“Loyalty. Commitment. I believe in that the most. Committing to one thing, bordering on obsession. Believing from the beginning there won’t be anything or anyone that will come between me and that commitment once it begins. Trusting that connection is unbreakable. Guess you could say I’m an all-in kind of girl when it comes to my commitments.”
I swear every time I mentioned the C word his eye twitched. I had to bite the side of my cheek to keep myself from giving up the game prematurely.
“You’re aware this job will be changing. How do you feel about that change?”
It was a decent question. “Change is inevitable. I’m willing to be flexible if that’s what it takes to keep the commitment. To ensure we weather the storm of change and can stay together forever. I wholeheartedly believe in the unwavering promise of a long-term relationship. I can’t help but get completely invested and attached once I become involved with someone—Er, I mean, something.”
Panic. Written clear over his face and in his clearing of the throat.
I went in for the kill.
“Also, I tend to obsess about that thing I’ve latched myself onto. It really only takes one night for me to be unable to let go. My sister says it’s unhealthy, and maybe the restraining orders tend to support that theory, too, but I can’t seem to help myself.”
I could no longer keep my laughter in. His face. His priceless expression before his eyes narrowed in on the humor in my voice. “Oh, my goodness. Now that’s funny.”
He was trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. “No. It’s not. Jesus.”
“Serves you right for getting all weird after the shower.”
He looked offended. “I wasn’t weird. I was attempting to be practical.”
“No. You were trying to distance yourself. Putting on your suit and making a point that, come Monday, we are back to being only professionals.” I tried to do an impression of his stern accent, which set me into another fit of giggles.
“That was a poor impression of me. And I was simply trying to make certain you understand—”
I arched a brow and cut him off. “Did sex make me stupid? Do you think I’m less qualified for the CFO position today then I was yesterday?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why do you think it’s okay for you to treat me as if I am?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, and then appeared to struggle to find the words. “It wasn’t my intention. In my defense, I was trying to avoid giving mixed signals after what happened.”
“You mean signals such as getting a limo so we could have the privacy for you to fuck me across the country? Those types of mixed signals?”
“I—” He raked his hand through his hair. Then he started to laugh. It was the type of carefree sound that reminded me of the side of Simon I hoped to share the limo with instead of the stuffy one who had threatened to take over.
“What’s so funny?”
He moved quickly on top of me, spreading me out on the bench seat, his body pressed to mine. His hands framed my face while his gaze held mine. “You. I may have Tom do your actual interview to make him sweat it. You know how to keep a man on his toes for sure.”
I grinned. “I like it. Now, are you ready to stop treating me as if I don’t understand professional boundaries or that I’m not aware of what this is?”
He frowned. “What is it?”
“A good time with an expiration date, together with the complication of staying discreet because of work. Maybe we could fool ourselves into thinking it’s something beyond that if I was the type who could fly to meet you somewhere or if you were the type who didn’t spend ninety-nine percent of his time working, but we won’t. Instead, we’ll simply enjoy the time we do have.”
His stare burned into mine for the longest time before he took my lips in a scorching kiss. Then he pulled away as suddenly as he’d started. After straightening out his suit and sitting back on the bench, he extended a hand to help me sit up.
Huh. Not where I thought we’d been heading. But he had a smirk on his face.
“It occurs to me I need to try a different type of interview technique with you Ms. Waters.” His mischievousness was apparent in his expression.
“Do tell.”
“Very well. So, tell me, how do you feel about masturbation?”
My heart rate doubled instantly. Huh. Brexy had a playful side. Excellent. I tried to keep my face serious for a moment. “Well, I’m self-taught as most probably are, with years of experience and a secret Tumblr account that assists when needed. In other words, I’m a big fan.”
I couldn’t believe I’d confided about my Tumblr habit. Then again, this was the first man I’d met who I knew wouldn’t judge. Instead, desire was evident in the way he had to shift in his seat.
“Would you say you’re more of a manual kind of girl, or do you prefer automation when available?”
I was getting aroused by his words and the game we were playing. “I’ve always felt it’s important to start with the manual way of doing things before switching to automatic. Gives a greater appreciation for the task at hand. Literally.”
He ducked his head but not before I glimpsed his teeth flashing in a hidden smile.
“I could demonstrate if you’d like.” I’d raised the stakes and could see the lust clouding his expression.
“By all means. I’d love to see an example of your work.”
I moved to the opposing seat to give him a better view and peeled down my yoga pants to my knees. I left the thong where it was, merely sliding it to the side. Reaching down, I circled two fingers on my clit and then watched as he moved closer. Eyes on the prize.
“Do you prefer it hard and fast or slow and sensual?”
I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the two times we’d had sex or my fingers, but I answered honestly for either. “Both.”
He inhaled a breath. “Fuck. I can smell your arousal.”
“Feel free to help me with my demonstration if I’m not doing it quite up to your standards, Mr. Granger.”
He moved in front of me, on his knees, his face level with my pussy but still inches away. “I should not be so turned on by the way you say my surname but I am.”
I grinned, liking this game better by the moment.
“How often do you find yourself doing this?” he asked, his voice thick.
“In front of someone or by myself?”
He tensed instantly. “Both.”
“Never before and not as often as I probably should be.”
“What else haven’t you done?” His hands slid up my bare thighs.
“I’ve never had sex in a limo.”
“Any other skills on which you need further training?” Thumbs hooked on the side of my thong, working it down.
I bit my lip. “You tell me. How was it in the shower earlier?”
A satisfied smile came over his handsome face. “I would say you’re an expert in your field of expertise.”
“Excellent. I’ll update my résumé.”
He chuckled. “How do you feel about working exclusively with me during this project?”
I wondered if he meant it how it sounded. “No moonlighting or outsourcing of my duties?”
His eyes darkened. “Absolutely not. I’m very demanding and require one-on-one attention while I’m here on site.”
I gasped the moment he dropped his face and buried it in my pussy. “Let me guess. Long hours, grueling schedule, and lots of overtime.”
“Yes. But amazing benefits,” he mumbled against my skin, the reverberation sending tingles down to my toes. He thrust two fingers inside me, so deep that I cried out. I was already wet, but when I looked down and watched him moving in and out, I became soaked. I was so unbelievably turned on by what he could do with my body.
“God, I hope I get the job,” I gasped just as he took me over the edge.
***
I woke to the sound of Simon’s voice. “Peyton, time to get up. We’re alm
ost at your house.”
Slowly coming awake, I stretched, remembering I was in the back of a limo. Quite naked and wrapped in a blanket on the bench seat. Glancing at him, I found he was already dressed back in his suit. It was amazing how much more quickly a twenty-five-hour ride went when you spent most of it having sex.
“The trip went by a lot quicker this time.” We’d stopped a few times, dressing quickly first, then eating, a change of drivers—after which we’d be back at it. I was sure Simon had been inside of me in every single state we’d driven through.
Hm. Except Texas. Guess there’d be an opportunity for the Lone Star State some other time. At the moment, I was way too excited to get out of this car, have a shower, climb into my own bed, and see my dog.
“It did go by quickly.”
I grinned. In minutes, I had dressed and was now pulling on my shoes. “Too bad we didn’t think of that way to pass the time on the way to New York.”
It was his turn to grin. “I was thinking it. But I had to wait until the interviews were completed first.”
So that had been his line in the sand.
The car pulled up to the curb in front of my house a few minutes later. “I’ll help you with your things,” he offered and then walked me up to my front porch.
I opened my front door to an anxious Cooper. He was doing his little dance of joy and whining. “My sister dropped him off about an hour ago.” I hadn’t wanted to come home to an empty house.
Simon stroked his head while I rubbed his body. “Someone is sure happy to see you.”
Meeting his gaze, I wanted him to know how much I appreciated his efforts. “Thank you. For making this happen. For the date and the limo. For everything.”
He leaned in, but then, as if remembering we were on my front porch, he shoved his hands in his suit pockets. “You’re welcome. I, uh, guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Funny how you can kiss me after our first date but not after an entire limo-inspired sex marathon across half the country.”
His face turned a particular shade of pink I hadn’t seen before. Then, suddenly, he was backing me into my house. He shut the door and dipped me in dramatic fashion for a kiss for the ages. “How was that?”
Cooper was whining around us, the driver was waiting, and I was grinning from ear to ear. I touched his face. “Epic. See you tomorrow.”
He gave me one last kiss on my forehead before setting me on my feet.
As I watched him walk away, get in the limo, and drive off, I wondered what the coming week would have in store for us.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Simon
On Monday morning I sipped black coffee in the hotel lobby while waiting on Emma to join me. I had my suitcase in hand because today we’d be moving over to corporate housing. The place was only a few miles from the office. I was anxious to have my own kitchen for the next couple of weeks. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I could manage eggs, and I wanted a blender for my protein shakes.
I smiled, thinking of Peyton and her affinity for fast-food hash browns. No doubt she kept her body in shape, but she wasn’t afraid to indulge. The thought of how much we’d indulged in during the limo ride home would stay etched in my brain forever. Her body, her little moans, the fact I couldn’t get enough. The thoughts of her naked made me have to shift in my suit.
I got myself under control just in time, as Emma came off the lift with two of the largest suitcases known to man.
“You could’ve rung for a bell hop,” I admonished.
She shrugged. “I could’ve, but I figured you’d thank me for the manly exercise I’m giving you the next time you’re wooing your woman. Which reminds me—how was your weekend?”
Since Emma had coordinated the limo at the last moment and also had assisted in putting together my date with Peyton in New York, there was no use pretending nothing happened. “It was brilliant, but if I’m being honest, this coming week will be new territory. Mixing the personal and professional.”
She laughed, while we both waited for the valets to get our cars. “You must really like her.”
Because she said it from a place of sincerity, I answered with simple truthfulness. “I really do.” However, I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“And it doesn’t, you know, freak you out?”
Emma and I had the same feeling about letting people get close to us. We didn’t do it. So, I could understand her surprise at learning someone had somehow penetrated my force field.
“A bit at first, but she understands I’m only here for a couple more weeks.”
“So maybe understanding it’s temporary helps ease the fear?”
I thought about her question. I’d never had a long-term relationship. Didn’t believe I was the type who could ever sustain one. As Peyton had pointed out, I spent most of my time working.
“By the end of the next couple of weeks, we’ll probably be sick of each other, and all the magic will be gone.”
Emma remained uncharacteristically quiet while our vehicles were brought around.
“What?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d like to believe there could be magic some day for the cynics.”
Even if it was possible, a couple of weeks wouldn’t be enough time to find it. But for some reason, I didn’t dispel her of the notion.
***
I didn’t see or talk to Peyton on Monday. I was swamped with managing the logistics of the acquisition. Tomorrow would be much the same, with George coming in to the office to make the official announcement about the sale of the company. That meant, come Wednesday, the employee interviews would start.
But all this work didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking of her. Wasn’t picturing her up against the wall in my flat. Her on her knees in my shower and the wicked things she could do with her tongue. But the memory forever etched in my mind would be her touching herself in the limo. And had she mentioned a Tumblr account? That was something I definitely needed to get my hands on. Too many times, I literally had to pull myself from my thoughts and focus back on work.
I had to schedule everyone for their interviews. Along with this necessity, there was a pile I had to go through containing the employee reviews and compensation history from the last few years, as well as the recommendations from the various directors.
I’d been on the phone with New York and Philip, trying to glean information about Peyton’s interview. All he’d provided was that the board had been impressed, but they had more external candidates to consider. It had been on the tip of my tongue to reiterate how important I thought it would be to have a person with a company legacy in the position, but I kept my mouth shut. I never would’ve inserted my opinion before I’d met her.
That was the most frustrating part of this new dynamic. Second guessing everything. Would I text her if we didn’t work together? Would I be as anxious for her to become CFO if I didn’t care about her? Would I? The list went on. This is why I went radio silent on her. What I hadn’t expected was that she wouldn’t reach out to me, either.
By Tuesday, I started to get anxious and second guess—again. Maybe I should have reached out yesterday, after all. Was she angry? Should I text her today? What would I say? How ironic that I’d wanted some distance to put me back in control, yet here I was in my office in the late afternoon feeling anything but.
I walked down to her office, intending to ask how everyone was taking the news of the sale as an excuse to see her.
Part of me wondered if she was as anxious to see me as I was to see her.
After knocking on her door, I heard her voice say, “Come in.”
She looked surprised when I walked in.
I shut the door and took the visitor’s chair across from her desk. The air suddenly felt thicker, the walls felt closer, and I found myself rooted to my seat, drinking in the vision of her. She had her hair up, a black dress on, and soft makeup. Fuck, I’d missed her.
“Hello.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Hello to you.”
We sat there, both of us simply lost in the sight of one another.
“What are you thinking about this very moment?” I queried, my voice husky. I needed to know if I’d been on her mind as much as she’d been on mine.
“Very unprofessional thoughts.”
My lips twitched. “What kind of unprofessional thoughts?”
She swept the papers on her desk to the side. “The type that would scatter everything on my desk to the floor.”
I hissed before adjusting to the discomfort of an instant hard-on. “How am I supposed to get through the rest of day now?”
She unapologetically shrugged. “You did ask.”
“You’re right, I did. And it’s a shame we won’t be partaking in any office shenanigans.”
She leaned back in her chair, smiling. “It is a shame.”
I glanced around at her desk, noting it managed to look messier than it had last week. “Do the papers on your desk multiply overnight?”
“Yes. Like bunnies on a warm Texas night. Why? Does this bother you?” She tipped a stack of four folders over, creating more disarray.
“Nope.” I was lying. Not only did I want to straighten the mess, but I also wanted to label all the folders, file the papers in them, and put them in drawers.
Challenge held in her eyes along with a hefty dose of humor. “Mm-hm. What about this?” This time she emptied her paperclip holder into the middle of the desk.
I twitched.
“Or this?” She held a stack of business cards above her desk, about to let them fall.
“Wait.”
She lifted a brow questioningly, pausing in her torture.
“You’d thank me later for it since you wouldn’t want to clean up the mess.”
She shrugged and let the cards go. “Actually I’ve been meaning to go through them. Now admit it. You’re a neat freak.”
I scoffed. “I’m no such thing. I simply happen to prefer order and efficiency.”
“Uh-huh. In other words: neat freak. Not saying it’s a bad thing. But it does bother you.”
Without Apology Page 14
