Under His Touch

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “You think he hid the wife in his closet?” Amber tried to make it a joke, but it came out in an irritated snap that had Kiki throwing a paperback across the room at her. “Ow!”

  “Don’t give me that. He could be one of those guys with a fuck pad designed to bag sweet young things like you while the wife and kiddies are off in a tidy suburban in New Jersey.”

  “I work with him, remember? He’s divorced. Everybody knows it.”

  “Do they? Maybe he’s still married and she’s cooling her heels in London, awaitin’ for hisself to com’ome.”

  “Was that supposed to be a Cockney accent? Because you sound like an idiot.”

  “And you’re not thinking straight.”

  “Bite me.”

  “Isn’t that Alec’s job—or is that only whipping?” Kiki shrieked with laughter when Amber winged the book back at her, missing entirely. “So touchy.”

  “Just...don’t give me shit about this, okay?”

  “For how long?” Kiki held up a hand and gave her a serious look. “I mean it. I’ll cut you the slack to work this out of your system, but it’s my job as your friend to yank you back from the abyss.”

  That gave her an odd chill. “The abyss? Of what? A smidge dramatic there.”

  “You know what I mean. This is totally unlike you to be so gone over a guy. You’re in deep, really fast.”

  “Funny. Here I thought I haven’t even seen him all week.”

  “And yet you have your bag packed to spend the weekend with him.”

  Amber leveled a cold glare on her friend, to cover the flash of embarrassment. So she’d been picking out things to wear. Sue her. “Is spying on me part of your job, too?”

  “Oh, you mean I shouldn’t have noticed your overnight bag on the bed and sex outfits strewn around the room? My bad.”

  “What are you saying, Kiki?”

  “Nothing. I’ve said it. Go work this out of your system. But...”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Remember that’s what this is. Sex. Something you wanted to explore and you know I support that. But this thing with your boss can’t go anywhere. Sneaking around isn’t a basis for a healthy relationship. The power imbalance alone is seriously problematic.”

  “It bothers you that he’s older.”

  “A lot of things bother me. Think past the kink!” She snorted at herself. “I’m going to paste that to the fridge as a reminder. Good tagline.”

  “Stupid tagline. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to mean.”

  “It means that you should think about who you are together out of the bedroom. I’d say this even if you didn’t have the master/slave thing going—”

  “It’s not like that,” Amber interrupted.

  “And,” Kiki talked over her, “if you didn’t have the age difference thing, plus the work thing, you, my friend, are obsessed with this guy. Tread carefully.”

  The accusation pissed her off, which meant she needed to think about it. “I don’t think I’m obsessed.”

  “Obsessed people never do.” Kiki nodded wisely.

  “Is that even a thing? That’s not true.”

  “Okay.” Kiki snorted. Got up and hugged her. “It sounded good. I have to go in early tomorrow for a breakfast meet, so I won’t see you. Promise you’ll still check in?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By Friday noon, she began to feel nervous about having worn the outfit. The one he’d specified—the pencil skirt suit and the pink ruffled blouse—for that night. But then, they hadn’t spoken all week. She’d barely glimpsed Alec in passing, which had to be deliberate. Lily kept her busy with new responsibilities and she liked the work. Still, she’d feel better if Alec had given some indication of continued interest. That he expected her to come over that evening. What if she showed up at his door and he gave her that look of bland distaste he assumed when someone screwed up a task?

  The power imbalance alone is seriously problematic.

  Whether Kiki had intended it or not with her little come-to-Jesus lecture, she’d instilled some doubts, sapped Amber’s confidence. Alec had been pretty clear about keeping it all on the QT until they figured out if they’d burn out fast or not. What if he’d decided they already had—would he tell her? Or was the total lack of communication him telling her?

  And since when did she let herself angst over a guy this way?

  Oh yeah, since Alexander Knight gave her that look.

  You, my friend, are obsessed with this guy. Tread carefully.

  She felt pissed enough to storm into Alec’s office and demand to know where she stood, if she also didn’t feel perilously close to weeping—something she had little success controlling, particularly if she had anger mixed in. She’d thought she’d been a mess last Friday afternoon. Over the course of an intensely sexual weekend and a workweek of uncertainty and insecurity, she’d transcended to an entire new level of fucked-up.

  Just fabulous.

  “You okay?” Lily stopped by her desk, tipping her glasses down her nose to frown at her. “I know it’s against the rules to tell another woman she looks tired, but...”

  Amber laughed. “Just a long week.” She waved at the computer screen. “Steep learning curve.”

  “You’re doing great. Why don’t you go home early? You’ve earned a reprieve. I’ll get someone else to do the notes for the partners’ meeting.”

  “No, that’s okay. I kind of like that job.”

  “Smart of you. I know some of the junior staff consider it drudge work and I’m aware they’re happy enough to pawn it off on you.”

  “True. I get a lot of good insights into how you all see things. I learn a lot from just listening.”

  “That’s why you’re going places.”

  Okay, Amber told herself as she headed for the fishbowl a little before four. No big deal. You’ve worn this outfit any number of times. It means nothing. Get a grip.

  She situated herself in her usual spot, busying herself with setting up the laptop. Hai Lin and Lily came in, deep in conversation, saying hello in an offhanded way. Bill greeted her more enthusiastically, asking how she liked her new responsibilities. Because she was answering him, Alec slipped in without having to acknowledge her presence, his gaze passing over her with cool disinterest. He chose a different chair than usual—one with his back to her, the lines of his shoulders relaxed under the crisp lines of his suit. She didn’t realize she was scowling at him until she caught Lily watching her from across the big conference table with a concerned look.

  She rubbed her temple, pretending to a headache, which seemed to satisfy her new boss.

  So far, the getting-a-grip thing wasn’t going all that well.

  Fortunately the meeting got started and she focused on getting everything down. They had a number of new clients to discuss, a charity event the firm had been asked to sponsor, the vacancy on Alec’s team to fill. Everyone seemed to be in the mode of finishing out the week and getting home, so discussions went fast and no one suggested cocktails after, to her immense relief.

  Short-lived relief, as Alec left so fast she missed his departure while she was looking at the screen.

  Back at her desk—at least she’d escaped a cube—she waffled. She no longer ordered his car, so she didn’t know if he’d left completely or not. Go by his office? Go home?

  “See you Monday, Amber,” Lily called out, sunglasses on and bag slung over her shoulder as she locked up her office. “And please, go home already!”

  She tried not to take that as an omen. Needing a better one, she carried her water bottle to the other side of the floor, filling at the dispenser there and using the excuse of proximity to walk past Alec’s office for t
he first time all week. Closed up and dark. Well shit.

  What she wanted most to do was call Kiki for advice. Except she knew exactly what Kiki would say—that she was being stupid and you don’t show up on a guy’s doorstep unless you know you’re wanted. Particularly not with your overnight bag. She should go home. Go do happy hour with Kiki somewhere.

  And the dreary prospect of those options decided her. There was only one thing she really wanted to do, bad idea or not.

  Weird, though, to take the subway to his far-classier neighborhood and walk the few blocks to his building on the Upper East Side, carrying her laptop bag on one shoulder and her overnight on the other. The white-gloved doorman gave her an icy once-over, and it hit her that he wouldn’t know her. A different one had been on duty the week before. When she’d been naked under Alec’s coat—a memory that added heat to the flush of embarrassment of having to beg admittance.

  “Can I help you, miss?” He asked, subtly positioning himself between her and the entrance.

  “I, ah, am here to see Alexander Knight.” Please let him have called down that he expected me.

  “Is he expecting you, Miss...?”

  No such luck. “Dolors. Amber Dolors.”

  A woman stepped out of a cab, elegant in designer silk and dripping with jewels. She cast a look at Amber that left her feeling absurdly scruffy, and swept past the doorman, who tipped his cap and bowed slightly at her passage.

  He turned his attention back to Amber, friendly smile fading. “I’ll call up to Mr. Knight’s.”

  At least he let her step inside the lobby, but kept his eye on her as if she might try to sneak past him. This was a bad idea. One that grew worse by the moment as time slowed to an agonizing pace and Alec didn’t answer. Not home. Or avoiding her.

  “Sorry, Miss Dolors—it seems he’s not in.” The man gestured to the street, and took a step to usher her out again. Swept out like unwanted refuse.

  She should have called first. Could have, with his number still in her phone, but she felt like she shouldn’t. Drawing up her dignity, she thanked the man and walked ahead of him out the doors.

  And nearly crashed into Alec coming in.

  “Amber!” He rocked back on his heels, seeming surprised to see her. He wore the same suit he’d had on at the partners’ meeting, as crisp as if he’d just put it on. A dark and brooding look in his eye.

  “The young lady came to visit, Mr. Knight.” The doorman made the obvious information sound like an offer to get rid of her.

  “Of course, I should have thought to notify you that she might. Apologies, Sean.” He gave her a funny half smile that faded as he took in her expression. “Care to come up then?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. To storm out maybe. Or suddenly remember another appointment. Apparently that, too, showed on her face, because he stroked a hand down her arm and decided her by leading her to the elevators. Not quite a demanding grip, but close. “At least for a drink, since you’re here.”

  Not exactly what she wanted to hear. They rode up in awkward silence, as two other people entered the elevator also. When the others exited, Alec impatiently pressed the doors closed, sliding her an apologetic look. “I didn’t expect you so early.”

  “When exactly did you expect me?” It came out meaner than she’d intended, a product of too much bottled-up emotion. Pissed, embarrassed, stupidly hurt—a lethal combo for her. When the doors opened, she didn’t move, staring fiercely at the panel of buttons, willing herself not to cry.

  Alec put a hand on the doors to keep them from closing, assessing her. “Coming in?”

  “I kind of think I should go.” A tear spilled over and she dashed it away with the back of her hand, wishing he hadn’t seen it. “It’s been a long week.”

  He smiled, rueful, and held out a hand. “Come in for a glass of wine at least. I clearly made a muddle of things.”

  Okay, fine. She’d just look more stupid if she left. But she didn’t take his hand, partly because she needed hers to get rid of any more escapee tears, and stalked past him after he unlocked his door, then paused, uncertain what to do with her things.

  “What’s this?” he asked, taking her overnight bag and weighing it with a quizzical lift of his brows. Trying to keep the tone light.

  “In case I stayed overnight.” She grabbed it back and dumped it on the floor, setting the laptop bag next to it, staged for the possibility of a quick exit, and made herself meet his gaze evenly. “Just a precaution. So you wouldn’t have to buy me more expensive hairbrushes.”

  “I see. It’s a lovely evening,” he said after a pause, giving up the teasing tone. “Why don’t you go sit on the terrace and I’ll bring out some wine.” And collect yourself, he didn’t have to say out loud.

  A welcome reprieve, probably for them both. She went without another word and let herself out. Too restless to sit, she shrugged out of her jacket, tossed it on the table and went to lean on the rail, studying the glitter of fading light on the buildings, the green shimmer of Central Park. Abandoned trying to think it all through and just zoned for a few minutes.

  Alec joined her, tieless now but still wearing the deep gray vest over his white shirt, and handed her a very full glass of white wine.

  “Cheers.” He clinked his equally full one to hers and sipped, watching her over the rim with that same assessing expression. A shadow behind it. The silence stretched on. Probably her turn to say something. Preferably something calm and sane, but he beat her to it. “You asked when I expected you—honestly, I didn’t know whether to expect you at all. I’d rather convinced myself you wouldn’t show.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d had done with me.”

  “I wore the outfit,” she pointed out and he winced, his gaze dragging over the blouse with heat before he turned his attention to the view.

  “I know. I saw. You look—” he searched for the word out in the skyscrapers, “—lovely.” The evening, her—his standard fallback description. And not what he’d been thinking before he changed it. Something hungrier, given his tone.

  “Really? I don’t see how as you didn’t look at me during the partners’ meeting. Not once.”

  “I can’t,” he snapped, eyes flashing to hers, staring her down, the haunted shadows in his gaze smoking into flame. “Sometimes I could swear I smell you and I get hard, start thinking about dragging you into the nearest closet. You think I don’t see you? I make excuses to myself to pass by your desk—just close enough to catch a glimpse. When I saw you’d worn that blouse today, I nearly lost my mind. I actually began imagining excuses to ask you into my office and working the logistics of what I could do to you with no one seeing. In the partners’ meeting, I’m thinking not about the numbers but pivoting my chair and telling you to strip, right there.

  “It’s either tell myself you’re not in the bloody building or go insane trying to keep my fucking hands off you.” He dropped his head and stared down at the long drop. “And now I’ve hurt you, which I didn’t intend.”

  She sipped her wine, cold and delicately floral, probably outrageously expensive. Nothing compared to the mind-swirling desire his words evoked. He always looked so cool, she’d never guessed at his thoughts or that they continued to torment him so. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I got all worked up, feeling insecure, and Kiki...whatever.”

  “What about Kiki?”

  “I really don’t want to get into that.”

  “Thinks I’m not good for you, does she?”

  “She doesn’t know you, does she?”

  “An excellent point.” He stared out at the city, thinking, the fire contained but burning. Brooding. Thunderclouds gathering. Dark Alec.

  “So what now?” Tell me to strip, Ale
c.

  He glanced at her. Away again. Face and voice in that carefully neutral mode. “What would you prefer to do? If you want to go, I understand. Maybe you should. That’s part of why I stayed away this evening. Part of me hoped you’d find me gone and leave again.”

  “Why?” Her mouth had gone dry with dread. But he’d said he wanted her. In devastating, erotic detail.

  His lips curved in that cruel ironic smile and he turned to face her, leaning an elbow on the rail. Not relaxed, though. Coiled. “Perhaps the monster always hopes, somewhere in its twisted heart, that its prey will escape.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “No. But I think you should want to.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want me anymore?”

  “How can you ask that?” he demanded, sounding strained, the temper rising again. Dark Alec seething close to the skin.

  “You run hot and cold on me, Alec! You say you can’t look at me at the office, for wanting to touch me, that you think of ways to be with me, and here we’re alone and you’re still not looking at me or touching me and—”

  She broke off when he took the wineglass from her and threw it against the wall, following it with his, so both shattered, along with her nerves. He turned on her with a hard, nearly angry look that made her step back. Eyes locked on hers, he took advantage of the momentum, pushing her back and crowding her into a shadowed corner under the overhang, behind a fake potted palm. When her back bumped against the wall, it startled her and she squeaked. It seemed to send him over the edge because he curled his fingers in the front of her silk blouse, set his jaw, and ripped it open, buttons flying. Her breasts, encased in the pink lace bra, were exposed to his ravenous gaze.

  “I’m looking,” he grated out. He seized her wrists and stretched them over her head, pinning them there with one hand and using the other to flick open the front clasp of the bra. Cupping her naked breast, he squeezed, tight, and she writhed under the grip. “I’m touching.” He leaned in hard, his erection pressing against her belly, the brick wall grating against her back through the silk. “Now tell me to stop.”