What You Need

by Lorelei James

  shared was lazy and sweet and we were both reluctant for it to end.

  Her shiver broke me out of the haze and I gently urged her back. “You’re cold.”

  “A little.”

  “Any chance I can warm you up in my bed tonight?”

  She shook her head. “Another night.”

  “That’s why I wanted to see you.”

  “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “Only if you don’t care that I’m going to Atlanta for the week.”

  “The whole week?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’ll be home on the weekend?”

  “No.”

  Her face fell.

  It probably made me a dick that I was a little happy in her disappointment because it mirrored mine.. “Jaxson has a hockey game in Atlanta Friday night, and Jensen plays in Atlanta Sunday night. The whole family is flying down for both games. So I won’t be back until Monday night.”

  “That sucks.”

  “I’ll call you when I can this week, okay?”

  “Okay. But it won’t be the same.”

  “No. It won’t.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lennox

  ‡

  One week later . . .

  Brady hadn’t even been in the office all week and I was dealing with questions and comments about us.

  “So you and Brady Lund, the big bad CFO.”

  “Did he ask you out when he learned firsthand how good you give . . . dictation?”

  “I heard you two were doing it in the office supplies closet on the seventh floor.”

  I was wrong about the level of interest my relationship with the Lund CFO would garner—it seemed everyone who worked for LI felt the need to weigh in or ask whatever question popped into their heads, even a week after we’d been outed and it should have been old news. I wanted to bust heads, but I knew what Lola had been getting at: My every action was under way more scrutiny than it had been before.

  But I still had a screaming headache by noon.

  Sydney and I were eating lunch in the employee break room. She’d been the least surprised by the fact Brady and I were together.

  “I knew that he had it bad for you from the moment he started stopping by our floor wanting to argue with you about everything.”

  I was picking through the salad I’d gotten on my way to work this morning. My head was throbbing so much my vision seemed fuzzy and my stomach was upset.

  All the chatter in the area died and I knew Brady had walked in.

  I hadn’t seen him in a week. I should’ve tackled him and kissed his lips off. But I didn’t move.

  He didn’t give any pretense that he’d come in here for any reason other than that he was looking for me. I felt his hand on my shoulder, but he addressed my coworker first. “Good afternoon, Sydney.”

  “Same to you, Mr. Lund.”

  “Lennox?”

  I looked up at him. The man was so gorgeous he hurt my eyes.

  Or maybe that was just the headache. I couldn’t muster a smile. “Hey.”

  “After I’ve been gone a week, I get a ‘Hey’?” His eyes searched mine. “You okay?”

  “No, she’s not okay,” Sydney answered.

  “I’m fine.”

  “She’s got a really bad headache,” Sydney said to Brady. “Lennox never complains, and god forbid she’d ever go home sick, but you can see she’s in pain.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” Brady crouched down. “Look at me.”

  I lifted my head and winced.

  “Do you get migraines?”

  “I never have before.”

  He curled his hand around the side of my face. “Christ, Lennox, your skin is clammy.”

  “I’m sure it’ll pass.”

  “Have you taken anything for it?”

  “No.”

  “I have some stuff that’ll help.” He stood. “Sydney, would you please dispose of Lennox’s lunch for me?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Come on. Let’s get you fixed up.” Brady pulled my chair back and helped me to my feet.

  I was aware of every pair of eyes on us as he placed his hand at the small of my back and guided me out of the break room. I tried to keep my professional distance.

  As soon as we were in the elevator, he said, “Come here,” and wrapped me in his arms.

  His hold on me tightened. I sighed and he kissed the top of my head.

  I was vaguely aware of us entering his office suite. I felt so dizzy and nauseous that I stepped back, afraid I’d throw up on his expensive suit.

  But I swayed and my vision went black the way it would right before passing out.

  “Goddammit, Lennox,” Brady barked and swept me into his arms. “You’d rather face-plant into the wall than let me help you?”

  “You have more important things to do, Mr. CFO, than tend to me.”

  “Wrong.”

  We started to move, but I couldn’t open my eyes to see where we were going.

  “Jenna, see that we’re not disturbed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Call Lennox’s supervisor and let her know she’ll be out the rest of the day. Have someone bring her things up here.”

  “Of course. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “No. I’ll take care of her.”

  “Brady, you can’t—” I tried to protest.

  “Stop fighting me on this. I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

  A door slammed behind us.

  I figured he’d set me on the couch in his office, so I was surprised when I opened my eyes to see us enter a room off the sitting area that I’d assumed was a private bathroom.

  But it was a private bedroom.

  With a bed.

  An unmade bed.

  Brady gently laid me down. As soon as the back of my neck met the cool pillow, I closed my eyes and sighed. I turned my head and the scent of Brady’s cologne drifted up, so I knew he’d spent the night in here recently.

  A rough-skinned hand circled my ankle and he wiggled my left shoe off my foot, then my right shoe.

  The room went silent.

  I tried to focus on my breathing, hoping that would chase away the stabbing pain in my head.

  The mattress dipped.

  I immediately tried to sit up.

  But he pressed one hand on my shoulder and the other against my stomach, cautioning me, “Slowly.”

  As soon as I was upright, I noticed he held a glass of water and a bottle of pills. “What’s that?”

  “A miracle drug. It’ll get rid of your headache. The only drawback is it will knock you out for a few hours. But you can stay here and I’ll keep an eye on you.” He shook out a pill and held it to my lips. “Open.”

  I couldn’t look away from the tender concern in his eyes as I swallowed the medicine with a long drink of cold water.

  “What is this place?” Half a dozen suits hung in the open closet space. There was also a rack of ties and several pairs of dress shoes lined up on a shelf next to workout wear and gear.

  “It’s supposed to be a dressing room. I got rid of the uncomfortable chaise in favor of an actual bed.”

  I smoothed my hand down the outside of his arm. “Brady, how often do you sleep in here?”

  A muscle in his jaw ticced. “Too often.”

  “Did you sleep here after you got back from Atlanta?”

  “Yes.” He ran his knuckles across my jaw. “I knew if I went home I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I caught up on some work and crashed here about three a.m.”

  “You should be the one getting TLC, not me.”

  “I like that you know what this is.” He swept his thumb across my bottom lip. “I like that you let me do this for you.”

  It seemed appropriate somehow when a fresh wave of pain nearly split my head in two that I realized I’d fallen for him. Four weeks ago, he was the beautiful, aloof CFO I admired from afar. Now, here I was in his private dressin
g room, with him tending to me with a loving touch that surprised both of us.

  Brady pressed his lips to my forehead in a lingering kiss. “You’ll want to be lying down when the medicine kicks in.”

  As soon as I’d gotten settled, he draped a cool cloth over my eyes and tucked the blanket around my feet. “I’ll leave the door open. I’m right outside if you need anything.”

  *

  I woke up and my head was clear, completely free from pain.

  The dressing room didn’t have windows, so I didn’t know what time it was. Before I sat up, I stretched out in this bed Brady regularly slept in. It caused a sharp ache in my chest to think of him in this tiny space alone and exhausted.

  Once I was upright, I noticed he’d placed a can of Coke on the table with a note propped up in front of it that said DRINK ME in Brady’s bold handwriting. I reached out and the can was still cold. I popped the top and chugged almost the entire thing. Within a few minutes, the fizzy sugar buzz pushed me one step closer to feeling human.

  Off to the left of the dressing room was another door that did lead to a bathroom. A “Holy shit, the CFO has a nicer bathroom in his office than I have in my house” kind of bathroom. All marble, glass and chrome, with a walk-in shower, the toilet separated like a water closet, and a deep sink and vanity with a mirror that rose up at least twelve feet to the sloped ceiling.

  I used the toilet, washed my hands and face, ran a comb through my hair and went looking for my man.

  Brady was still at his desk. Papers were strewn everywhere. His dark hair nearly stood on end, he’d run his hands through it so many times.

  But it wasn’t his crazy, sexy hair or the pursed set to his full lips or even the hint of chest hair peeking out from his shirt where he’d loosened his silk tie. No, what snared my attention was that Brady Lund wore glasses.

  Tortoiseshell glasses that made him look even more like a smart woman’s wet dream—a geeky brainiac numbers man.

  Glasses that made him look hotter than ever—I’d take Clark Kent in his suit and glasses over Superman any day.

  Glasses that made me want to climb on top of him and test the bounce factor of that chair.

  So I decided to go for it.

  “It’s not fair, you know,” I said as I sauntered toward him.

  He glanced up and gave me a head-to-toe inspection before the concern in his eyes melted into warmth. “You’re feeling better.”

  “Yes, thanks to you.” I walked behind the desk, grabbed on to the armrests of his fancy office chair and spun him around to face me.

  He seemed curious about my invading his space, but he merely quirked his eyebrow in the way that made me want to lick him all over.

  I whispered, “Ask me.”

  “Ask you what?”

  “Ask me why I said it’s not fair.”

  “What’s not fair, Lennox?”

  “This.” I gestured to incorporate all of him. “You, being the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. You being the smartest man I’ve ever met. I can even forgive you for covering up your smoking hot body because no other man wears a suit as well as you do. No one.”

  He waited for me to continue, because he knew I wasn’t done.

  “But then I wake up, in your bed, after you cared for me so sweetly, and my skin smells like you, my hair smells like you and all I want is you. So I come out here and find you still wearing that suit that drives me wild. Not only that, you’re wearing glasses.”

  Brady’s hand immediately went up to his face as if he was surprised—or maybe embarrassed—that he’d been caught with them on.

  I stayed his hand. “Huh-uh. Leave. Them. On.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it makes you even more appealing to me, Mr. Lund. That is what tipped me over the edge.”

  His gaze zoomed to my cleavage so he didn’t see it coming when I climbed on his lap. I kissed his mouth. Then his nose. Then I very carefully took off his glasses. “Tell me no if you don’t want this.”

  His hands moved up my thighs and around my hips to cup my behind. Then he pulled me closer to his body. “You really think I’m going to say no?”

  “I didn’t want to assume.”

  He laughed softly.

  I kissed him. And kept kissing him as he unbuttoned my blouse, as he unsnapped my bra, as he thrilled me with the greedy touch of his big hands on my breasts and my belly. He shimmied my skirt up my thighs and his fingers slipped between them. He groaned against my lips when he found me hot and wet. His groan turned into a growl when I reached down and squeezed his rigid shaft.

  Brady kissed a path down my chest and latched on to my nipple. With his teeth.

  That made me crazy.

  He licked and sucked, bit and nibbled and had me ready to crawl out of my skin; all the while he kept up the maddening—and sometimes fleeting—strokes over my aching flesh.

  The temperature in the room had increased by about a thousand degrees. We were both sweating, panting, straining, and it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

  Then Brady’s hand was in my hair and he yanked my mouth back down to his. His kiss revealed the same desperation that was consuming me.

  “Lennox—” He panted against my throat. “Turn around.”

  Wait. Was he—?

  “Bend over the desk.”

  Oh. My. God. I almost came right then.

  Brady Lund was really doing it. Giving in to passion. Not giving a damn about the proper way we should make love for the first time. Not giving a damn that I’d probably knock all of his important papers off the desk when he slammed into me on that first thrust. He wanted me fast, he wanted me hard and he wanted me now.

  I scrambled off his lap so quickly I almost fell on my butt.