My stomach turns. I am used to this feeling with Jack. In the first six months we worked together, I wasn’t so adept at dealing with his vivid love life. I blushed whenever I found evidence of his nocturnal activities, I couldn’t always meet his eye. But now? Well, now, I’ve had two years to practice acceptance. I smile blandly. “Well—” I shrug as though my heart’s not racing and my nipples aren’t throbbing. “Have a good night.”
“Wait.” His words are commanding, but so too is the hand he clamps around my wrist.
I jerk my face towards his, breath exploding out of me. We don’t touch. Not more than an accidental brush of fingers from time to time. That’s impossible to avoid when you’re together as often as we are.
Definitely not this.
His thumb pads across my inner-wrist, and when I don’t say anything, he pulls me, hard and fast, so that my body rams into his. We are surrounded and yet we are alone. There is a void that engulfs us. Like a sensual electric fence.
This is all new, and all wrong. And so right.
His body is tight. Hard. Hot. Just as it is in all my fantasies. It takes every single ounce of my will-power to close my mouth and let my breath return to normal. To look at him as though he’s lost his mind, not made me lose mine. “Yes, sir?”
His eyes flare. I mean it to put him back on his guard, to remind him of the boundaries of our relationship, but I might as well have struck a match over gasoline. He doesn’t let me go.
“Dance with me.”
The air around us is charged with expectation and I just know he’s asking for more than a dance. Does he expect me to say no? I don’t like living up to expectations and I’m not going to give him a reason to think I’m afraid of what’s going on between us. “Fine.” My smile is tight. It stretches over my face like sunburn.
He expels a breath, long and slow, and places a hand in the small of my back. No, just on the very top of my arse. His fingers are splayed wide and they press into me firmly, so that I’m propelled towards him. His other hand links with my fingers, wrapping through them.
I focus on the band, my eyes taking in the details of their appearance while I concentrate on looking completely calm. I’m not, though. I’m weak when I want to be strong, and I need something I shouldn’t.
“This dress is sensational,” he says, immediately shattering my attempts to find calm.
“Is that your informed fashion opinion?” Too tart. I soften the snap with a smile. It’s a mistake. His eyes are mocking, his own smile sardonic.
I look away again immediately.
“It’s my informed opinion as a red-blooded male.”
“What do you like about it?” Warning lights are flashing in my mind, clamouring for attention. They are bright and angry. What am I doing?
“Let me see,” he murmurs. “The colour. The way it’s literally glued to your skin.” He drops his head closer and heat spirals inside me; my blood is a vapour of steam in my veins.
This isn’t right. It’s not us. He sleeps with other women, and sure, he flirts the heck out of me, but that’s harmless.
This doesn’t feel so harmless.
The music slows and I slow with it, putting some space between us with what I tell myself is relief.
“Get me up to speed on the New York situation.”
“I intend to.” I am snappy because I’m uncertain. I’m completely wrong-footed by his nearness, his touch, and my own desire for him is swamping me. I need a minute to regroup but his fingers are giving me no time. They’re throbbing across my spine, my arse, and I am heating up by the second.
“Tonight. Now.”
I angle my head towards Wolf unconsciously. He’s still locked in conversation. I have no intention of going home with him, and yet I resent the implication of Jack’s that I don’t have a life of my own.
“It’s not urgent.” The words are stiff. “It’ll keep ‘til tomorrow.” And I pull completely free of Jack’s grip—it’s the equivalent of grabbing a lifeline from the side of a sinking boat. It’s slippery and I’m pretty sure I’m not strong enough to hold on to it for long enough to save myself. Drowning is inevitable.
“I’m telling you I want to hear about it tonight.” It’s a challenge. A gauntlet. He gives me a lot of latitude in my job because he knows how much I do. And I do it well. But, at the end of the day, he’s my boss and I don’t know if anything is served by refusing him this request.
“Fine,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. But I’m not going to let him think he’s won. “I just need…twenty minutes.” I disconnect myself from him, and try not to register how my body screams in frustration.
I saunter off towards Wolf before I can see if Jack’s reacting in the same way.
Wolf is deep in conversation when I approach. “May I have a moment?” I look with a hint of apology towards the men he’s with.
“Sure.” He grins at me. A nice grin. He really is good to look at. Not ground-breaking, earth-shattering, but nice.
He puts a hand on my elbow but I am leading him, walking quickly out of the ballroom, seeking privacy for no reason other than to give Jack a taste of his own damned medicine. That, and to send a loud and clear message. He doesn’t control every part of me.
“All good for later?”
“Wolf…” I smile. “No, it’s not. I have to work tonight, actually. I’m going to brief Jack on the software situation.”
“Tonight?” He arches a brow, rich with disbelief.
“He micro-manages everything,” I explain. It’s true. “And he’s impatient as hell. I just wanted to make sure I have all the information.”
He nods, almost hiding his disappointment. “Let’s recap.”
And that’s how I spend the nineteen minutes I have left. Well, eighteen. I allow myself just one minute to pull a bit of my hair loose from its bun, and to pinch my cheeks, making them appear flushed by pleasure.
Jack is waiting for me in the limousine, twenty-five minutes after I left him. I imitate breathlessness as I step inside, and enjoy the way his eyes sweep over me with undisguised speculation.
“Ready?”
It’s not what I expected. I nod, but as I do, I feel like maybe I’m agreeing to something I don’t realise. Like there’s a hidden meaning I don’t yet know. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
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Copyright ©2018 by Clare Connelly
ISBN-13: 978-1-488-09617-4
Going All the Way
Copyright © 2003 by Karen Drogin
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Going all the Way Page 20
