by Emma Hart
Oh, God. He didn’t.
“My skirt! The shelf!”
He didn’t say a thing.
“Your hair looks like I’ve been running my nails through it in the heat of passion!”
“In a wild make-out session, you mean.”
“Does it matter? Oooh!” I threw another highlighter at him. Orange, this time. If anyone was keeping count. “She thinks we’ve been getting it on when all that happened was you scaring the ever-loving shit out of me so I wrecked half the place!”
He dropped his eyes to my feet. “Talking of…Those are high heels. Did you hurt yourself?”
“Only my ass and my pride!”
“After the boob thing, the bra thing, and the cobblestones, I didn’t know you had much pride left where I was concerned. Oh—and don’t forget the gin.” He grinned.
The bastard.
“Now, you listen here.” I stood up and pointed my finger at him. “All those things were accidental. They were not my fault. I’m a sucker for a dare, and that’s why you know what my boobs look like.”
“Not unfortunately.”
“You are the one who showed up at my house unexpected and uninvited, and that’s why you know what my bra looks like!”
“A very nice bra. Victoria Secret?”
“The cobblestones last night were wet, and that was a freak accident.”
“That had you landing in my arms.”
“And the gin! Ohh, the gin. That’s your fault for scaring the life out of me!”
“Like the shelf, right?” He grinned. A shit-eating, cocky as fuck grin that said he was playing along.
Unfortunately for my big mouth, I was on a roll.
“Like the shelf! And that kiss last night? Not my fault, either. Nope. You went for the cheek, and I went for the front door. That kiss was all your fault, buddy!”
I froze.
All the fresh air seemed to be sucked from the room. My playful tantrum had turned into something more. Something more real. Something that wasn’t funny or brushed off with a bit of sarcastic banter.
Something I hadn’t intended to bring up.
My grandma always said I had a big mouth and it’d get me in trouble one day…
Jake’s eyes shone brightly, swirling with attraction and amusement, lust and frustration. “Did I go for the cheek?”
My mouth opened, and there were words in my mind, but nothing happened. I was forcing out air because there were no words.
There was nothing more than six feet between us, and he closed that distance in what seemed like seconds.
Then he was there. In front of me. Eyes blazing gray and lips pursed and stubble ready to be touched by my fingers.
My heart thundered.
I couldn’t look at him, but I couldn’t look away. Every second my eyes stayed trained on his was almost painful, from the goosebumps to the hairs to the way my stomach tightened whenever he got close.
He set me on fire.
He wasn’t even touching me.
There were inches between us, but I could feel him anyway. I could feel how every exhale filled the air between us and how every inhale took away from it. How he gave and took away with each breath he took.
How he gave and took as he came one step closer.
Gave me butterflies.
Took any rationality.
Gave me wildness.
Took sensibility.
He reached for me. His fingertips ghosted along the side of my face, tickling across my temple until they reached my hair. He tucked the loose, wispy locks behind my ear, using the intimate touch to close the very final inches between us.
His breath.
I could feel it.
His heartbeat.
It beat hard enough that I could feel its vibrations on me.
His touch.
It electrified me.
“Oh, Mellie,” he murmured, bringing his face closer to mine. His nose. His lips. The taste of his tongue. Always closer. “You think that was a kiss, spitfire? That wasn’t a kiss. This is a kiss.”
His fingers slipped into my hair. His lips found mine like he had a map from him to me, and my eyes fluttered shut at the pure ecstasy that spread through me at the simple yet intimate touch.
Slow, at first. Then more probing, but still not too forceful. That was how he kissed me. He kissed me like I was a treasure chest worth exploring. He kissed me like I was worth millions of hidden gold.
He kissed me like he’d never kiss another woman again, and I reveled in his touch.
One hand in my hair, fingers fisting the loose locks and tugging them against my scalp.
One hand circling my waist, tickling against my skin and digging in to hold me as close as possible.
Hands. Fingers. Hips. Chest. Lips. Tongue.
Soul-deep. I felt his kiss soul-deep, and it wound around my soul and latched onto a piece of it.
My hands slid up his chest and one cupped the side of his neck. I was against the wall now, my lower back still throbbing, but I barely cared. If it didn’t feel as good as his tongue teasing mine into battle for dominance, I didn’t care.
I could barely breathe through it. Nothing mattered other than the way he kissed me.
Like he meant it.
Which was ridiculous, but here I was, against the wall, kissing him like I meant it.
Hell.
Maybe I did.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It cut through the kiss like a hot knife through butter. But he didn’t jump away. He flattened his hands on the wall and turned his face in the direction of the door.
“Who is it?” Jake snapped.
“Lillie,” she said. “It’s Mr. Decaux on the phone for you again, Mr. Creed.”
“Fucking hell,” he said under his breath before he pushed off from the wall. “Co—”
I shook my head. His mouth was covered in my lipstick. Clearly, I hadn’t bothered to wear anything long-lasting, today of all days. I motioned to my mouth, hoping he’d get the message.
“Hold on,” he called.
I opened my drawer and pulled out a make-out wipe packet. Tearing a wipe from the packet, I raised my eyebrows to tell him to shut up. He obliged, and only looked at me strangely once when I wiped every last remnant of my make-up off his mouth.
“Bathroom,” he whispered, shoving me in that direction.
I didn’t argue. I went. My heart beating furiously and my entire body wanting more than just that kiss.
I shut the door behind me and leaned against it.
Holy. Shit.
What did I just do?
Chapter Thirteen – Jacob
Upside #13: The only blonde you want to fuck over a desk is one you see in porn. Unless Melanie Rogers kisses you like she’s drowning. Then you forget the porn.
Motherfucker.
My cock throbbed like a teenage boys. What the fuck did I do now? Lillie was on the other side of the door, and all I could think about was how Mellie gasped beneath my lips. All I could fucking think about was how she melded with my body and my touch and let my tongue battle hers.
How she’d let me pin her to a wall and kiss her until I couldn’t breathe anymore. Until she couldn’t breathe.
All I could think about was how the line had been there, and I’d crossed it.
Last night had been an accident. Sure—I’d thought about it. What it’d be like to kiss her and whether she’d taste like the refreshers she drinks or the sugary sweetness of the powdered donuts she was so obsessed with.
I’d thought about it too much. But that didn’t mean I wanted to act on it. Shit, no, that was a lie. I wanted to act on it. I always had since the moment she turned around in the cellar and dropped the gin bottle.
I shouldn’t act on it. It was wrong. We worked together. She was my employee. I knew it was wrong, but for some fucking stupid reason, that just made me want her even more.
“Uh, Mr. Creed?” Lillie called.
I quickly sat on Mellie’s
side of the desk and adjusted my throbbing cock. “Come in.”
She tentatively opened the door and held up the phone. “He’s on hold. He keeps calling.”
“Did you tell him I’d call him back?”
“Four times. He won’t listen to me.”
The bathroom door clicked open.
I hope she’d looked in the damn mirror…
Mellie stepped out, as perfectly put together as she had been before I’d given into temptation. Her hair was smoothed back out, her lipstick reapplied, and any smudges had been wiped clean away.
“Pass it here.” She held out her hand for the phone, and Lillie passed it over. Mellie pushed one button before raising it to her ear. “Hello, Mr. Decaux?”
Moments passed.
“No, this is Melanie Rogers, the manager of the hotel. I understand you’re looking for Mr. Creed, but he’s not available right now.” She paused. “No, I can’t make him available. Mr. Creed had to leave shortly after our meeting to handle some personal business… That’s correct. He’s not here, so I have to politely ask you to stop calling my hotel and commandeering my phone lines, or I’ll call the police and report you for harassment… Mhmm… I’ll be sure to pass that on for you when I see him next. Have a lovely day, Mr. Decaux.” She hit a button on the phone, turned to Lillie, and handed it back. “Done. He won’t be bothering you anymore.” Then, she looked at me. “Call him tomorrow before we all lose our minds, okay?”
I quirked a brow. “Yes, boss.”
She shot me a withering look. Whatever wildness had taken her over before was now gone. “I’m going to get some work done.”
In other words, she was avoiding having to talk to me. “I’ll clean up the mess you made, shall I, clumsy?”
“I’ll ask Rosa to send one of the maids in. And I didn’t make it—you made me make it. I told you that already.” With that, she spun on her shiny, black heels and stalked out of the office, her tight skirt drawing my attention down to her pert ass.
God damn. What was I doing?
***
“I don’t see the problem.” Sam put my boxes of take-out Chinese in front of me. “You’re already over half of the most awkward part—seeing someone naked.”
I shook my head. “She’s my employee.”
“And you’ve done a fucking awesome job of keeping that separate so far, haven’t you?”
I flipped him the bird. Not only could neither of us cook, but we reverted to teenage boys whenever we were together. Our moms would be so proud.
“She’s a great person to be around. She’s easy to be around, to put it simply. It’s easy to forget who she is,” I admitted. “Until she fucking ignores me, then I remember again.”
“So, let me get this straight.” Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You scared her, she almost burned the place down, she yelled, you kissed her, then she went out of her way to avoid you for the rest of the working day.”
“She didn’t burn the place down, but only because the candle wasn’t lit. Otherwise, all bets are off.”
“How can one adult woman be so clumsy and not have seriously hurt herself by now?”
“Believe me,” I said, “I’ve been asking myself that question every day for the past week. “I’ve seen her in action, and she never gets injured.”
“Now you’ve said it, she’ll injure herself slicing a banana or something.”
“That’s definitely jinxed her.” I sipped from my bottle of beer just as my phone buzzed. I picked it up and opened the message.
Mellie: You never explained the new chairs.
I snorted, almost coughing on my beer. I put the bottle down and replied.
Me: You went off on a tangent and decided to ignore me after that.
Mellie: I wasn’t ignoring you.
Me: Avoiding…ignoring…semantics.
Mellie: I had a lot of work to do and when I got back to the office you’d gone. Not my fault you left.
Me: You were avoiding me.
Mellie: I wasn’t.
Me: You were.
Mellie: I wasn’t.
Me: I’m not sorry I kissed you, spitfire. If you’re fishing for an apology, you’re not going to get one.
She didn’t reply straight away. I put my phone back down and, ignoring Sam’s quizzical look, went back to my food. My cousin opened his mouth but was swiftly interrupted by the ringing of his own phone.
He pulled it from his pocket, looked at the screen, grinned at me, then headed for his room.
I shook my head, and my phone buzzed again.
Mellie: I’m not sorry you kissed me, either.
Chapter Fourteen – Mellie
Upside #14: The remote control is all mine. But that also means moving to get it, sometimes…
“This is a mess,” I said.
“So is this guy’s submission. You’d think he’d let the cuts heal before taking the photo.” Peyton turned her eleven-inch laptop around so we could see the screen.
I winced. I did not need to see anyone’s penis this early in the morning. Or at all.
“Peyt. Seriously.” Chloe grabbed the top of the screen and closed it down. “I’m trying to eat, and Mellie is in crisis.”
“Mellie’s always in crisis. It’s in her DNA. If it weren’t from this, it’ll be from the papercut she got opening the donut bag.”
I wanted to argue that, but…she was right.
The papercut really hurt, actually.
I groaned and leaned forward on the table, burying my face in my hands.
“Do you ever think we should work out more, considering the number of donuts we eat?” Peyton asked.
“Peyton,” Chloe snapped. “We just did yoga, but that’s not the point! Do you always have to be the bad cop?”
“Yes. You’re the good cop. That’s how this works. Someone needs to give tough love in this friendship.”
I groaned again.
Peyton tugged at my hair. “Mellie, it doesn’t matter. You know that. He’s your boss.”
I sat up and looked at her. “That’s reassuring.”
“Hush.” She held a finger up to her lips. “It’s just a kiss. One kiss. That’s all. It’s not like you can’t come back from that. You just go in there tomorrow, put your foot down, and tell him this isn’t happening. That it’s unprofessional, it won’t work, and it’s completely ridiculous to think that it might happen.”
I blinked at her. “I’m not that great at putting my foot down.”
“Are you kidding?” Chloe laughed. “Do you not remember when Rex Tyson tried to call you out for not putting out in senior year? You literally threw a test tube at his head and told him if he’d had a little thing called respect, you might have screwed him that weekend.”
“That’s not putting my foot down.”
“Oh! I remember that!” Peyton clapped her hands, almost dropping her pink donut in the process. “Right after, when he apologized, you told him in no uncertain terms the only thing that would be putting out that weekend was his hand when he thought about you in the shower.”
“Oh,” I muttered. “I remember that.”
“Just do it again,” Chloe continued. “You know as well as we do that work relationships don’t work.”
Peyton rolled her eyes. “From the girl in love with her business partner.”
“I am not in love with your brother!” Chloe smacked her hand against the table.
“And I’m a virgin,” I said immediately. “Work relationships don’t work. You’re right. I mean, he’s handsome and a really great guy, but he’s my boss. That’s just asking for trouble.”
My best friends both nodded in agreement.
Right. So I had to lay out the law. I’d done it once already, hadn’t I? No talking about my boobs.
I could do it again.
No kissing.
Except I didn’t regret it.
I didn’t regret kissing him when he’d grabbed hold of me. How could I? It’d been the most el
ectric kiss I’d ever had, and I’d been unable to think of anything else since. I’d been the one to put my foot in it about the kiss the night before.
What was I expecting?
An apology?
No. I knew I wouldn’t get one. You didn’t kiss a girl the way he kissed me and apologize for it, because you didn’t kiss anyone like that if you didn’t mean it.
And if you apologized for something you meant, you were an idiot.
Especially when a kiss felt the way it had.
But I could put my foot down. If he kissed me again, I knew there’d be no coming back from it. There’d be no way I’d be able to work with him.
I had to tell him that was it. That was the first and only kiss we could share. It didn’t matter that I didn’t regret it, something he knew, it just mattered that it never happened again.
Nothing good ever came from kissing your boss.
Not once, not twice, not ever.
“Put my foot down. I can do that.” I nodded.
Chloe’s phone rang, and she got up from the table to grab it from it sofa. She missed the call by seconds, but she froze, leaning toward the window on one leg. “Uhh…Does Jacob drive an Audi?”
I jerked my head up. “Yes.”
“Does he have dark hair and wear a white shirt like hookers wear thongs?”
Peyton choked on her coffee.
“Um…yes,” I answered.
“Does he have an ass like a giant, ripe peach?” Chloe continued, craning her neck.
I rubbed my nose. “I mean, I haven’t looked, but…”
“Filthy liar,” Peyton snapped.
“Yes! He has an ass like a giant, ripe peach! My God!”
Chloe grimaced, turning around to face me. “Does he show up randomly at your house?”
I jumped out of my chair. “Shut up! No!”
She pointed at the door. “There’s a hot guy who just pulled up in an Audi unexpectedly with dark hair, who wears a white shirt the way hookers wear thongs and has an ass like a giant, ripe peach.”
Three loud knocks sounded at my door.
“Oh God!” I moaned, clutching at my stomach. “I have to hide. Can you stall him?”
