No Going Back

by Ainsley Kincade

  “You can’t drive home,” he said, “and sleeping at the office all night would be rather uncomfortable.”

  Unbuckling my seatbelt slowly, I still didn’t get out of the car. I wasn’t sure I could stand properly even if I had been eager to move. “Where are we?”

  “My apartment. I tried asking you where you lived, but you didn’t answer, so I brought you here. I have a guest bedroom you can sleep in tonight.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like this is largely my fault, so I ought to do something to fix it. Come on, you need to rest.”

  The willpower it took not to pout at being relegated to the guest room was not easy to dredge up in my current state. The more rational part of me was relieved he hadn’t been expecting something different. As much as I wanted him to tear this dress off me, I was hardly in the right frame of mind to make a decision that could potentially ruin my career. Even still, when he gestured for me to take his hand again, I reached out and took it.

  FOUR

  Anonymity

  Adrenaline pulsed through me as I guided her to standing. I had only had the one scotch, but the fresh air did a lot to clear my head and tamp down any thoughts of something happening tonight. Stumbling in her heels when she got fully to her feet widened her eyes, and I suspected she was doubting the wisdom of getting out of the car. Shit. I didn’t know whether it was me she didn’t trust, or herself. I reminded myself to focus and not screw things up any more than I already had. She moved purposefully, one foot in front of the other, but three shots of whiskey had done a number on her. She was never going to make it to the building entrance without falling.

  “Here, let me help you,” I said before sweeping her into my arms a second time.

  She gasped at the sudden weightlessness. Her free hand reached out for something to steady her, and found only the open collar of my dress shirt. Her panicked movement was too aggressive, and I sucked in a sharp breath when her fingernail grazed my skin. Red welled in a line across my collarbone, a similar shade to what was spreading through her body. Desire tightened my grip on her, strangely turned on by her marking me in that way, even unintentional as it was.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said breathlessly, seeming to hope I wouldn’t get upset, and definitely feeling horrible about gouging me.

  “It’s fine,” I said in a strained voice. “Just a little scratch.” My gaze dropped to hers, a smile teasing at the corners of my mouth as I looked at her. “I won’t drop you, though. You should never worry about that.”

  As hazy as her thoughts likely were in that moment, she didn’t quite seem to understand the words. It was as if she couldn’t imagine any other possible reason I’d need to carry her in the future. I saw the thought form in her head without her having to voice it. Oh God, I hope he doesn’t think I do this all the time! I chuckled at the idea of her getting wasted on a regular basis. The way the whiskey hit her made it pretty clear she didn’t.

  “I should have asked you if you needed something to eat along with your drink,” I said as I walked toward the building. “I didn’t consider how facing down Brandon would have made it difficult to eat much. I apologize for that.”

  “It’s not your…fault,” she said as she rubbed her face against my chest and sighed.

  “It is my fault, but I’ll try to make it right, okay?”

  Her head bobbed, her fingers brushing back and forth across the exposed skin of my chest. My arms tightened around her body. “Mmm…okay. If you promise…”

  “If I promise what?”

  She sighed, her hot breath sending a shiver down my spine when it hit my bare skin and the scratch she’d given me. I pulled her in closer, barely resisting the urge to lean down and kiss her. She responded by dragging her fingers to the neckline of her dress and tugging at it. I wasn’t sure if it was too constricting, or if she felt too warm, or what. I didn’t care when her pulling exposed more of the supple flesh of her breasts. Fuck. I felt myself begin to harden and hoped there wouldn’t be anyone in the lobby.

  “What did you want me to promise?” I asked, very much needing a distraction.

  Shifting her body in my arms a moment later when I reached the building door, I froze when my awkward movement bobbed her head forward and her lips fell against my uninjured collarbone. Hot, heavy breaths pulsed against my skin. I was absolutely mesmerized by the feel and unable to move or think as I stood there with one hand on the door.

  “Mmm,” she murmured softly. The tip of her wet tongue slid out from between her lips, wetting them before they closed and pressed to my skin.

  Groaning, I yanked the door open and hurried to the elevator to press the call button. The lobby was empty, amazingly absent of anyone who might see my erection straining against my pants front. I stared at the lit button for what felt like a lifetime. Reagan kissed my collarbone again and nearly undid me right there.

  A soft ping announced the arrival of the elevator and I slid into the box as soon as the doors where wide enough to allow it, pressing the button to close the doors before someone could appear and want to join us. I sank against the wall when we were finally alone and tried to focus on anything but Reagan’s mouth on my skin.

  She was killing me. Pure torture, and she had no idea. I wanted to carry her to my room, my bed, and tear the green dress from her body. The hint of her ample breasts pulsing above the deep neckline were agonizing to see. Carrying her as I was, the skirt of the dress had been pushed up her thighs. The soft, creamy skin of her legs curving over firm muscles ate at me. I wanted to devour her, fuck her as she called out my name. The way she was nuzzling against me said she wouldn’t say no, but I knew I couldn’t touch her tonight.

  Finally, the elevator arrived at my floor and I moved quickly to get to the refuge of my apartment. Once inside, I locked the door behind me and went straight for the guest room. I had to get her away from me before I did something incredibly stupid. She whimpered when I set her down and I had to take in a deep, steadying breath as my cock pulsed with need.

  Shaking away such thoughts, I removed each of her shoes and started to walk away. Reagan’s hand reached out blindly, brushing against my thigh, one fingertip lightly grazing my length. I jumped in response, stifling any sort of vocalized reaction as her lips parted.

  “You didn’t promise yet,” she said, her eyes closed, but a frown forming on her pouty lips.

  “Promise what?” I begged. I needed to leave the room, as fast as possible. Reagan was a siren, every breath and sound calling me to recklessness.

  Her eyes fluttered. “I can’t go to work in this dress. Everyone will think…” Her brow creased. “…think I slept with Brandon.” She frowned. “No, with…you?”

  “Brandon’s gay,” I reassured her, “and I’ll have Ben get you something else to wear, so don’t worry.”

  “You promise?” she asked.

  “Promise.”

  One side of her mouth tilted up and smiled. God, she’s beautiful. Her hand fell and she forgot I was in the room with her after that. Relieved and supremely disappointed, I reminded myself not to be an asshole and left the room. Exhausted, my brain was telling me to go to bed. Other parts of my body were begging for release. I didn’t even need porn to make that happen. Thinking about Reagan in my apartment, so close, and wearing that dress…it was more than enough to bring me to my breaking point. Add in the memory of Charis flirting with Reagan all night, and I half expected to come like I was fourteen again and in the throes of a wet dream.

  Shutting and locking my bedroom door, I dropped onto my bed and hurriedly unbuckled my belt. I groaned in relief as I freed my cock from the slacks and finally felt as though I could take a deep breath. Marie was right. I had to do something about my obsession with Reagan, but how could I after what she’d told me? I didn’t want anyone to think us getting involved was some twisted move on her part to get a promotion or special treatment. She deserved all the praise I gave her and I hated the thought of anyone doubting her abilities, b
ut there was no way I could keep seeing her every day and not act on my desires.

  Even in that moment, I was desperate for it to be her hands, her mouth on my cock. I didn’t think there was anything I wouldn’t do to make that happen, make her want to be in my bed instead of alone in the guest room. Not a chance in hell would I ever let that happen tonight.

  Groaning, I fisted my shaft, wishing it were Reagan, wishing those tiny, hot kisses she’d drunkenly placed on my neck had somehow found their way to my cock. Her tongue, licking her lips so slowly. I convulsed as I imagined what that would feel like. She was who I wanted, but even my focused desire for Reagan couldn’t completely push away the memory of that last smile she gave Charis. My breathing hitched as my hand rocked up and down, twisted wonderings of what Reagan may have done in her past and with who…what she might want to do in the future. I moaned as I hit the limit of my control and cum fell hot over my abdomen, finally granting me release.

  It wasn’t how I’d hoped the night would end. Reagan was in my apartment. In the guest room. Untouchable. There wasn’t a chance of getting close to her until I could do it without making her fear others would suspect she was sleeping her way to the top.

  A year ago, my plan had been simple. Groom her into a star manager, recommend her to Marie for a promotion, put her on more equal terms with me, maybe even transfer her to another magazine, even though I would hate to lose her on my team. Once Reagan saw me as an equal, along with everyone else, ask her out and never give her a reason not to agree to a next date.

  That had gone out the window the moment I had Ben pull her into my office. Really, even more so when I got that call from Marie on my way to the tavern to tell me about the convention. The trip was two months away and Marie wanted a classy and confident Reagan there. Not a coed, as she’d put it. Given my interest in Reagan, fulfilling that request had become my sole responsibility. I suspected Marie was also hoping it would push me into acting, though I wasn’t entirely sure I bought her reasoning.

  Dragging myself off the bed, I made my way to the master bath to clean up and get ready for bed. I was brushing my teeth when a thought occurred to me. Marie’s request that I make sure Reagan was presentable for the convention had largely been in reference to her wardrobe. As I thought about it a little longer, I supposed she also could have meant for me to teach Reagan how to survive a high pressure crowd that would be watching her every move. Training like that would take time, and being thick in the middle of that sort of crowd. Upscale restaurants like Brie and posh art shows I was frequently required to attend were perfect for that sort of thing.

  Suddenly, I had a new plan.

  ***

  Blinking slowly, I wondered why I felt simultaneously restricted and bizarrely comfortable. Attempting to extract myself from the sheets made me start in surprise. My sheets were pale blue. These were beige, and a silky cotton that felt amazing against my skin. Everything that had happened the night before came back in a rush and my heart stopped.

  “Reagan,” a voice called through the door. His voice. My boss’s voice. “I figured your phone may have died and you didn’t have an alarm. I wanted to wake you early enough that you could shower and eat if you wanted to. There are clothes for you on the dresser.”

  Shower? I pulled the sheets away from my chest and glanced down, relieved when I found the green dress still on my body. We didn’t have sex. I couldn’t have breathed during sex in this dress. My hands dropped to the bed, maybe just a little disappointed. Then I fell back against the pillows and groaned. I couldn’t imagine what Mr. Gabriel must have thought of me after last night.

  “Reagan, are you feeling all right?” he asked.

  Stifling my mortification for a moment, I said, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  He didn’t respond right away. “Okay.” He paused again. “Well, the attached bathroom is the door to the right of this one. Everything you should need is in there. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re done.”

  He was going to make me breakfast? I was really confused. “Um, thank you.” That seemed to come out as more of a question than actual appreciation.

  I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed until I heard his footsteps carry far enough from the door there was no chance of him bursting in unexpectedly. Not that there was anything to see. I still had all my clothes on from last night. Even still, I was terrified of him coming to tell me something, opening the door for some reason, and catching me in the middle of trying to get out of the too-tight dress. Unable to quench my paranoia, I sprinted for the bathroom.

  After locking the door unnecessarily, I glanced around and realized there really was everything I needed. Two pre-prepared baskets sat on the countertop of the double sink. One stocked for a male guest. One for a female guest. That seemed vaguely odd as I struggled to get the zipper of the dress down. I wasn’t going to knock it, though. Question it at some later point if I ever got the nerve up, yes, but certainly not complain.

  I snatched shampoo and conditioner out of the basket along with a razor and body wash, then took the fastest shower of my life. I would have skipped shaving entirely, but I had no clue what Brandon had in mind for that morning and wasn’t about to embarrass myself in front of him any further by showing up with prickly legs and underarms.

  It wasn’t until I was toweling off that I realized I hadn’t thought to look for the clothes Mr. Gabriel had mentioned and bring them into the bathroom with me. Sighing, I wrapped my towel around my body as tightly as I could manage and peeked my head out into the room. Of course it was empty. I spotted the stack of clothes on top of a dresser across the room and hurried over to it.

  When I looked at the clothes, I wasn’t sure what to think. I knew Marie didn’t appreciate my style. Mr. Gabriel had never once complained. Yet, there were cropped, skinny slacks in a slate gray, a capped-sleeve knit top with wide blue and white stripes running horizontally, a pair of red ballet flats, and…a matching bra and panty set. All with the tags still on. Holding the clothes up to my body, they looked as if they would fit, which was a little weird.

  I wasn’t completely sure I wanted to put them on, but I didn’t really have any other choices, so I started shimmying into everything as fast as I could. I supposed I shouldn’t have been shocked with the perfect fit, given how strange the morning had been so far, but I was anyway. The slacks slid on perfectly over an exact fit of the panties. I’d never worn a shirt so soft and comfortable in my life. Even though I made a good salary, I had never been the type of girl who splurged on clothes. I was beginning to think I really had been missing out, as Emily complained.

  Despite Mr. Gabriel’s attention to detail in the toiletries area, I had no makeup with me and figured Emily would do whatever Brandon wanted for the shoot, so I didn’t even bother with it or blow drying my hair. Once I was dressed, I slipped my feet into the ballet flats, gathered the clothes from last night, and went out to meet my boss in shame.

  “Just in time,” he said when I reached the kitchen. He slid a plate of toast and scrambled eggs over next to a bar stool and gestured for me to go ahead and start without him, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

  Setting my clothes and shoes on a nearby end table, I sat down on the bar stool but didn’t touch the food yet. Mr. Gabriel sat down across from me and noticed my hesitation. “If you’re not an egg person, don’t feel like you have to eat it. I can make you something else, too.”

  “No, this is great,” I said quickly. I shook my head. “I just feel bad you’re being so nice. I mean, the clothes and the baskets in the bathroom, breakfast, letting me stay here last night. This is way beyond looking out for an employee. I feel horrible about last night.”

  Mr. Gabriel set down his fork and looked at me squarely. “The baskets in the bathroom are always there. Mainly because when my parents come to visit, they forget half of what they meant to bring and I got tired of making seven a.m. drug store runs. The clothes are no big deal. I called in an order
and Ben picked it up this morning, though he didn’t know what was in it or who it was for, so please don’t think I had Ben picking out a bra for you.”

  He chuckled when my face turned red. “How did you know my sizes?” I asked quietly.

  Shrugging, he said, “I’ve worked with enough models over the years to be able to pin down a woman’s clothing size easily enough, and it really wasn’t a big deal. None of it. You staying was no trouble at all, and it’s not often I get to eat breakfast with someone, so thank you for that. It’s rather nice.”

  I blushed again, but this time he didn’t laugh. He smiled, a slow smile that melted away my embarrassment. Well, most of it anyway. There was still last night to feel like an idiot about. “I shouldn’t have drank that whole jar. It was a lot more powerful than I thought it would be.”

  Mr. Gabriel waved it off. “Three shots of good whiskey have a kick, and you hadn’t eaten much beforehand. Really, it was more my fault than yours. I hope you’ll forgive me for the chaos of last night.”

  I stared at him stupidly.

  He didn’t seem to notice and continued on with his own thoughts. “You don’t have lunch plans, do you?”

  “What?” I asked. “Uh, no. I don’t think so.” My eyes narrowed and I couldn’t help but be wary. “Why?”

  He laughed at my reaction. It was the kind of laugh I adored, full and rich, but rare. “I guess I deserve that.” He shook his head as he smiled. “I’d like you to have lunch with me.”

  I choked on a piece of egg. Coughing and trying again, I swallowed and stared at him again. “Why?”

  His smile mellowed into something dangerously like seductive. “Because I enjoy your company, and because I want to prepare you for the convention. They majority of the crowd there who’ll surround Marie will be even worse than Brandon. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take you to lunch and start getting you used to the people, atmosphere, and etiquette so I don’t end up making you feel out of place again.”