“No, I want to know you better.” His voice was calm and soothing. Malcolm sighed. “I’m gonna take a stab at this. It’s only a guess, but I’d say you’re upset about your father. Am I right?”
Nice to know my daddy issues were so fucking obvious.
“No.” I refused to look at him. “I forgot about a paper I have to work on so I’m outta here. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
Before Malcolm could object, I grabbed my clothes and sprinted out the door. He had the whole floor to himself, so no one would see my bare ass while I got dressed in front of the elevator. And in this mood, I wouldn’t give a damn if I gave all his neighbors a free show.
Tears spilled down my face, and I wiped them away. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall. My eyes were red-rimmed, and my face had gone even paler.
What’s wrong with you? I sneered at my reflection. God, you’re pathetic—crying because your daddy doesn’t love you. You don’t need anyone. Grow the hell up.
“Kate, wait.” Malcolm caught up with me before the doors opened. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I don’t want you to leave.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, mostly to keep from running into his arms. The temptation to accept his comfort was overwhelming.
“Fine. Do you want to play?”
He thought a moment. “No, but I’ll make some dinner, and then we can talk about something else—you pick the topic. Deal?”
Malcolm held out his hand to me— all I had to do was take it.
I could get in the elevator and never look back. Making a clean break now would reduce the future agony headed my way. Malcolm and I had a short shelf life—sooner or later, it’d end, and I’d be a mess.
But not tonight. I couldn’t bring myself to walk away just yet.
I took his hand. “Deal.”
Chapter Ten
Kate
Last night, after Malcolm made us a ham and cheese omelet, I found myself lying face-down on his bed, on top of a large, soft blanket he’d spread out. True to his word, Malcolm hadn’t pressured me into confiding in him. Instead, we’d talked about work and had a relaxed evening.
Then he’d offered to give me a hot stone massage.
Malcolm was on his knees beside me, slathering heated jasmine oil into my back and shoulders. His fingers were firm but gentle, and I savored his caress.
“Where’d you learn how to do this?”
He shrugged. “I took a class. Stress contributes to a lot of diseases—cancer, heart attacks, so I learned how to reduce tension. Sometimes I take a hot shower and place the stones on my chest afterward. Now, I want you to close your eyes, relax, and let yourself go.”
The stones were black and shiny, wet from the heated water. He grabbed two of them, holding them in his palms to cool slightly, and then rubbed the smooth surface up and down the line of my body.
God, this felt so good. I’d say it was even better than an orgasm.
He did it with each successive pair of stones, running them along with my body then placing them along the length of my spine.
The tension leaked from my muscles, and my eyes drifted closed. And I was trying hard not to fall asleep.
Soon, I stopped fighting it and drifted off.
When I woke hours later, he was curled around me. Malcolm had tugged a blanket over both of us. His body was big, and I felt protected in his embrace like nothing bad could ever happen to me.
I was the only person I could depend on, and I shouldn’t delude myself.
So I inched away from him, then slowly crept out of the room so I wouldn’t wake Malcolm.
***
The next morning, I went to my first design team meeting.
I’d dressed for the occasion. I wore a tweed Gucci skirt with a matching jacket, black blouse, and matching flats. I marveled at how grown-up I felt.
This would be the first time I used my hard-earned education.
When I walked into the conference room, most of the team was already there, and I took a chair on the far side of the table. Most of the designers were in their thirties and forties—married with families and lives of their own. They made small talk about their kids’ soccer teams or play rehearsals.
No one said a word to me.
As an intern, I was invisible for the most part. I delivered mail, filed endless reams of paper, answered phones. Since my position was temporary, they probably figured it’d be a waste of time to get to know me.
I took a fortifying sip of French roast and scanned the room. Like the rest of York & Associates, the space was neutral—gray carpet, white walls, chrome and black table and chairs.
I pulled out a legal pad, along with a pen, then lined them up. I felt like a kid on her first day of kindergarten—everything was shiny and new.
“Look who’s sitting at the grown-ups table.” Seth sat down next to me.
I groaned.
Dammit. I should’ve sat beside a nice, safe soccer mom.
“Morning.” I took a sip of coffee to calm my nerves.
“How’d you get an invite? Give the boss a blow job?”
Liquid nearly sprayed from my mouth.
“Your comments are inappropriate for the office, don’t you think?” My tone was icy.
“Aw, come on, don’t be so uptight.” He nudged me.
I rolled my chair another foot away from him.
“You should be sweet to me. After all, I landed this account.”
Oh, fuck it all. I’d finally gotten a break, only for it to be snatched away by this jackass?
Then Malcolm walked in the room, and I could feel the slight increase of tension in the room. People angled their bodies toward him, straightened in their chairs.
He scanned the faces and nodded in acknowledgment when he saw mine before taking a seat at the head of the table.
I sucked in a breath.
While the interaction was professional and unobtrusive, I wondered if anyone else could tell something was going on between us. Yeah, I was paranoid, like a scarlet letter had appeared on my chest.
At this very moment, I wore the butt plug he’d given me.
Thank God no one had a clue about us, and I’d make sure it stayed that way. After all, people didn’t respect a girl who banged the boss to get ahead, even if that wasn’t what was happening in this situation.
So, I could feel the weight of Malcolm’s stare. I know he was watching me, even if I wasn’t looking up. And I sensed he wanted an explanation for my hasty exit last night, but I didn’t know what to say.
All of a sudden, there wasn’t enough room or air in this place. I was getting a case of emotional whiplash.
While I hadn’t told him anything, he’d glimpsed what lay beneath my sassy exterior. God, this was intense, way too much. I couldn’t decide what I wanted—to throw myself into his arms or run away from him.
“Get ready to be impressed.”
I blinked, coming back to myself.
Seth stood up and started his spiel.
The ad was for Righteous Kefir, a new line of sparkling probiotic infusions. Brewed kefir, sparkling water with beneficial bacteria, was bottled with fruit infusions and other healthy herbs. Since Malcolm was so health-conscious, the firm was a natural fit for the product line.
The company wanted to reach young women between the ages of twenty-one to twenty-five. Now I knew why Malcolm had let me in on this particular meeting.
I listened in, hoping to contribute something useful.
But paying attention was nearly impossible. Malcolm’s eyes were on me—all over me. I wasn’t sure he was aware of it or if anyone else noticed. Malcolm’s nostrils flared, eyes locked on mine.
After the meeting had concluded, Seth passed out variety packs of the water to everyone so we could try them for ourselves. If you’re going to peddle a product, it pays to know what you’re selling. People scooped them up as they headed out the door.
Malcolm lingered at the table, mak
ing small talk, but he was waiting to pounce on me.
“If you get any bright ideas tonight, feel free to text me.” Seth slid a six-pack over to me. One of the bottles had been Sharpied, with what I assume was his phone number.
Yeah, that’s never gonna happen.
I grabbed the water and left before Seth could make another advance.
Malcolm was hot on my heels—even though I couldn’t see him, I could feel him, his long strides eating up the distance separating us. I couldn’t run fast enough or far enough to get away from him.
Somehow, I got the impression I was running from my own desires.
But I knew what would happen if he caught up with me. Once more, I’d be at his mercy, and I couldn’t do that here. Not where we worked. Hadn’t he said he wanted to keep our relationship separate from what we did here?
“Ms. Vincent, I need to see you. Now.”
Damn. I couldn’t avoid a direct order.
The next thing I knew, Malcolm was pushing me into the office. As soon as the door closed and latched, his mouth was on mine—kissing me, demanding a response.
My good intentions vanished.
Malcolm wrapped an arm behind me, walking me toward the desk. We were both panting in between hard kisses. I never should’ve left last night. What the hell had I been thinking? We could’ve spent hours doing this.
“Why did you leave?” he gasped between demanding kisses.
“I had to go.” I pressed my mouth to his, if only to shut him up.
He wrenched his lips from my mine. “You ran away.” He bent me over the wood, hands gliding up my thighs then pushing between them.
Dear God, he was going to fuck me here. And I didn’t want to stop him.
After stripping my panties down, he pushed the plug I wore deeper into my ass.
He groaned. “Goddamn, you wore it to work today. I still haven’t had your ass, but now isn’t the time.” He undid his zipper—then froze.
“Fuck, I don’t have a condom with me.”
I moaned in disappointment.
“I didn’t intend for this to happen, but I can’t stop.” I could feel him, hard and swollen for me, and I needed him too.
“Malcolm, please….”
“Tell me to stop, and I’ll pull away.” He shoved his pants down his hips. “I can’t put on the brakes all by myself.”
We should continue this later on tonight. I could wait a few more hours for his touch, right? We could go back to his apartment, where our actions would be private, unobserved by anyone.
No, I couldn’t.
Hours felt like years, and I needed him now—the space between us was too great. At this moment, I didn’t give a damn about boundaries..
All I knew was, I’d die if he didn’t take me—now.
“I don’t care. I had my period a few days ago, and I’m on the pill, so—”
“The risk is slight.” Malcolm flipped my skirt up over my hips and braced a hand on the small of my back.
I bit my lower lip to keep from crying out as he sunk deep inside me. Malcolm felt so damn good—hard and thick and everything I needed. Then he moved, his hips fast and sure.
He pushed a hand between my thighs, playing with my clit, demanding my surrender, and I put up the white flag, alright.
I slammed my palms on the wood as he fucked me. And I lifted a leg, to give him deeper access. Then I turned my head to the side. It was daylight, no curtains in the office. There was another office building across the street, but I didn’t care if they saw us right now.
Malcolm came first, grunting into the curve of my neck. I tumbled after him, stifling a cry with my hand.
Afterward, we collapsed on his couch.
“That was….” He lifted a hand as though words failed him.
I knew exactly how he felt.
“I’m sorry, I promised to keep it professional.” He shook his head. “It didn’t take me long to break my vow.”
“In case you didn’t notice, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t control themselves.” I stood on shaky legs and retrieved my panties from the floor, wiggling as I pulled them up beneath my skirt.
Watching me with hawkish eyes, Malcolm buttoned his fly.
He held out a hand, I took it, and he pulled me back onto his lap, holding me. His arms were snug around my waist, and I felt that sense of peace again. There was something hypnotic about his embrace, because I never wanted to leave it.
“Don’t run out on me again, okay? Wake me before you go.”
I bit my lip.
Malcolm lifted my chin. “Promise? I just want you to tell me.”
I could sense this was important to him, so I nodded.
“I promise.”
“Good. Now, did that asshole give you his phone number?” He turned the forgotten pack of water around so he could read the magic marker message. As soon as we’d gotten in the door, it’d tumbled out of my hand.
“Maybe Seth has a thing for me.”
Malcolm glowered. “Yes, it’s come to my attention.”
I squirmed out of his hold and stood again. I’d been so preoccupied with Malcolm, I hadn’t noticed if Seth ogled me.
“He said I should call him if I had any ideas about the ad campaign. And if he wants more, it isn’t going anywhere—trust me.”
“I trust you, but not him.” He gripped one of the bottles hard. “Let’s play this out. Next, he’ll want you to meet to discuss it in person, probably over dinner. Then he’ll have his tongue down your throat by the time dessert arrives.”
Oh, my God—he’s jealous.
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
Malcolm had such a tough outer layer, I’d never suspected insecurities lurking beneath.
“No. Has he tried anything? Made you uncomfortable?”
The last thing I needed was some macho showdown between Seth and Malcolm. This secret would be way out in the open, and while I didn’t need a recommendation from this job, it’d be nice to have one. Especially if I did some actual design work, something I could add to my resume.
“I went to lunch with him when I first got here, but I blew him off after that.”
“You should report him to human resources. He’s abusing his authority.”
I smirked. “Really?”
“Don’t even try comparing me to him.” He wagged a finger at me. “I told you flat-out, nothing would happen between us if you didn’t want me. If Seth is pressuring you, put him in his place.”
I smoothed my skirt. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself—I’ve had plenty of practice.” I winced after the words left my mouth. Yikes, I hadn’t intended to sound so bitter.
Malcolm tilted his head, and I could read the sympathy in his expression.
Dammit.
“Look, I should get going on this campaign unless you have something else for me to do?” I tried not to sound too hopeful. But I was itching to get started.
And I really wanted out of this conversation.
Malcolm sighed. “My errands will wait. You should spend today working on the campaign.”
“Thank you.” I hustled to the door.
“Seth does good work, but he’s a bit of a showboat. Don’t let him take credit for your ideas. Tell you what—come up with something, then present it to me tomorrow. If it looks good, you can pitch it to the design team at the follow-up meeting, okay?”
“Are you sure you just don’t want me calling him?”
“I’m going to take the Fifth on that one.” Malcolm stood and brushed a kiss across my forehead. “Now get out of here before I have you bent over the desk again.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“No, but I’ve got to get something done today, besides you.”
We exchanged mischievous smiles.
“Speaking of, I have a client dinner tonight, but I’d like to see you this weekend, all weekend. And I want you to sleep beside me.”
I flushed.
�
�I know it’s a big step, but I want all of you—and I was upfront about it.”
He was right. Malcolm had warned me from the very beginning.
“Okay, I’ll think about it, but you don’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“Yes, I do. Believe me, you’re worth it, and besides, I’m a fucking gentleman. I want to ravage you and then make you breakfast. Okay?”
When he put it like that, how could I refuse?
“Works for me.”
This was pretty much the best day ever. I went to a real design meeting, I was circling around some clever ideas, and I’d had an amazing quickie on the desk.
To top it off, I had a date for the weekend.
I sailed out of his office feeling better than I had in…well, ever.
***
That evening, I hoodwinked my friends into being my own personal focus group. The girls were doubtful, staring at the brightly colored bottles lined up on the coffee table with a mixture of dismay and bewilderment.
Darcy was the only one of us who ate even remotely healthy. Like most college students, we lived on takeout and microwave meals. Other than Iris, none of us had the time to cook.
“These are portable, healthy drinks,” I said, trying to sell it. “You can grab one and take it with you to class. It’s an energy boost to get you through the day.”
Personally, I was a fan of a Starbucks run. Nothing like a venti chocolate mocha to get a girl in the mood to study.
“I’ll pass. I’ve got my Earl Grey.” Darcy glanced up from her book and lifted a Columbia mug. She was re-reading Little Women, because she rarely watched television.
Weird. I loved to scope out the commercials—searching for ideas.
“Too bad, I need your input. This is for work.” I went to the bathroom and grabbed a sleeve of tiny paper cups. Then I doled out six to each of us, one for every bottle. It was like the time I’d made us all Jell-O shots, only this was considerably less fun.
Some of the bottles were labeled “refreshers” and others “berry blends.”
Iris took a sip and spit it back out. “Oh, my God. It tastes like bubbly perfume. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of fermented food—my family used to make our own sauerkraut—but this stuff is plain wrong.”
“Well, I don’t think we’ll put that in the ad.”
Rough Ride (Let it Ride Book 1) Page 8
