“Funny. I was thinking the same thing. Just this morning, in fact,” I said low in my throat, volume barely in the range of normal conversation. A shift from my usual commanding mien.
She finally turned to look at me. “Really?” she asked with a hopeful look before catching herself and schooling her features.
“Yes. Because I believe I owe you an apology.”
“Just one?” She folded her arms across her chest. Classic closed-off body language on display. “Or is it a blanket sort of thing? A cover-all for myriad transgressions?”
“I hadn’t thought that far, I guess. How many transgressions are we talking here?” One side of my mouth kicked up in amusement. She was sexy as hell when she was trying to stay mad.
“Is this amusing? Or are you genuinely offering contrition right now?” She tilted her head to the side in a challenge as I came around the front of my desk and approached where she stood.
“I can’t help smiling when you’re near me, Ms. Gibson.” I stepped closer to her. “Much in the same way I can’t help touching you when you’re near me.” I reached for the hands she wrung together in front of her apron like I’d seen her do several times before.
“No.” She dropped her hands to her sides so I couldn’t take them in mine. “You don’t get to do that right now. You really sent some crazy signals the other night at your palace. I can’t repeat a spin cycle like that again. If that’s your normal routine, I’m going to say no thank you. To all of it.” She took a step back so I couldn’t touch her.
“Nothing about this”—I motioned between the two of us—“has been my normal anything, so I’m flying blind here, Abbigail. Maybe admitting that to you will earn me some slack in the forgiveness zone?” I raised my eyebrows with the question.
I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. She just watched me, maybe trying to reorganize the attack strategy I’d upended. I could only guess since she wasn’t giving me a clue.
“Say something,” I finally bit out harsher than I intended, and she recoiled slightly at the tone.
“Listen, I appreciate the apology. I do. It’s much more than I expected, actually. Thank you for that. But I would also appreciate some sort of explanation. One minute, your mouth was doing fantastic things to my body; the next minute, your front door was nearly spanking my ass. That was whiplash-worthy behavior if I’d ever seen it, Sebastian.” She looked at me expectantly. The ball was back in my court.
I dropped my chin to my chest, kicking my own mental ass for making her feel the way I had. It was shitty the way I acted, and now . . . hell. How would I explain what drove my ridiculous behavior without getting into the history behind it? Because I sure as hell wasn’t about to do that.
“Let’s sit down for a minute.” I motioned toward the sofa grouping where she usually set up my lunch. “Can you spare the time?”
“Yes, that’s why I came early today. I wanted to talk this out with you, and it hasn’t escaped my notice you’ve been avoiding me for seven days. Nine if you include the weekend. But who’s counting?”
I chuckled at that, hoping she’d join in as we both sat down. No such luck. We lowered to separate couches but faced each other.
“Contrary to whatever you’ve let yourself believe, I have a hectic schedule, none of which had anything to do with seeing or not seeing you.” That was a lie. I had most certainly adjusted my schedule to avoid her. But I had to do what I had to do. Starry-eyed girls who hoped to find their Prince Charming didn’t fit into my life. If she were going to stay a part of my world—still just a strictly hypothetical concept—she’d have to adjust her mind-set and fast.
“Okay.” She swallowed hard, and the familiar surge of need pulsed in my dick.
Jesus, girl. What is it about you?
I watched her, fascinated. Entranced by the physical pull of her nearness. Until she broke the spell, short as it was, by continuing the inquisition.
“Why did a business phone call make you so upset? You. Of all people. I have to assume you do business at all hours of the day to have grown your business to this magnitude.” She looked around the office as a visual reference to go along with her remark. “I mean, I’m not wrong, am I? It was the phone call?”
“It wasn’t the call as much as it was the caller.”
“Viktor Blake?” She looked confused at my tone.
“I hate that man.”
“Yep. Picking up that vibe.” She nodded swiftly. “Loud and clear.”
“I hate that he called you. I hate that he called you at my home.” My voice grew darker with the memory, so I tried to ease up. I really did, I swear. “I understand you are a business owner, and I understand he may very well be a client of yours.”
“That’s exactly right, Sebastian. He’s a client. And that’s all he is at the moment.”
My face—and gut, for that matter—twisted at the last part of that comment, but I soldiered through it, not giving up my position in the conversation. I had an actual point to make, goddammit. We could circle back to the “at the moment” wording in a minute.
“I hate that he called you when I was three seconds from pushing my tongue inside your cunt.”
“Seeh . . . baas . . . tiiaann.” My name came out of her mouth in three lusty syllables. All with rushes of needy breath in between. Her hand fluttered up to the base of her throat as she said them.
My cock was a steel rod. It was begging for a way out of my suit pants, pulsing against the inside of my zipper. I had to adjust myself to find a more comfortable position to sit without causing some sort of blood-supply emergency.
“There. You wanted an explanation. There’s your explanation. Happy? I’m a jealous son of a bitch on top of controlling, tyrannical, egotistical, dictatorial, and let’s see, what else? I’m sure there’s something else.”
“Asshole?” she squeaked.
I gawked at her from where I sat.
“You think I’m an asshole?” I nearly whispered, actually feeling wounded.
“Not really. But a lot of people do,” she quickly corrected.
“They can go fuck themselves.” I shook my head dismissively. “I only care what you think. Whether I’m crazy for admitting that out loud is yet to be determined.” I had to look away. I couldn’t maintain eye contact while I waited to be gutted by her possible rejection.
“No. I like you. That’s the problem. As foolish as it may be, I can’t deny it. I like you, Sebastian.”
I moved faster than she could track. One second, I was sitting where I had been the entire conversation, and the next I was crowding her against the back cushions of the sofa where she was sitting. My thigh pressed along hers, the heat of my body melting into the heat of hers. We could burn this damn building to the ground.
I toyed with the apron tie under her thick ponytail. I wanted nothing more than to undo the knot and tug the front down, pull her T-shirt up, and lick my way from her navel to her lips, imprinting myself there so she’d feel sinful even considering speaking Viktor Blake’s name again.
“Whoa,” she whispered, eyes enormous and watchful, so full of arousal.
“What? What is it, Little Red?”
“I’m . . . I’m not sure. The look on your face. You look like you could eat me alive right now.”
I laughed deep in my throat. “Oh, baby”—I shook my head—“if you only knew the things I want to do to you with my mouth.” I leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose and then pulled back.
She kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, and when she finally opened them again, she looked even more aroused than before.
“Sinful things, Little Red . . . ” Like lightning, an idea struck me. “Hey, let’s go away for the weekend. Get out of this town and away from the distractions.”
“Whaaa?” she squawked.
“Away. Weekend. Follow along, Ms. Gibson. It’s not that complicated,” I teased, hopping up from the sofa. She followed, and we both stood in front of my desk.
> “Okay, maybe you are an asshole.” She was the one grinning then, so I knew the teasing tables had turned. This girl would give as good as she got.
“I’ll take care of all the plans. You just clear your schedule. I’ll have Terryn email you the details.” It was as good as done. When I made up my mind, things happened.
“But I—” she protested, but I held up my hand, basically ending our talk.
“It’s settled, then.” I bulldozed right past any objections she was thinking up by taking her roughly in my arms and kissing her. When I released her, her cheeks were flushed, lips a bit swollen, and eyes dazed.
“But I—” she said again before I cut her off.
“Ms. Gibson, I have a ton of work ahead of me today. So, unless you want to have a preview of how we’re going to spend the better part of the weekend, right here on the top of my desk? I suggest you hurry on your way.”
I gave her a very wolfish grin while ushering her to the door.
“Check your email.” I winked and all but pushed her out the door for the second time in our very short time of knowing each other. But this time, the promise of much better things danced in my imagination.
Chapter Eleven
Abbi
It was officially the day that couldn’t get any more bizarre—until it had.
Sebastian Shark had devastated me.
Had melted me with his contrition. Gutted me with his naughtiness. Rocked me with his growling protectiveness—before turning me to mush with his dominant passion.
He’d teased me about having his way with me on his desk, right then and there.
I’d almost called him on it. Okay, probably more than almost. I’d damn near begged him for it. How I’d wanted him, in every dirty, decadent way he was inferring.
Yet I’d let him usher me out his door, complete with my dazed senses and my needy sex. Somehow, I’d finished my deliveries through the rest of the building, but I barely remembered doing so. No wonder, since every inch of my bloodstream felt like neon rope lights and every breath in my lungs became an open temptation to scream.
Instead, I concentrated on the contacts list in my phone—more specifically, on one name.
Sebastian.
Just standing there, imagining my fingers typing a text to him, made my chest throb with twice the agony as before.
What the hell was I supposed to say, anyway? Sure, the truth was a good place to start—but actually doing it? Actually tapping out the words?
Hey there. Before you start packing, I thought you might want to know that I snore sometimes. And oh yeah, I’m a virgin.
Oh, dear God.
“Anyone in the mood for a train wreck?” I mumbled. Because today hadn’t brought enough of those already. But as my thumb hovered over the Send key, my screen switched to signal an incoming text from him. And a smile broke out across my lips.
Hi there. Pesky neighborhood asshole here.
My giggle was instant, bouncing off the walls of the mercifully empty elevator. I gulped it down, ignoring the hot blush and tremoring fingers that followed. For Christ’s sake—all this from a text message. Somehow, I managed to tap out a reply.
Hello again. Neighborhood sandwich goddess, at your service.
I’ve always dreamed of being serviced by a goddess.
Flattery will get you everywhere.
My new giggle was fed by substantial nerves. “Oh, my God.” This was such strange territory for me. Even in my early teens, long before my mom died, I rarely ventured out of the friend zone with boys. Having four brothers gave me a distinct advantage to understanding the male mind-set, but that didn’t always bode well in the dating department.
Those same brothers had impossibly high standards for potential suitors, which meant my affections often went unrequited. Silver lining on that? I was never in a position like this. A slave to my phone screen—and the merciless charge of my damn libido.
I’d never been this scared to death, either.
Or so freaking exhilarated.
So full of wild, giddy life.
This was like that first ride on Space Mountain, when you pull back in to the platform and you don’t know whether to laugh or throw up, but you know for damn sure you want to go around again.
My breath hitched as the little dots from Sebastian’s side of the conversation started dancing again. And then stopped.
Are you still in the building?
I bit my bottom lip, once more debating my answer. And then . . . not.
I just finished lunch rounds. On the elevator down to the lobby.
My delay in his office had only lasted fifteen minutes, but I’d taken advantage of the extra time to stroll through my deliveries as if floating through the clouds his kiss had taken me to.
Well, send the thing back up.
And the heaven he now beckoned me back to.
I’m already ten minutes behind.
But you’re still in my building.
Only the top thirty floors are yours. So technically . . .
No dancing dots this time.
I was pierced by disappointment and victory at once. Guess I was the winner of this round.
It was time to focus on the next downtown delivery. King Holdings was a smaller office with easier drops, and I looked forward to getting in and out of a building without navigating overbearing assistants, sobbing strangers, or men with agendas other than what they’d hired me for.
After the elevator doors closed, I pulled out my smart pad and started focusing—well, attempting to—on the orders I’d need to load up for the King building.
I got as far as scanning the first batch before looking back up, perplexed about why the elevator wasn’t moving. I’d pressed the damn button, but the car hadn’t moved an inch.
“What . . . the . . . ”
“Ms. Gibson?”
I jumped a little and then whirled around. “Wh-Who is—”
“Apologies, ma’am.” The voice was a professional baritone. For a second I wondered if God was using the elevator speakers to rebuke me for every filthy thing I’d imagined about Sebastian Shark over the last hour. But God didn’t usually apologize and probably would have used my full name.
“Wh-What’s going on?”
“Are you Abbigail Eileen Gibson?”
Shit.
“I swear, only a couple of the visions got really carnal. And I promise I’ll go to confession on Sunday—oh, dammit—I mean darn it—I’m going to be out of town on Sunday. Can Monday be okay? Confession is open then too, right?”
“Please just answer the question,” the voice cut in.
“R-Right . . . ” I hauled in a deep breath. “Yes. I’m Abbigail Gibson. Is there a prob—”
A loud buzz erupted from the speakers, indicating my holy intervention had ended. Probably a good thing, since a new string of shit-shit-shits spilled out of me as the elevator moved at last.
Shooting straight up instead of down.
Holy crap.
What was going on?
My careening mind supplied a few ideas. Option A: Someone had keeled over after eating lunch, and the Abstract Catering box was already being blamed. And B: Sebastian Shark had a higher operations clearance in this building than God himself and had ordered that my elevator destination be overridden.
As the elevator doors opened again, I was definitely rooting for Option B.
Light flooded into the car, and as I shielded my eyes from the glare, a perfunctory voice yipped out at me.
“Ms. Gibson.”
I jumped inwardly but plastered on a friendly smile. “Hi there, Terryn. Long time no see.”
My sarcasm didn’t amuse her. As she turned and began clacking her heels along the marble, she twirled a finger in the air. “Come along,” she instructed. “Bring the cart if you need to. He wants you again.”
“Oh . . . all right.”
Better than all right.
I followed Terryn into Sebastian’s innermost haven, and he sh
oved back from his position near the window, stealing my breath as he moved with alpha-wolf stealth. On his way over, he tossed aside a report he’d been reading. Though his stare never left me, the report swooped to a perfect stop in the middle of the conference table.
“Thank you, Terryn,” he murmured. “That’ll be all for now.”
“Of course, Mr. Shark.” Only now did I realize Terryn had been holding her breath too. “Oh! Your water pitcher is empty. Let me fetch you some more—”
“Later.” The man still barely blinked, continuing to bathe me in the dark-blue tide pools of his gaze.
“But I’ll only be a moment. It’s no trouble at—”
“Later!”
Holy shit. The wolf was ready to bare his fangs any second. I warmed to the thought at once, despite how he flashed me a roguish wink. His action lowered the intimate bubble around us, even as he raised his voice to a boom that could have filled the Staples Center arena.
“And Terryn? Shut the door thoroughly. Hold all my calls. I’m not to be disturbed for the next half hour.”
“Y-Yes, Mr. Shark.”
My nerves were ready to concede an alliance with the woman’s wobbly voice, but as soon as Terryn was gone, they were drenched by a wave of curious calm. I expected it to recede as soon as I stepped out from behind the cart, especially as Sebastian stalked over as if leading the wolf pack to take sample bites out of me. But as he dipped and did just that to my neck, I wrapped my hands around his head and bent back, exposing even more flesh for his questing lips and tongue.
Yes.
What this ferocious, demanding, force of nature did to me . . .
“My God, woman.”
Especially when he growled things like that into my skin.
“What’s this about, calling me back here?” I managed to ask, despite my shallow breaths and deepening desire. The crevice between my legs turned into pure heat, a torment from which he gave me no mercy, digging his teeth into the sensitive valley beneath my ear.
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