He snarled when he tossed her phone back.
So much for extending last night’s play time into today. “Bad news?”
“Seems that way. Something’s wrong with the crowd-funding sites. I don’t have details yet.” He raked his gaze over her, exhaled slowly, cheeks puffing and then deflating. “I have to get home. I really wouldn’t if I had a choice.”
Concern rolled over her disappointment. “My site?”
“All of them. Jared just said running slow. But it was bad enough someone called every emergency number until they got him. I’m sorry, but duty calls.”
“If you’re working on my stuff, I want to be in on it. Stay here.”
“I get the feeling this is a more global thing.” His towel slipped lower on his hips, and she couldn’t keep her gaze from drifting. The corners of his mouth twitched. “I need to get dressed.”
She really didn’t want that, but she could compromise. “I guess.” She kept the teasing in her tone. “But do the work here if you can. You’ve got to remote into the office even if you go home.” It wasn’t because she hated to see him leave. Not even close. The clench in her gut was completely and totally because the future of her shelter depended on her site working. “I’ll grab your phone. Is it really in the car?”
“Probably.” He gave her a half smile. “Thanks.”
By the time she got back, just a moment or two later, he was already logging into a remote computer. She plugged in his phone and set it on the desk next to him. When he grabbed her wrist, a shock raced over her, sending her earlier desires tumbling through her body.
He spun in the chair, tugged her between his legs, and rested his hands on her hips. “The moment’s not ruined, just delayed.” With each word, his breath caressed her stomach through her shirt.
She wanted to close her eyes and sink into the moment. Drop onto his lap, and see what they could get up to. That he needed to focus was only one of several reasons that was a bad idea. She stepped out of his grasp before temptation won out. “Jared’s waiting for you to call him back.”
Disappointment splashed onto Tate’s face before vanishing just as quickly, and he turned back to her computer. “Yes, ma’am.” He fiddled with his phone.
Seconds later, Jared’s voice filtered through the speaker. “What did you do, punch it to ninety to get home so fast?”
“Decided I was too impatient. I’m staying here. What’s up?”
****
Tate forced himself to concentrate on the conversation, and not the lingering scent of lilacs that still teased him.
Jared launched into an explanation. “Someone has tweaked your server configuration so you don’t have any bandwidth. Mikki is working on it. Second, we had trolls in the comments. Most of them on the shelter’s site, but because of the brand, it bled into the other sites as well. We had to shut down comments.”
“Mikki’s not in my budget.” Tate had tried to snag her, but V held onto her top talent.
“Consider it a personal favor.” Some of the irritation faded from Jared’s voice. “They’re Skriddie services, she’s Skriddie operations, so we’re blurring the line.”
Tate smiled, despite the situation. It was nice to have good friends. He needed to make a call on what to do next.
“What kind of comments?” Alyssia asked.
It had been a controversial decision to add comments to the campaigns, but these were meant to be social platforms to show support for the small businesses using them. Letting people interact was meant to show that, knowing they had filters in place on each site, and their assigned community managers kept an eye on what was being said.
“Nothing.” Jared’s response came too quickly. “Explain again why you’re at her place, Tate?”
Tate rolled his eyes at the screen, glad no one was watching. “Are we talking a dozen comments? A hundred?”
“Thousands. They’re hidden, but not gone from the back end.”
Tate suppressed a roar of frustration. He dialed into the database server. “I’m guessing we can delete them all.” Next, he loaded an admin window, and clicked into the comments. He tried not to read the details.
I could never support a shelter that kidnaps people’s dogs and refuses to give them back.
What the hell is wrong with you people?
You should all rot in hell, you sick, puppy-killing fucks.
His gut sank with each new note. So much for the issue with Thompson dying quickly and quietly.
“Oh, God.” Lys’s soft voice dragged his attention from the vitriol. He whirled in his chair to find her leaned against the far wall, raking her fingers through her hair. “This is bad. It’s so, so bad. What am I going to do?”
He was on his feet in an instant. He closed the distance between them and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. We’ll fix it.”
“Right now, I’m having a hard time believing that.” Her voice cracked.
“Fuck. We have another problem.” Jared’s voice sounded tinny coming from the phone.
Tate glanced over his shoulder at the computer, then back at Lys.
“Take care of it.” Resignation hung heavy in her voice.
He kept his voice low. “I’m worried about you. It will wait a minute.”
She dragged in a shuddering breath, and broke free of his grasp. “I’m fine.” The emotion vanished from her voice.
“Tate.” Irritation swelled in Jared’s voice.
“Go.”
A string of foul words spilled through Tate’s head as he sat back in the desk chair. “What?” He couldn’t help the occasional glance over his shoulder, at Lys pacing, and tugging at her hair.
“Mikki’s doing work on the structure. She says someone’s been making manual donation entries in the database. She’s only found the one in here so far, but since it’s wasn’t added by the software, she’s concerned there are more hiding out, and it’s for a couple hundred dollars. Your development team followed security protocols, right?”
Tate risked one last glance at Alyssia, who had paused, and was watching him, brows knitted together. He didn’t want her to hear this. How did they even find that? “Yes, and it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. It’s—”
“It’s not an issue.” Tate barked. “I know exactly what it is. It’s not a security breach.” Please don’t let him push the matter. Not with Lys listening. Now wasn’t when he wanted to explain he’d slipped the manual donation in last night when he’d worked on her site.
“If you say so.”
“Positive. Focus on the actual problems.” Tate looked behind him again, but the room was empty. An invisible grip tightened around his chest. Nothing to get worked up over. “I thought you plugged all your security holes. Where’s this coming from?” The dig wasn’t fair, but Tate’s frustration wouldn’t let him hold it back. Between Jared and Mikki, they’d accounted for so many technical security holes they could fill volumes with the work they’d done. Still, someone had managed to bypass security.
“We did plug the holes. Someone’s been screwing with your settings.” Jared spilled off a list of details.
Right, the technical stuff. They’d done triage, it was time to step back and fix things more completely. Tate let his thoughts trip through a list of next steps. “I’ll get a hold of someone to help with client and user-facing messages. We’ll paint a pretty picture. Back in ten.”
It was a good excuse to hang up and go check on Lys. Despite his tension, relief tickled his senses when he found her. She was in her bedroom, still completely dressed. Except she’d curled up on top of her comforter and fallen asleep. She snored softly.
Of course. She’d been up all night. He brushed her hair off her face, and the impulse to lean in and kiss her on the cheek raced through him. He banished the desire. That wasn’t a casual gesture. It definitely fell outside either facet of their relationship.
After one last, ambivalent gaze in her directio
n, he pulled a blanket over her, and headed back into her office. He closed both doors, so he wouldn’t disturb her.
He made a few calls, found someone on the Skriddie marketing team who didn’t mind putting in the extra time—especially with the promise of compensation—and called Jared back. The morning melted into afternoon as they worked through configurations, strategies, handed out assignments, and monitored timelines that only had minutes of leeway depending on the task.
A hand rested on Tate’s arm, and he jumped.
“Sorry.” Lys’s voice was soft enough only he would hear, despite the speakerphone. She set a plastic bag on the desk next to him, Chinese takeout boxes peeked out at him. The heavy scents of citrus, spice, and grease hit him, and his stomach growled in response. Maybe he should have eaten earlier. “I thought you might be hungry.”
He put the phone on mute—they were in a lull anyway—and whirled in the chair to face her. “I didn’t hear you get up.”
“Then you didn’t hear me go out, either. I snagged your keys so I could get into your apartment.” She held up a second bag, and he realized it had clothes in it. His clothes. She shrugged, playful smile dancing on her face. “Wishful thinking.”
The desire he’d squelched earlier rushed back. He stood, tangled his fingers in her hair, and crushed his mouth to hers. She whimpered against his lips and dug her fingers into his shoulders. His pulse roared in his veins, mingling with the desire to press her against the wall and strip her down. He subdued most of the response. “Thank you.”
Pink dotted her cheeks. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Getting it under control.” He traced his thumb over the back of her neck, and twisted a strand of hair around one finger. “Still got a few more hours, though.”
She nodded behind her, but didn’t break his grip. “I’ll be in the living room, watching TV.”
“Do we have the new landing page?” Jared asked.
Alyssia shook her head, and stepped out of Tate’s reach. “Good luck.”
Tate wanted to chase her. He forced himself to unmute his phone instead. “Yeah. ETA to deploy, five minutes.” He dove back into the grind, picking at his food, even after it went cold. The light outside faded, and computer clock told him it was after ten when they finally declared the day a success.
“This saved my project, and my ass today,” Tate said, as he and Jared wrapped everything up.
“You’re welcome. You owe me.”
“Bullshit. This is you paying me back for that all-nighter in Vegas.” The weekend Jared and Mikki met had led to a major crisis for the company as well. All of them had pulled an all-nighter to bring things back under control.
“Fine.” Jared laughed. “You okay to make it home? Sleep in your own bed?”
Tate forced himself to ignore the emphasized word. “It’s only ten. I’m not an old man. But now that you mention it… the couch here looks pretty comfy.” A twinge in his neck reminded him he’d spent last night there, and that might not actually be true. Then again, he’d only slept a few hours, and he’d been hunched over a computer all day.
“I’m glad we got this sorted,” Jared said. “And at least as glad you’re not serious.”
Tate ignored the lack of conviction in his best friend’s voice. “Totally. Night, man.” He disconnected, and leaned back in the chair. Exhaustion, combined with Jared’s half-joke, summoned a doubt Tate had managed to suppress since last night. What was he doing? Carrying on like this wasn’t helping either of them. He should have gone home this morning. Or last night. Whatever he was doing with Alyssia wasn’t going anywhere. How had he justified it to himself?
So why did knowing that ache in his joints, and rattle uncomfortably in his head?
“How’d it go?” Lys’s soft question startled him. “Sorry to interrupt. I heard you hang up.”
He whirled to find her standing in the door. The way she leaned against the frame accentuated her lithe figure, and he let his gaze trip over her curves. “It’s fixed. We’ll put more permanent measures in place on Tuesday.”
She hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her shorts, pulling just low enough to tease. “So what now?”
She wasn’t talking about work. He didn’t need to clarify with her. That didn’t make his answer come any easier, though. He needed to tell her he was leaving. Thank her for everything. Walk out the front door, and dial all the flirting back to zero. The words repeated in his thoughts on fast-forward until they were a scrambled mess of squeals. He was exhausted, still wearing the same clothes he’d been in yesterday, and hadn’t had more than four hours of sleep any given night in the last several.
But watching Lys’s chest rise and fall with each breath. The way she chewed her bottom lip. The tick of her thumbs against her bare stomach. It sent a new rush of energy through him, and the reminder they had unfinished business from this morning. He crossed the room, and rested a hand at the back of her neck. Lilacs teased him, and her warm skin against his palm jerked his senses to life. He brushed his lips over hers. “I was thinking this time, you join me in the shower.”
Tomorrow. He’d walk away tomorrow.
Chapter Eleven
They shed their clothes quickly between Alyssia’s office, and the bathroom. When she bent over to turn on the water, Tate glided a hand up her thigh, and over her ass, cupping the cheek.
She sighed and leaned into him, pressing her bare back against his chest. She wouldn’t linger on how right this all felt, just on how good. He drew his palm up her stomach, and between her breasts, though he never touched them. He rested his hand at the base of her neck, and held her tight. Every touch was another claim staked on her skin. Another searing mark holding them together.
He drew back the shower curtain and nudged her into the tub. Seconds later, he stood behind her again, as the hot water sluiced over them. She reached behind her to grab the hard length pressing into her butt.
He grabbed her wrist with a, “Tsk,” and then kissed up the side of her neck, lips vibrating against her skin. “Patience.”
She ground against him, satisfied when his erection jerked in response. “I’ll try.”
He reached over her shoulder, grabbed the body wash, and poured a generous dollop into his hand before setting the bottle back on its shelf. A shock of cold raced over her when he rested his hand on her stomach again, and she squeaked.
“Sorry.” He sounded anything but. “I guess we need to warm it up.” He drew his palms over her skin. Up her chest, down her thighs, everywhere but the bits of her aching to be touched. She gasped when he trailed along the back of her legs, behind the knees, and groaned when he slipped over the insides of her wrists. With her entire body begging to be touched, new erogenous zones spread everywhere. She cried out when he finally cupped her breasts, and a new spark of pleasure filled her.
“God, I love your tits.” His grip slid over her skin. “Gorgeous, pink nipples. Perky.” He squeezed, and she squirmed in pleasure. “Sensitive.” He kept one hand on her chest, and the other slipped lower. “But this.” He pushed between her folds. “What do you sound like when you’re not worried about someone hearing you scream when you come?”
She swayed her hips against his touch. “You’re welcome to find out.”
He pulled away from her clit. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He moved both hands to cup her ass, and slid a finger between her thighs. Soap slithered down her skin, pooled at her feet, and then washed down the drain.
He reached over her, and grabbed the shower head. “I’ve always wondered, if you get the full enjoyment out of this.”
Embarrassment and a new level of arousal pulsed between her legs. She fought the desire to confess he was frequently the focus of those fantasies. “I might.”
He moved the head along her skin, letting the water flow over her, and rinse away the soap. He nudged one of her legs forward with his knee, and brought the shower head to rest between her thighs. “God, I’d like to watch that sometime.”
The idea of putting on a show for Tate pooled in her belly, tugging at some of her more vivid fantasies of him walking in on her. With the water pounding against her clit, his other hand still sliding between her legs from behind, and the vivid pictures in her mind, orgasm threatened her senses.
He pulled away before she climaxed. “Not yet.” He whispered.
She liked this teasing. She took the showerhead from him, replaced it, and filled her own palm with soap. “Your turn.” She whirled to face him.
He raised his brows. “What did you have in mind?”
“It’s a shower. So, getting clean.” She tried to repeat what he’d done just a few moments ago. Soaping over his chest, up his legs, everywhere but his stiff shaft.
He leaned a hand on the tile, and lowered his head until his forehead met hers. “You’re killing me, Lys. I need your hands wrapped around my cock.”
His groan when she obliged tickled all her senses. She kept her grip loose, stroking slowly, deliberately, sliding over every inch of his member. He lifted her chin, and crushed his lips to hers, devouring her. Driving the kiss through her. He broke away, and held her gaze. “Turn around.”
“I don’t—”
“Turn around.” He emphasized each word.
A pleasant shudder filled her at the command in his voice, and she spun away from him. He placed his hand between her shoulder blades, and pushed. She took the hint, bending at the waist, and pressed her hand against the edge of the tub for support.
“I can’t behave around you.” The head of his cock slid down the crack of her ass, then nudged her pussy. She let out a loud cry when he thrust inside without any further fanfare. “Fuck, you’re so tight. So slippery.” His words were punctuated by groans.
He gripped her hips, fingers digging into the skin, leaving more invisible marks. Each time he pounded against her, he hit something inside. Striking the pleasure spot hard, fast, and frantic. The orgasm she’d been drawn back from rushed forward again, and she teetered on the edge.
Sheltering His Desire Page 8
