.
I swallowed the realization and set about normalizing things. It was my only shot at repairing what had been broken. I set aside the questions about Logan and what she’d said about Fuego and turned my attention to the work in front of us as I rehashed what the meeting had been about that morning. She listened with half-hearted interest, but at some point in the conversation, something sparked behind her jeweled eyes and she sprung to life, pen and paper in hand to scratch out a new idea that had formed in her mind at my words.
It took a while, but we were almost at the end of her shift and things finally seemed at peace between us as we worked together, side by side at the large conference table that sat in the middle of my expansive office. As she was sketching and drawing, I studied her out of the corner of my eye and wondered why it was that we could only ever truly connect over design. When we were working through a new design or idea, it was like the magnetic feeling between us could take over and form a creative synergy. The feeling exhilarated me and charged my professional side, but it also bonded me to Megan and left me hungry for her physically. It was no coincidence that the two times I’d had her, had occurred immediately after a brainstorming design session. The whole process was intoxicating.
She was intoxicating.
She’d pulled her hair back into a low ponytail that went even farther down her back than normal since she was wearing her hair straight, and with it sleeked back away from her face, her delicate cheekbones and perfect mouth were highlighted even more than usual. Her eyes were alive and dancing—for the first time since our argument, they were on fire with something other than hatred for me.
My eyes slid down her long, slender arm and came to rest on her skilled fingers as they gently gripped the pencil in her hand as she added shading to the edges of the final sketch. After a beat, she flicked her eyes to mine, and I wondered if she’d sensed me studying her. It was hard not to. “What do you think?” She asked, dropping her gaze back to the drawing.
“You’re incredible.”
“Grant,” she breathed, her voice soft, making my name sound like a prayer. She pressed her eyes closed.
“Megan, just tell me what’s going on,” I replied, keeping my own voice gentle. I didn’t think I could handle it if she were to run out on me again.
She opened her eyes and when she looked back at me, the color had deepened, they were shadowed with pain. My heart twisted and clenched in my chest. “Megan, please.” My hands were itching for her, yearning to touch her silky skin, to hold her close and take away whatever sadness was clouding her beautiful crystal eyes.
“I’m fine. Really, Grant. Don’t worry about me.”
I wanted to argue, to push, to do whatever it would take to break down the thick wall she’d put up between us. When had that even happened?
“Listen,” she continued on, her voice stronger. “While I don’t appreciate your methods—whatever they were—I do appreciate that you told me the truth about Logan.”
I sat a little straighter in my chair, surprised by her confession.
“I broke up with him, and I’ll just have to be more careful going forward.” She kneaded her hands together, pressing her thumb into her palm and working it out and down the length of each finger in turn, and I wondered if it was to release tension from the hours spent drawing, or if it was more of a nervous gesture.
I captured the right hand before she started working it, and copied her motions to massage it. She twitched as I began, and for a moment I expected her to pull away, but then something shifted in the air and she relaxed into my touch. The room faded and all I could see was Megan and her bewitching eyes as she watched me caress and massage her hands. When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were wide, filled with questions. “Grant, what is it that you want? With me?”
I nearly chuckled at the question. There were far too many answers. Somehow, in the short space of time that we’d known each other, Megan had managed to work her way into my every dream and fantasy. At the beginning, I’d considered it more of a physical thing, that she was simply another pretty face that I wanted to claim for the night, but somewhere on my path to conquest, things had changed and then, once I’d had her…it was like stepping through a door—one that I couldn’t go back through again. Everything had changed in just a few minutes, tilting my world view more than a few degrees in a new direction. Of course, I wanted her body—I wanted her in my bed, every night if possible. But I’d come to terms with the fact that there was something else I wanted as well. And that was the part I didn’t yet know how to verbalize.
“I want you to be taken care of,” I answered. In reality, it was only a small segment—a fragment—of what I wanted, but I figured it was a good place to start.
She arched a brow at me. “Taken care of?”
Something about the way she said it, like it was a completely foreign concept, was both humorless and heartbreaking. I smiled at her. “Not like little orphan Annie or something,” I joked.
“Then what?” She said, confusion still evident in her delicate features.
My hands stilled, holding hers in mine. “I want you to be safe. To not want for anything. To have all the opportunities you could ever dream of. You’re extraordinary, Megan. And I’m not saying that to feed you some unique snowflake bullshit line they tell all the kids in the first grade. I mean it. I’ve never met anyone like you. You deserve the best of everything, and I want to be the one to give that to you.”
She nodded slowly, processing the statement as she stared down at our hands. Heat radiated from her fingers, up through mine, flooding my body with an overwhelming mix of desire, want, need, impatience, frustration, and somewhere mixed in between all that—a seed of doubt.
I’d grown up very rich. I’d never wanted anything before. Anything I could dream up, I either already had, or was just a phone call away. Even with relationships, I’d always been able to get any woman I wanted—usually with minimal effort—and no matter how deep or shallow it was, I’d always set the tone, the terms, the rules. Until Megan came along, I’d never really cared much for anything beyond a casual fling. Megan was the first woman I was truly afraid of losing.
Or, maybe it was that I was afraid of never really having her.
“Grant, let me ask you a question,” she said, still staring at our hands.
“Ask away.”
“Have you ever done this before?” As soon as the question was hanging in the air between us, she looked up and locked her eyes with mine and something about the simple contact, made everything inside me cinch tight.
“This?”
“A real relationship, I mean.”
“Oh. Right.” My mind filled with a long stream of faces, bodies, a hot crush of women that I’d had. Most of which, I didn’t know an
ything past their first name…sometimes not even that much. “Honestly? No. In high school I played a lot of sports and sure, there were girls, but I was too busy having fun with my friends. College was kind of the same thing. I went into college, knowing that those four years would be my last tastes of freedom. I was always going to be the one to take over Timeless Timepieces from my father, and all my life, I knew that as soon as school ended, work began. I grew up wealthy, but my father instilled a work ethic in me. I never had to work as long as I was in school, but once that was over, it would be a hundred miles an hour as I learned the ropes so one day, Dad could retire and leave the business to me. So, college was chasing a lot of tail, partying, probably too hard, in hindsight, and blowing off steam, living it up. I never made space for anything meaningful.”
I was hit with a hot flush of anxiety at the vulnerable answer, but I kept my eyes locked with Megan’s. I didn’t think she would judge me. Hell, the answer was probably exactly what she’d expected. We’d never really talked like that before, but she was an intuitive person and I had no doubt that she’d already come to her own conclusions on my past, and was asking more for confirmation.
“What about you?” I asked. I had my own guesses on her, but she somehow always managed to surprise me.
Megan gave a quirked smile and a shrug. “Not really. Nothing that lasted longer than a few months anyways.”
I tried to ignore the rush of relief that replaced the anxiety. I couldn’t say why it mattered, but for whatever reason, I liked that she was in a similar position, entering unchartered waters. “So, Logan was…?” I left the question open ended, preferring her to fill in the blanks. I couldn’t risk offending her again, not when it finally felt like I was drawing her back in.
She flicked her eyes to the wall behind me, studying it for a moment, and I could practically see the gears of her mind working through her answer. The silence of the moment was deafening and I was beginning to wonder if she was about to tell me to go to hell, when she finally returned her gaze to me and answered, “We only ever went on one date. I met him the day of my showing at the gallery. Well, you know…”
