Calm the fuck down, Cora.
When I sent Nick back to his desk, I jumped from task to task, unable to focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time.
Did it really matter if he was flirting with the female solicitors? It wasn’t as if we were in a committed relationship, or anything. We’d just made it clear that we were fucking. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to share me. But I hadn’t exactly made it clear I didn’t want to share either. Considering what I’d just gone through with Jack, I probably should have made sure he understood that. My foot tapped anxiously as I tried to think of a way to speak to him without anyone listening in.
When an email came through requiring evidence boxes from the archive, I saw the perfect excuse to get him alone. I wouldn’t be able to focus on work until I made my side clear as well.
I walked out of my office and approached his desk with the printed instructions in my hands. “I need you to go to the archive and collect these boxes.”
He took the paper from me and frowned at the list. “The archive?”
“It’s downstairs.”
“I’ll show him,” Penny piped up, a little too enthusiastically. She was so tiny and perfect. Everything I wasn’t. Up until today, I’d liked her. But suddenly, I couldn’t look at her without feeling threatened by her perkiness and youth. Ten years felt enormous.
Eyeing her carefully, I plastered a smile on my face. “You have more than enough work to get through, Penny. I’ll show him.”
Her smile dropped as she slumped down in her chair. Bran grinned. “Lead the way, boss.”
Heading toward the lift, I could feel him watching my arse as he stayed a step behind me. I kept my head up and focused on needing to hit the call button so I didn’t turn around and throw him a coquettish grin. Remembering his earlier promise, every surface looked like a good place to fuck.
“Hit the basement,” I told him once we were on board. It was difficult standing in a confined space with him and not recalling the last time we were in a lift, preparing to tear each other’s clothes off.
“You seem pissed,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him, mindful of the cameras watching us even though we were technically alone.
“Not pissed. Just…I don’t know what I am.”
“I’m hoping it’s turned on. Because my dick is aching for you right now.” My knees almost gave way. He said all of this with a straight face. If someone were watching the monitors, they’d have no idea what he just said, unless of course, they could read lips.
When the doors opened, I headed to the archive room, opened it with my employee key card, and pushed open the door. I didn’t speak again until I’d walked the length of the room to make sure we were alone.
“What’s this about? Are there actually files to get?” Bran asked, watching me with a careful eye. “Something is going on, isn’t it?”
“I don’t like you flirting with the girls in the office,” I blurted, crossing my arms in front of my chest protectively. “I know this is just an arrangement between us, and that I asked for it to be that way. But you said no sharing, and I want to make sure you understand that extends to you as well. No sharing—ever. That also encompasses flirting and leading other women on with that…face of yours.”
“My face?”
“Yes. I get that there are girls out there who are closer to your age and prettier than I could ever be, and if they turn your head, that’s fine. Just end this…thing between us before you start with all your smiles and meaningful looks.”
By the time I finished, he also had his arms folded, his eyes full of mirth.
I released my breath. “Great. Now you’re just going to laugh at me. I must sound like some psycho.”
Glancing around the room, he turned away from me then walked to the end of a storage row. “You coming?”
“Why?” I followed him anyway, waiting for his response while he continued to look around. “What are you doing?”
“Stand here.” He pointed to a shelving unit packed full with archive boxes.
I did as he asked even though I didn’t understand. “I’m serious, Bran. Just tell me you understand I won’t share either. Then we get the damn boxes and go upstairs.”
He stood in front of me and looked around again, before reaching over my head and pushing against the shelving like he was checking to see if he could move it.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Seeming satisfied, his hands grabbed my hips and dug in. “This,” he said, a moment before he crashed his lips against mine and kissed the absolute living shit out of me. I melted against him, my arms wrapping around his neck as his fingers worked, pulling my skirt up until it was bunched around my hips. Lifting me off the ground as if my weight was nothing to him, he pushed my panties to the side, freed himself, and plunged into me bare.
He filled me violently and I moaned at his intrusion, my mind reeling as he worked his hips back and forth, fucking me so hard that the shelving rattled. My moans echoed, each thrust causing a clang that punctuated the otherwise silent room. What the fuck was going on? How had I—a normally sensible person—managed to get myself into the situation where I was having sex in the archive room with the intern? This was crazy, beyond crazy, it was insane. Anyone could walk through that door, either searching for files or looking for us. But as he pumped into me, my body pushing against shelving and shifting boxes, I didn’t give a flying fuck. The only thing that mattered was that orgasm building inside me, my desire for it, and the man causing it.
“Oh God, Bran!” My words got lost in his palm as he clapped his hand over my mouth, quieting my moans as I came.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Someone just came in.”
My eyes went wide as I heard it too—a shuffle of a foot then words.
“I thought you said they came down here.”
“That’s what Cora said. They needed files or something.”
The second voice was Penny. The first was Adrian Sharp, the director of public prosecutions—my boss and Bran’s father. We were dead. Deader than dead. Finished.
This was a stupid decision. I never should have trusted myself to speak to him alone at work. We’re going to get caught and this is all going to be— Ohhh
Brandon started moving inside me again, painfully slow, his hand still over my mouth as his intense eyes bore into mine. I could barely focus. The fear of getting caught in the act, coupled with the act itself was undoing me. I wanted to flee, but I wanted to stay. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I wanted him to keep going.
I wanted him to keep going.
I had completely lost my mind.
My heart pounded against my ribcage as footfalls sounded at the front of the enormous room. They were looking up the aisles, the director’s voice ringing out, “Brandon?”
This was messed up. It was even more messed up that I was getting off on it.
“Maybe they left already?” Penny suggested. Followed by a scuffing sound, then footsteps receding until the door clicked open then shut.
Bran’s hips immediately picked up speed, his hand dropped from my mouth as he plunged back and forth, his pelvic bone rubbing against my clit as he drove me home once more.
This time I came without sound, my mouth open and my fingers pulling tight against his shirt. God, this man needed to start holding mandatory classes on how to be a good lover. No woman would ever have a bad day again. Archive rooms would never be safe.
With one more thrust, a quiet groan escaped his lips and he kissed me hard, spilling inside me. Once spent, he cradled the side of my face in his hand. “I am fucking one woman, and one woman only. I think about, dream of, and get hard for one woman only. As my cum runs out of your pussy today, let that be a reminder. That woman is you. Only you.” He pulled out of me and straightened my panties, tucked himself away before he pulled my skirt back down and fixed the buttons he’d managed to pop open on my blouse. “I don’t want you to question my loyalty to you
again.”
“OK,” I whispered, feeling too drunk on pheromones to do anything much more than support my own weight and nod. He was a drug. That was it. He was some new designer drug that came in the shape of a hot-as-sin man and made intelligent women senseless. It was the only way to explain what was happening. I couldn’t be held responsible.
“Glad we had this talk,” he said, pressing a brief kiss against my lips. Then he pulled the printed page from his back pocket and held it up. “I suppose we’d better get these boxes.”
“They’re um…” I was struggling to speak after…after…that. God, how to describe the workout my body just had. “They should be down here. Grab the trolley.” I pointed to the trolley against the wall, leading him to the section we needed and showing him where the boxes were.
“So, who exactly did you think I was flirting with?” he asked, stacking the boxes on the trolley, one on top of the other.
I looked at the floor, feeling silly for getting jealous just because a tiny girl was giggling over him. “Penny,” I mumbled.
“Penny?” He laughed. “I did not flirt with Penny. For the record, I don’t flirt at all. You should know that better than anyone. If I’m interested in someone, I don’t waste my time flirting. I take.”
I shrugged. “She was giggling and she’s so small and adorable.”
“Not my type.”
“Penny is everyone’s type.”
“Not mine. I like curves and flesh. I want to hear a satisfying slap when my hand collides with your arse.” A thrilling shudder rolled over me. I hated the insecurity I felt because of Jack. Bran had pursued me. He was the one who had insisted on monogamy in the first place. I was being too sensitive.
“I’m sorry. I obviously have trust issues, and I got stupid jealous. I was out of line. Especially when I’m the one putting all the restrictions on this thing.”
Finishing with the boxes, he tipped the trolley back and grinned at me. “It’s OK. I kind of like you jealous.”
My teeth pulled my lip into my mouth, biting back the smile that was too eager. He shook his head and let out his breath. “Please don’t do that when we’re being watched by cameras, because all I want to do is pull that lip out and bite it myself. And where you’re concerned, I don’t have a lot of control.” I couldn’t even begin to express how good his words made me feel. Even better, his actions backed them up.
“Something tells me we’re both having that problem.”
“It’s fun to be bad though, right?” He leaned on the trolley, bringing his face level with mine. My heart sighed at his smile. He was so damn beautiful to look at that it hurt.
Where was he eleven years ago? He could have saved me from making a terrible mistake with Jack if I’d met him sooner. No sooner than the thought entered my mind, the answer to it slapped me in the proverbial face and took my smile with it. Eleven years ago, Bran was a nine-year-old boy. What the fuck was I doing?
“Everything OK?” He narrowed his eyes, obviously noting my shift in demeanour. “If you’re worried about the absence of a condom, I’m clean, OK?”
“It’s not that—although you could have asked me first. You don’t even know if I’m on the pill.”
“I do know. I saw the packet in your bathroom.” He tapped his head. “Good memory, remember?”
“Of course.” He was only nine when I was eighteen! “Listen, um…I think it’s best if you go up there without me. Tell them I left you here alone to get a coffee or something.”
Nodding his understanding, he turned the trolley toward the door. “I’ll say I was slacking off in the loading dock if I get asked why I wasn’t in here when they came looking. My father won’t be surprised to hear that.”
“Good idea,” I said in a rush. “I’ll be up in about ten minutes.” I glanced at my watch. “Actually, you’ll be gone by then.” It was nearing three.
His expression clouded. “I suppose I will.”
I held the door open for him then turned toward the loading dock to exit. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure thing,” I heard him say as I walked away quickly. Once outside, I pressed the palms of my hands against my face, the reality of the mathematics assaulting my brain.
When I was old enough to drive, he was only seven.
When I started high school, he was a toddler.
When I started school he wasn’t even born.
What was I doing?
What was I thinking?
I was turning thirty. I was too young for a midlife crisis but it sure felt like I was having one.
I was being reckless.
I needed to stop.
16
“Do you think we can go somewhere a little quieter this time? I’m in the mood for cocktails and girl talk,” I said to Olivia at her place on Friday night. I’d promised her I’d go clubbing after the tough week she’d had at work, but after successfully dodging Bran since our tryst in the archive room on Wednesday, I really needed to unwind somewhere I didn’t think he could possibly be.
“Sure. Did you have anywhere in mind?”
Not that avoiding him had been easy. He’d turned up at my place on Wednesday night, hitting the buzzer for a good five minutes straight before he started ringing my phone. I didn’t even remember giving him my number, but like a lot of things, he seemed to get that information on his own.
Eventually, he settled for a text.
Bran: What’s going on?
I didn’t answer.
The next day, he’d tried to get me alone so we could talk. It was exhausting trying to avoid him when I was his boss, but it needed to be done. I gave him tasks that kept him busy in other departments—research with paralegals, filing with witness support. I could tell he was pissed and the text I got from him at the end of the day was proof of that.
Bran: This isn’t over
Once again, I ignored it.
Friday was a little easier because he had classes for most of the day and was only in for a couple of hours in the morning. I’d organised to have him sit in on a deposition that would keep him locked in a conference room until just before it was time for him to leave. Then I scheduled a team meeting that backed right onto that so the only time he was near me was in the company of ten junior solicitors.
Now, I was ignoring my phone and getting ready at Olivia’s to make sure I wouldn’t be home if he decided to turn up and wait me out. I didn’t know if my resolve was strong enough for another night knowing he was within my reach. I also didn’t know how I’d react if he gave up too…
Leaning forward to apply a fresh coat of mascara, I answered Olivia’s question. “I had a look online before I left work. There’s a place setup as a speakeasy. It’s hidden high in a building and they have a saxophone player and a blues band. The reviews say the cocktails are to die for.”
“I think I’ve heard of the place. It’s not my usual relaxation spot, but honey, I can pickup anywhere.” Olivia turned to me and winked, licking her bright red lips. “Oh, I cannot wait to work out this stress in some guy’s bed tonight. Preferably a brunette, I think. I haven’t been with a Greek boy in a while. And you know what they say about the Greeks?”
I shrugged. “That they like anal?”
She burst out laughing. “Well, yes, all men are obsessed with anal. But I was referring to the fact that they like to conquer.”
“Oh, I get you,” I responded, putting on a smile. The word ‘conquer’ had given me flashes of Bran and the way he conquered every part of me with such skill. My whole body sighed with longing.
It had been difficult saying no to him. My attraction to him felt like a tangible thing that could be held in my hands and examined up close. Not that it would make any sense to the human eye, because something like that could only be deciphered by the eyes of the gods.
Wearing a blue satin kimono-style cocktail dress, I sauntered into the bar on a pair of dangerously high iron-fist heels covered in butterflies and skulls. One look at the var
ious ages of the clientele had me smiling and relaxing as I dragged Olivia to the bar to get the ball rolling on our cocktail-induced buzz.
A blues band played in the corner of the room, the rhythmic beat of the snare drum causing me to bounce my hip as we waited for our drinks to be mixed.
“I think I love this place,” I said once we’d collected our drinks and found seats. “The music and atmosphere is great, and we can actually hear each other speak.”
“I admit to liking it as well. The buffet is pretty good too.” Olivia smiled her I-will-suck-your-cock-and-fuck-you-till-morning smile at a dark-haired guy at the bar. He lifted his glass to her and I wondered how long it would be before I was flying solo.
“How did your trial end up?” I asked, sipping the extremely strong but delicious cocktail.
“The jury came back within half an hour. Unanimous guilty verdict.”
“Congratulations. Another scumbag in the lockup thanks to Olivia Beecham, QC.”
She bowed her head dramatically. “I’m just doing my duty to society.”
I laughed and drank some more, relaxing into the ambience.
“Have you heard from Jack?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. A letter came to the office today. It was a confirmation of our appointments—every second Wednesday for a minimum of three months.”
“Fortnightly appointments for three months? And you were informed by letter at work?”
“I thought the time and frequency were a bit much, but he doesn’t know my new address, so it makes sense that he sent it to the office.”
“But three months’ worth of therapy? That’s ridiculous. When do you start?”
Never Again Page 12
