Love On My Mind

by Tracey Livesay

  “Okay,” she responded, unsure of his intention.

  His finger dipped an inch beneath the waistband of her pants and trailed back and forth against her skin. She trembled.

  “If one isn’t careful, one can act on flawed knowledge.”

  “Uh-­huh,” she said, with all the coherence she could manage.

  He licked his bottom lip. “The last thing I want is another misunderstanding similar to the oil and T-­shirt situations.”

  She nodded, her body as tight as a flexed bow.

  “So let me be clear,” he whispered. “I want to kiss you.”

  She swallowed.

  “Not only am I informing you of what I want, it also serves as notice of my intent. I’m going to kiss you.”

  It was the sexiest notice she’d ever received.

  “If you don’t want that to happen, tell me to stop or move away.”

  His hands continually grabbed and released her hips. Moisture pooled between her thighs, her body sensitive to his touch and the images his words were forming in her mind. Her nipples hardened against her thin sweater and his flaring nostrils told her he’d noticed her reaction.

  “Time’s up.”

  His mouth covered hers and he kissed her with a mastery that left her breathless. His lips were firm and her knees went weak when his tongue swept inside and tangled with hers. She held on to him, stunned by the strength of her reaction. God, he was an excellent kisser. He was passionate and commanding, nothing like she expected. And he smelled so good . . . like soap and fresh laundry, mixed with her body oil and . . . him. Adam. His kiss, his scent, his touch—­the combination made her dizzy and she leaned into him. He held her tightly to his chest and the hardness pressed against her breasts, abrading her aching tips. She wasn’t sure how long they kissed, but she needed more.

  She shifted her weight onto the table and turned, forcing him to lie back on it. She straddled his hips and pressed her aching femininity against the rock hardness of his cock. She cradled it, rubbing her body against it. She wanted this man at this minute more than she’d wanted anyone. Ever.

  He massaged her breasts, his thumb and forefinger plucking her nipples, sending arrows of pleasure straight to her core. She moaned and arched into his palm. Their breathing was harsh as they groaned and writhed against each other. She felt him at the button of her pants and she lifted her hips to make his access easier.

  His fingers slid in and then under the waistband of her panties to twirl in the crispness of her hair. She shivered as his lips left her mouth and trailed down her jaw to her neck, licking and nibbling at the pulse there. The softness of his beard swept against her sensitive spot and she moaned again, holding his head to her, not feeling that it was possible to get close enough. She was on fire, sensation flowing through her blood. Her brain had shut down, leaving her body in charge, and it wanted to feel.

  In this moment, she didn’t care that her goal of partnership might be in jeopardy, that she found him demanding, or that she was lying to him. She just wanted to keep kissing him.

  She shifted and the table almost collapsed.

  Adam’s shoulders tensed beneath her fingers and they broke apart, breathing heavily. He clasped an arm around her hips and, shaken, she looked over the side of the table. She clutched hold tighter and when she looked back at him, their gazes locked. She could see the haze of lust that clouded his normally clear gaze. Unable to help herself, she brushed her lips against his. Once, twice. Their lips clung. She couldn’t stop kissing him.

  The table shifted again and common sense intruded. Reluctantly, she inched off him, untwisting their arms and legs and climbing backward off the table. Adam sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table. Reaching down to adjust the thick evidence of his arousal, he reached out a hand to her, his intent clear in the direct heat of his eyes.

  She wanted to go to him. She wanted to take his hand and let him draw her into his embrace again. She pressed the heels of her palms against her closed eyes and mentally pressed the Rewind arrow on the cosmic DVR remote. She pictured the table re-­steadying itself, Adam lying back down, and her climbing back on top of him, re-­twining their limbs. Then she’d press Play and lose herself in his frenzied embrace.

  She exhaled and dropped her hands. She couldn’t. Dammit. Life wasn’t a movie she could direct. And even if it were, becoming sexually involved with Adam would be a mistake. She wanted to be a partner. She’d worked her entire adult life toward that one goal. It wasn’t about the money. She already made a great living. It was what the job represented. It meant that she, Chelsea Grant, was not like her mother. She would never be poor, used, and disgraced. That she couldn’t be defined by the circumstances of her birth. She wasn’t on the outside. She was the ultimate insider. ­People needed her to make them acceptable. And making partner meant she was one of the best at it.

  Then there was the lie that hovered between them. It had seemed harmless in the beginning. It hadn’t mattered who’d hired her—­him or Computronix. The job was the same: get the client ready for the launch. Now, knowing the absolutist position he held on any falsehood, hiding the truth from him was beginning to bother her, a sliver of censure beneath the surface of her skin.

  All of these conflicting emotions swirling around in her head were enough to tamp down the desire that had torn through her body, leaving a guilty conscience in the cold light of day.

  He stared into her eyes, the passion from a minute ago still blazing bright in his. He captured her hand, but when he tried to pull her to him, she resisted, standing her ground. He was more than strong enough to pull her to him, but he hesitated, his eyes waiting to see what she’d decided.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “Me, too.”

  Knowing that he accepted her decision and wouldn’t push her, she moved closer to him and leaned her forehead against his. “It’s too much. As good as you feel, as good as this feels”—­she stroked her hands up and down his arms—­“you’re my client now, and I’ve always believed it was a bad idea to mix those relationships.”

  “Then you’re fired.”

  She pulled back and stared at him, her stomach contorting into knots, only to straighten and calm down when she saw his lips quirk at the corners.

  “Another joke, Mr. Bennett? You can’t fire me, I’m having an effect on you.”

  “You most definitely are,” he said, his voice smooth as warm maple syrup. “Want to feel?”

  Not about to take that bait, she leaned in and gave him one final kiss before grabbing her purse and rushing out. She couldn’t risk allowing that wonderful feeling of lethargy to steal her common sense and convince her to change her mind.

  Chapter Ten

  LETTING HER GO without pressing the issue was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  Even now, hours after she’d left, he stared unseeingly at his computer screen, recalling in minute detail every sigh, every moan, every caress. Before her, every other kiss had been a waste of breath. It seemed God had been on a sabbatical when he’d asked for the strength to keep his focus on his work and his hands off of Chelsea. Anytime he was in her presence, he was touching her.

  In his closet.

  At the store.

  Here, in his great room.

  Though he couldn’t be blamed for today. No man could’ve resisted after thirty minutes of her hands roaming all over his body. Or of deciding between the twin tortures of glancing up and seeing her breasts suspended over him, so close he could flick her fabric-­covered nipples with his tongue, or closing his eyes and drowning in the heightened sensation of her touch. In fact, if she hadn’t resisted, he would’ve carried her to his room and fucked her until they both passed out from exhaustion.

  But then what? Once he’d taken the edge off his hunger for her, he’d still need her help with the presentation, and she�
�d told him she preferred not to mix business with pleasure. Even if he’d managed to leap that hurdle, he’d find himself in a situation where he was spending a lot of time with a woman, both in his bed and out of it, thereby granting her an intimacy he vowed to never again offer. Awareness and familiarity followed intimacy, and it wouldn’t be long before she left.

  Like everyone else.

  So he should keep his distance, sexually, at least until the presentation was over. Sounded easy, except he recognized his burgeoning fascination and knew he’d have a difficult time staying away from her.

  He sat up and rolled closer to his desk. Clicking on the appropriate icon, he pushed several keys on his computer. The center monitor blacked out and five seconds later, Mike’s image filled the screen.

  “How’s it going?” Mike asked, his voice low and raspy. Several Starbucks cups littered his desk and he’d removed his jacket and tie.

  “Good. The video testimonials from the beta testers of the new phone look phenomenal. A/V did an exceptional job.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll make a note to pass along your praise.” He tapped on his iPad. “And the presentation?”

  Adam sighed. “You know this launch is important to me. If you believe my being involved in the presentation is the HPC’s best shot, then I’ll do what’s necessary.”

  Even try to stay away from the one woman he wanted more than anyone else.

  Mike pushed back from his desk, waving his arms wildly. “I can’t believe it. This isn’t the Adam I know. What happened to you?”

  I met a tall, gorgeous woman with smooth, dark skin and the softest curls I’ve ever touched.

  Mike didn’t wait for his response. “You won’t regret doing this.” He consulted his iPad. “I have the perfect person to help you—­”

  “No. I’ll do it on my own.”

  He would not be dealing with another PR firm after the last one. The overly cheerful, too familiar representative had made his skin crawl. Besides, he had Chelsea.

  Mike frowned. “Come on, Adam. There are ­people who specialize in public relations and we can get them to help you.”

  “Don’t push me on this.”

  “Fine. But you have to do a better job than the press conference. We’re all depending on you.”

  Adam was aware of his obligations. The company was depending on him. ­People whose salaries they paid, their benefits and retirement. All were betting on the HPC being the success Adam knew it would be. He owed it to them to focus his considerable intellect on the presentation and not the lovely woman who had been dominating his thoughts.

  That’s why he was surprised when he heard himself say, “Remember my neighbor?”

  “What?”

  “My neighbor. The one I met during the storm last week?”

  “Right. The ‘agreeable’ one,” Mike said, laughing.

  “She works in entertainment.”

  Mike cocked his head to the side. “You’ve spent time with her?”

  “Some.” Not enough.

  “In the middle of prepping for the launch? That’s . . . unprecedented.”

  “I can’t seem to stop thinking about her.”

  Mike frowned. “We don’t have time for you to think about her.”

  “I’m well aware of our timetable, Mike. How can I forget when you bring it up every fucking day?” He shoved his hand through his hair.

  “Sorry,” his friend said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Have you told her?”

  He didn’t attempt to feign ignorance. “That I have Asperger’s? No.”

  He wasn’t sure if he ever planned to tell her.

  “In the time you’ve spent together, she hasn’t noticed your literalness, your difficulty deciphering social cues, and your rigid adherence to routines?”

  “They’ve manifested, but she attributes them to my being an asshole.”

  Mike laughed. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

  “Neither is being a charming bastard,” he said, confident enough in his friendship with Mike to engage in this conversation.

  They’d met in college, when Mike worked at the local video game store. It took several visits and quite a few stilted conversations, where they learned they were both attending Stanford, before they’d managed to become friends. The bonds of that tentative friendship were strengthened during an awkward Christmas dinner with Mike’s family when Adam finally had to explain his behavior. Adam knew that being his friend wasn’t easy, but over the years Mike had proven his trustworthiness and his loyalty.

  And speaking of trustworthiness and loyalty . . .

  “Telling Birgitta was the beginning of the end of our relationship,” he said.

  “Relationship? I thought you’d just met. Now you’re talking a relationship?”

  “There’s something about her. She gets me, and gets to me, in a way I’ve never experienced.”

  “So this is more than a ‘hit it and quit it’ scenario?” Mike asked, using Jonathan’s term of choice for a one-­night stand.

  “It’s a strong possibility.”

  Mike thumbed his ear. “Maybe you should wait until the launch is over. Not just for Computronix’s benefit, but for yours. You’ll have more time to weigh the pros and cons of getting involved with her.”

  “That’s what I decided, except—­”

  “That other wonderful Aspie trait of yours, single-­minded fixation. Fuck, man, your timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “Again, something I already know.”

  “This could backfire against you. Big-­time.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything distract me from the product launch.”

  “Suddenly, it’s not the launch I’m worried about.”

  ADAM OPENED HIS front door and came face to back with Chelsea’s enticing rear. She spun around and her curls tumbled over her shoulder.

  “It’s about time. We have to . . .” Her gaze wandered from the base of his neck to his bare feet. “I’ve seen your closet, and this ensemble,” she said, gesturing to his sweatpants and faded Stanford University T-­shirt, “would be considered too scruffy even for your wardrobe.”

  She brushed past him and her scent tickled his nose. He smiled and closed the door in her wake.

  This was going to be fun.

  Chelsea stood before him in a white button-­down shirt, brown pants that molded to her legs, and high-­heeled ankle boots that created the optical illusion of unbelievable length. She looked glamorous, professional, untouchable. Gone was the woman with soft, parted lips, who’d gazed deeply into his eyes and trembled in his arms.

  But that’s the Chelsea he wanted.

  And that’s the Chelsea he’d have.

  It had come to him during the night, when he should’ve been working. His attraction to Chelsea had been quick and intense, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. And when that happened, didn’t he owe it to himself to figure out what was going on? It’s possible it could have been exacerbated by the storm and the intimacy of their surroundings, but he wouldn’t be able to focus on his presentation until he knew the answer. Achieving his goal wouldn’t be easy, but he’d never allowed a problem’s level of difficulty to prevent his attempts to solve it. She’d expressed her reluctance to combine work and play. In order to test his theory, he needed her to see that playing with him could be pleasurable and not affect their work. Then he could determine if what they were responding to was based in the isolation of their circumstances or on an actual connection.

  “Hello? Adam?” She waved her hand, palm side out, in a vertical motion. “You can’t stay in your own world, you have a guest. That’s what we’re working on today. Lesson Three, engagement.”

  He narrowed his eyes. Did she believe they could return to the status quo of two days ago? Before they’d kissed?
Before he’d jerked off to the remembered sounds of her moaning in his arms? That was no longer a viable option for him. He grabbed her wrist. “I’m well aware of your presence, Chelsea. And I’m prepared.”

  Her glossed lips parted and her pulse fluttered against his hand. He smiled. Further evidence the desire that soared through him was reciprocated.

  “Then why are you dressed like this?” she asked, pulling from his grasp. “We’re supposed to head down into the city. What should I infer from this outfit?”

  “That I have no plans to leave the house. It’s hump day and I’m playing hooky.”

  “You can’t play hooky. You have to prepare for the launch.”

  “I managed to complete a great deal during your two-­day absence. I’m due for a break.”

  She looked away from him and shoved her hands in her back pockets. “I wish you would’ve told me that before I came over. I wouldn’t have disturbed you.”

  “You aren’t disturbing me. I’ve been waiting for you. I have something planned for us.”

  She leaned away from him. “We talked about this. I can’t get involved with you.”

  “I wasn’t referring to sex, although I’m not averse to it.” He smiled. “I’m talking about enjoyable, non-­sexual fun.”

  He headed up the stairs and his tension dissipated at the click of her heels when she followed him. He retrieved the bag from the counter and held it out to her.

  “What’s that?”

  “A gift for you. I couldn’t expect you to participate if I didn’t provide you with the proper gear.”

  She held up her hands, palms facing out. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  He cupped her cheek with his left hand and stared into her eyes. Her curls brushed softly against his fingertips. “I’m not asking you to engage in an afternoon orgy. Trust me.”

  Her agreement didn’t come instantaneously. She pulled in a deep breath and released it in a long, steady stream. Pressing her lips together, she snatched the bag from him and closed the guest bedroom door behind her.

  He put his hands on his hips and lifted his gaze skyward. He’d been correct—­this wouldn’t be easy. But it’d be worth it.