I walk over to the other side of his office, and I know his eyes are on me, I can almost feel his stare burning into me, but I keep my head up and my shoulders back, I stay professional.
Raising myself up on tiptoes I reach up and slide the first book back into its allotted space, and then I reach up a little further to put the second one back, and that’s when I feel his hand rest gently against my hip, and that shiver shoots through me again. I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me.
“Here. Let me do that.”
He takes the book from me and his fingers brush mine again, his other hand still there on my hip.
“Those books really needed to be put back right now, huh?”
He drops his hand and I turn around to face him. And he just shrugs, and throws me another of those irritatingly sexy smirks. “No. Not really. I just wanted to look at the view.”
I smile slowly, and he grins, but I’m not sure we should be playing this game quite so publicly. These offices, they aren’t exactly private, and I’ve only been here a week. It’s too risky. But maybe he gets off on playing close to the edge.
“I could count that as sexual harassment.”
“You could try.”
I walk away, back over to his desk, and I pick up the files I’d almost forgotten to collect when I’d first come in. And I feel him, behind me, not touching but close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck. And then he reaches past me, his arm gently nudging my hip as he picks up the envelope I’d brought in for him.
“But your heart wouldn’t really be in it, would it?” He leans in a little closer, and I feel his thigh brush against mine and I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself from gasping out loud. “This is what we do, Ms. Burrows. Remember? This is how we work.”
He slowly pulls away and walks back behind his desk. The bastard’s found the touch paper and now I need him to light it. The ache between my legs is virtually impossible to ignore, but I’m going to have to try, and he knows what he’s done. He also knows he can’t do anything about it right now, and I hate him for that.
“Do you need me for anything else?” I ask, clutching the files to my chest, because I know my nipples are hard. He made them that way, he started this.
He looks up at me, and he smirks again, and I hope he has a hard-on that prevents him from standing up for the next half an hour, but that look right there on his arrogant face, that tells me he can control this shit. I’m going to have to learn how to do that.
“I’ll let you know.”
I walk around behind his desk, and I lean in to him with the pretence of pointing something out to him on his laptop. “You’re such a dick sometimes, do you know that?”
He reaches out and subtly cups my ass, giving it a light squeeze. “But I won’t hear you complaining when this dick is inside you, later. Will I?”
I stand up and move back around the front of his desk. And I just throw him a smile over my shoulder as I head back to my cubicle.
“You’re looking pleased with yourself,” Jess says as she passes by my desk. “Your mood a good one today, then?”
“It’s getting better.”
She stops and comes over. “Any particular reason why?”
I glance over toward Mike’s office. From where I sit I can just see inside, I can see his desk, and he’s sitting behind it, his head down, his fingers wound into his hair, so he’s working hard. “No. Not really.”
She follows my gaze. “Everything okay there?”
“As okay as it can be, under the circumstances.”
“You talked to him yet?”
“I saw him last night, for a handful of minutes. Evan wanted me to collect some files from his office, and Mike was still here, so… I don’t know, Jess. It’s complicated, but at the same time, him turning up like this, it’s forcing me to finally face up to it all.”
“That can’t be easy, though.”
I glance quickly behind me, because I know Evan can see every move I make from his desk, and now I know how well he can read people I have to be on my guard with the kind of conversations I have out here.
“It isn’t, but…” I shrug. “He panicked, Jess. That’s what he told me. He panicked. I mean, he said there was more to it than that, but I don’t think I want to know any more. Because I don’t know whether he’s telling me that because he thinks it’s what I want to hear, or because it’s the truth. And I don’t know which one is the worst option.”
She looks over my shoulder, into Evan’s office. “He know anything yet?”
I shake my head. “I should probably tell him, before he hears it on the gossip grapevine because that’s going to happen, at some point. Someone’ll find out about me and Mike and if Evan hears that second, or even third hand… I want him to trust me, Jess. I need Evan to trust me, or I have nothing here.”
“Tell him next week. Take the weekend to get it all straight in your head. And him,” She jerks her head in the direction of Evan, “ he’ll understand. He loves complications, he thrives on them.”
She throws me a smile and heads off down the corridor. I sit back in my seat and close my eyes for a couple of beats, and the second I do that I feel that shiver course through me again, the feel of his hands on me still there, still present, like he’s left a permanent mark, tattooed his touch onto my skin.
“I need a word with Evan. Is he busy?”
My eyes spring open, and he’s standing there, his shirtsleeves rolled up just how he likes to wear them, his face serious. “Go on in.”
“Thanks.” He takes a couple of steps toward the door and then he stops, and he turns back around to face me. “Lola…”
I notice Evan’s eyes narrow as he watches our exchange from behind his desk and that in itself causes my heart to beat that little bit heavier. He’s reading us. He’s piecing shit together and I don’t want him to come up with anything before I tell him who Mike is to me. Who I am to him. “Just go in, Mike.”
He gets the message and goes inside, closing the door behind him. And I drop my head in my hands for the briefest of seconds, dragging them back through my hair and then I instantly regret that action.
Mike Carrington used to be my life, but he can’t be that anymore. That’s what my head’s telling me, anyway. My heart, well, that’s another matter…
Ten
Lola
I fling open the door and he’s standing there, cocky as hell, an arrogant smirk on his handsome face.
“You know where I live?”
“Of course I know where you live. It’s my job to know where you live.”
“Then you’ll know I don’t live alone.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, too, but I also know that your roommate has just left to spend the night at her boyfriend’s place on the other side of town and she won’t be back until tomorrow, so, I think we’re safe.”
I lean against the doorpost and fold my arms. “You’re verging on creepy now, you do know that, don’t you?”
“I just want to celebrate my new secretary’s first week at Cavendish King, that’s all.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s all? Really?”
He smiles, and I stand aside to let him in. Am I sorry he’s here? No. I was enjoying some time on my own, just kicking back and watching TV, but now that he’s turned up, I don’t mind. It’s all part of my job, it’s my life now. And I’m more than okay with that. And then I realize I’ve only been out of the shower five minutes; I have no make-up on, my hair’s pulled back in a messed up ponytail and I’m only wearing short denim cut-offs and an old T-shirt. And Evan King, he hasn’t seen me in anything other than expensive dresses with my hair done, my face made up and my killer heels on. He hasn’t seen me like this.
“I’d better go put some clothes on…”
He grabs my wrist as I try to make a run for the bedroom, before he can take in much more of my ‘relaxed’ look.
“No, Lola. You’re not gonna put some clothes on.”
�
�I look a mess.”
He just shakes his head and I hold his gaze, and it’s like he wants to say something else but he stops himself. And that kind of frustrates me because I think I almost got a glimpse of the real Evan King there. A man with emotion after all? Maybe I’ll never know that. Maybe he doesn’t want anyone to know that.
He lets go of my wrist, and when he looks at me that familiar shiver hits me like a real big kick to the gut. He slips off his jacket and throws it over the back of the couch, loosening his tie just a little as he moves closer to me, and it’s taken just seconds for my heart to pick up that fast, painful rhythm; for my stomach to dip and my thighs to ache for him, because we both know what’s coming.
He’s right in front of me now, his forehead touching mine as he loosens my cut-offs and nudges them gently down until they fall to the floor. And then he lifts me up, his mouth falling onto mine as he slams me back against the wall, and I cry out as a sharp jolt of pain hits my lower back, but that soon fades into oblivion because he’s pushing into me now. He’s taking his fix, he’s giving me mine, we’re helping each other in this wrong and crazy way but I crave him now. I crave this.
His fingers slide between mine up against the wall as he thrusts into me, hard and fast and I buck against him, causing him to thrust deeper, my lower back crashing into the wall with every one of those thrusts but when he comes; when I feel him touch that part of me that kicks off my own climax I forget the pain, it doesn’t exist anymore, there’s only this. Only him.
He’s done. We both are. But his fingers stay wrapped around mine and he’s still inside me, he hasn’t pulled out yet, and I wrap my legs that little bit tighter around him to keep him there. Just for a few more seconds.
He rests his forehead against mine again and closes his eyes as he tries to steady his breathing, and I let go of his hand and slide mine around the back of his neck, running my fingers through his hair at the nape, and I want to kiss him but I’m aware that right now, at this point, that could feel a little too intimate. And we haven’t strayed into that area because that involves emotion. And Evan King, he doesn’t do emotion. So I let go of him, I unwrap my legs and force him to pull out of me and I reach down to retrieve my cut-offs.
“Don’t.”
I look at him, and I frown slightly. “Don’t, what?”
“Put them on.”
I narrow my eyes, a small smile on my face. “You want to go again, already?”
He shakes his head, his fingers playing with the hem of my T-shirt. “I just want you naked. For a little while.”
“Is that an order? Because, y’know, we’re in my territory here. We’re not at the office or your apartment, this is my space.”
“It’s a request.”
He continues to pull at my T-shirt and I raise my arms and allow him to strip me. It’s kind of sexy, in that warped way I’m all too used to now. And despite me being the naked one, meaning he has the power here, I feel strangely liberated.
“You’re staying for a while, then, huh?” I ask, holding his gaze, and he smiles that smile that I know breaks the hearts of every female associate at Cavendish King, every single day. I’ve seen it happen, I’ve watched him walk through their space, watched their heads turn and their expressions change. I’ve heard them in the kitchen, heard them talk about him, fantasize about what it must be like to kiss him, fuck him, be his wife. I’ve heard their fantasies, and I live them out. If only they knew…
“I’m staying. For a while.”
I return his smile. “Then I suppose I should offer you a drink. If you’re staying.”
I walk over to the kitchen, and I know he’s watching me, this is what he wants. To watch me. Naked. And I’m fine with that, I’ll play his game, because next time, he’ll be playing mine.
I reach up into the cupboard to fetch a couple of glasses, and he’s behind me now, his hand on my hip as he reaches past me to lift the glasses from the shelf.
“Have you got some kind of fetish about watching women reach for things in places way too high for them?”
He laughs quietly, and because he’s so close to me the sound hits the back of my neck, and that shiver engulfs me again, turning it into a physical reaction that he doesn’t miss.
“You’re still wet,” he murmurs, and I gasp as he slides a hand between my legs, his palm warm and soft against me.
I push down onto him, and he rests his mouth against my shoulder, kissing it lightly as his fingers probe and prod me, invade me in the most beautiful way.
Gripping the counter tight I close my eyes and give in to him, biting down on my lip as he continues to touch me, and he isn’t even making any attempt to enter me, to go inside, he’s just stroking and pushing and I am going crazy here. I don’t even know if I want him inside me. He’s got my head in a mess, but I’m taking it, all of it, and as he finds my clit and circles it slowly; as he leaves a trail of tiny kisses along the back of my neck, his breath warming my skin, I feel myself come apart, feel my core shatter as wave after wave of intense pleasure floods me. I can’t hold back the cries, and his fingers continue to work as I come, I can’t seem to stop, every time he touches me he starts another wave and I’m crying out all over again until it finally subsides. But it takes a few seconds for my body to catch up, to slow down, to lose that last tingle.
“I think we could do with a drink now, don’t you?” he murmurs into my neck and I laugh. I’m so utterly relaxed with this man, and that somehow seems so wrong, given our professional relationship. But I like it. No ties, no commitment, just great sex. Amazing sex. Oh, God, I can’t give that up!
I nod and look down at my fingers still gripping the counter, my knuckles are almost white they’ve been holding on so tightly.
“And you can get dressed now. If you want to.”
I finally let go of the counter and turn around. But I don’t say anything. I just walk away, back into the living room and, yeah. I get dressed. He’s had his fun, played his game, I need a drink now.
While he pours the wine I visit the bathroom, quickly pee, and then check my face in the mirror. I think sex might agree with me – crazy, dirty, spontaneous sex, because my skin looks pretty much okay, without the flawless foundation and the way-too-expensive-for-my-paycheck concealer I wear for work. I look a little younger, without that mask, and I smile at my reflection. You’re in one hell of a fucking mess, Burrows, but at least you still look good.
I go back into the living room, and he’s made himself at home on my couch, he’s even taken off his tie. He’s one handsome son-of-a-bitch, and he knows it. And a part of me wishes I wasn’t so attracted to him, but I am. I haven’t met a woman who isn’t, not yet. Maybe that woman’s Dana, I don’t know. I don’t know all that much about their relationship, if I’m honest, but they must have one. They’re partners. They created Cavendish King together, so they must know each other pretty well, in some respect.
“You’re thinking.”
I snap out of my thoughts and I look at him, blinking a couple of times because I hadn’t realized I’d drifted off there. “Sorry, I… No. I’m not.”
“Sit down. Come on.”
I lower myself down next to him, turning so I face him, and I cross my legs up underneath myself.
“Are you telling me you have no place else to be on a Friday night?”
He hands me my wine, and he smiles again. “I’m where I want to be.”
“But this – what we’re doing, you’ve only known me a week. So, what would you usually be doing on a Friday night? I mean, someone like you…”
He raises an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”
“A successful, important man like Evan King – he’s got to have a string of women vying for his attention.”
“I don’t want to talk about my private life.”
“You have one, then?”
He leaves that unanswered, and I take a sip of wine, but I don’t take my eyes off him. Was there something there, some flicker, just a hint
of something that could pass for emotion when I asked him that question? I couldn’t really tell, to be honest. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man surrounded by so many barriers, and all it’s doing is making him even more fascinating to me. But I have to be careful. This relationship – this thing we have; whatever it is, it needs to be handled right.
“And what about your private life, Lola? You’re a beautiful woman, and – as you’ve frequently pointed out – it’s Friday night, so, why are you home all alone?”
“Oh, so, it’s not okay for me to ask you about your private life but it’s fine for you to ask me about mine?”
“You don’t have to answer anything. That’s entirely up to you.”
“I thought we didn’t do talking?”
“We can do whatever the hell we like, I change rules all the time.”
“And you know I’m not in a relationship right now. You wouldn’t be here if I was.”
“But you were. Not that long ago. Am I right?”
I narrow my eyes and my expression changes and I feel my stomach tighten as it pulls itself into a painful knot. “You said I didn’t have to answer anything.”
“Someone hurt you. I already knew that, I guessed that. I just didn’t know that the man who hurt you – I didn’t know he was so close. That he’s right here, that he’s back…”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
I try to get up but he puts a hand on my knee to stop me. “I read people, Lola, I told you that. And because I told you that your body language, it changes, whenever he’s around you. You probably think you’re being more guarded, that you’re doing an okay job of hiding it but you’re trying too hard.”
“Did you come here tonight with the intention of doing this? Fuck me first then tell me you’ve been digging into my past?”
“Do you still love him?”
“That’s got nothing to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me.” His hand grips my knee that little bit tighter, his eyes boring deep into mine, and I’m not comfortable with what’s happening here. “Do you still love him, Lola?”
Lawfully His (A Dirty Business Novel Book 1) Page 9
