“And they need you for that?”
“It just makes things go faster if I’m there.”
“Just let them do their job, Jane. They’ll lean on you too much if you let them.”
“I just thought it would help,” she said. “How did things go in Wellington?”
“Good. We have to write a white paper for the technology we’re proposing, and we have to get it peer reviewed by the universities. I want you to take care of it.” Jane diligently wrote down notes on her tablet. “Use the engineers for that, and don’t get roped into their systems planning.”
“Okay,” she said. She wore a dark charcoal grey pants suit today. It fit her well. She was putting more attention into the clothes she was buying. Maybe he’d be better off with her older wardrobe—the one that didn’t fit quite as well, because the slim pants and cropped jacket showed off her backside beautifully. No wonder the engineers were monopolizing her time, he thought with a surge of possessiveness.
“You can be too soft,” he said. She looked up. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d said it. He wanted a reaction, maybe to pick a fight with her. He wanted to break through that cool professional exterior she’d developed. He should be appreciating it, but for some reason, he wanted to tear it down. He could see anger flaring in her eyes. There was something rewarding in getting a response from her.
“I’m not soft,” she stated. “I just happen to think that working together makes things better—makes the project run smoother and faster.”
“But you end up getting distracted.”
“That’s a bit unfair. You’ve been here like two seconds, I’ve been working on this project for months, and we’ve achieved quite a lot so far. Just because I run projects a little differently, doesn’t mean it’s wrong. You way isn’t the only way.”
“I am just trying to give you some advice, from my experience.”
She paused and took a breath. Then she smiled, “I will take that under advisement.” She was shutting him out, pulling on the professional mask.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Withdraw.”
That got her anger back. “I am not withdrawing. This is your project now,” she said bitterly, “you can run it anyway you want. If you want me to leave the engineers to it, I will leave the engineers to it. Anything you want.”
That last bit sounded a little too good to him, out of context. She certainly hadn’t meant it that way, but his mind had grasped onto the statement and refused to let go. Before he knew what he was doing he grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. She hadn’t had time to react. She tasted divine, just like he remembered. Pleasure flooded his body, his brain, making it hard to think—dismissing the alarm that screamed at him that this was an incredible risk; he could be in real trouble right now. She could have him in court, for pities sake, tied up in a sexual harassment case for years. His reputation would take a serious hit.
Making a little whimpering sound, her lips became pliant against him and he deepened the kiss, pulling her even closer. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and she parted her sweet mouth for him. He felt a ridiculous sense of achievement as he gained access to explore her mouth. He couldn’t stop, it was like the flood gates were open and a pressing need was finally fulfilled, like he’s been holding his breath for a long time.
He had to stop or he was going to have her here on the desk. The friction of her hips was just too much and he had to pull away. Then came the realisation that he didn’t want this, this is not what he wanted. Well, intellectually that was, he hadn’t been this hard in a long time. He’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t go near her again after Singapore. Wrenching himself away, he saw that she looked stunningly beautiful with freshly kissed lips and the way she was looking at him. No professional exterior now. He could barely hold back from kissing her again.
“Stop making me do things I don’t want to do,” he said, trying to get control of his voice through his extreme need for oxygen.
“What?” she said with confusion. “I didn’t make you do anything.” He snorted and she licked her lips, a subconscious move, but he saw it. She was taking the taste of him and it just about undid him. He crossed his arms over his chest as a means of keeping some distance, and also to keep them from reaching out for her. “Alright,” she said in a dark tone, “I forbid you from kissing me, you better not do it again, or I will…”
“You’ll what?” he said more coolly. Her challenge addressed that part of him that drove him—the part that had made him see down school bullies even when he was the smallest kid in the class as he’d been put forward two years. He didn’t back down from challenges. He should be apologizing, lamenting that he didn’t know what came over him and promise not to do it again. Instead, he let her challenge seep in and goad him. He took a step closer and she fought to keep her spot—he was impressed as she didn’t budge. Moving a little closer, their bodies were just touching. He leaned his head down and put his lips on the base of her neck. He wasn’t kissing her; he was just stroking them ever so slightly along her skin, knowing this spot was a weakness for her.
“And what will you do if I kiss you,” he said slowly stroking her neck. She didn’t respond, but neither did she back away. He moved his mouth higher up her neck. He wanted to grab her to him so badly, but he fought the urge. Reaching her mouth, he rested there, as close to a kiss as could be without touching her. Her breath on his mouth, while he stayed there. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, basically functioning on instinct at this point. He knew he needed her to relent, and with a small groan she did. She leaned into the kiss and claimed his lips. He had her, and he claimed his prize with a deep bruising kiss.
A kiss wasn’t enough; he needed all of her, he realised as he pulled back from the kiss.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand and walking to the door, celebrating a victory as she came with him. They were kissing again as soon as the elevator door closed, his hands roamed freely, and he could feel hers wanting access under his shirt.
The doors opened again and they parted. Although hating the distance and delay, he knew he needed to get them back to his place. He pulled the clicker out for his car and led her to the passenger door.
The ride home was agony. It wasn’t a long ride, but every wait along the way was excruciating. Her hand was on his thigh and he just wanted to stop and grab her, but he forced himself to concentrate on getting them home.
*
Jane couldn’t keep her hands off him. She just wanted to straddle him right there in the car, get him closer. She knew she’d lost all sense of perspective, but she didn’t care, she just needed him. Months of pent up frustration was coming to the fore. She didn’t want to question what this meant, she would leave that for later. Right now she just needed him.
Another elevator ride, then they were somewhere where they could be together. She needed his skin. Slipping off his suit jacket, she tugging his shirt out of his pants. Her fingers slipped up the front of his shirt undoing the buttons as she went, rewarding herself his glorious tanned skin. She ran her hands over the muscles of his abdomen. She didn’t have time to stop and admire, she needed him desperately. Pulling her close, he had her legs enveloping his hips bringing him to her aching centre. A sense of joy flooded her as she felt her bra come undone. She wanted to feel his chest to hers, feel his skin to hers. He was so warm and solid, and his lips had found that spot on her neck again, the one that had gotten them here.
Lying on the floor, his weight came on her. It felt so wonderful. She hoped he wasn’t going to take his time and tease her; she wasn’t up to it as she was so close to coming just from the friction alone. Fortunately, he was in a hurry too, his hands gently kneading her backside.
Pulling back, he undid the button of her pants, then pulled them and her underwear slowly down. Stopping half way, he let his hands roam over her thighs. She loved seeing the appreciation in
his eyes, but she needed his to hurry. She kicked her pants off and pulled him to her into a kiss. She felt him push into her, stretching and filling her, the most glorious feeling. She undulated her hips slightly to get him deeper, closer, and was rewarded with a groan before he pulled back and pushed hard into her. Her body could only tense, captive to the onslaught of sensation. He repeated it again and again, and she couldn’t do anything but try to manage the assault of sensations. She failed with the management part, her body building up, preparing itself as he worked in and out of her. She arched into her orgasm, the flood of pleasure flowing and ebbing with the beat of his thrusts. His thrusts slowed until he reached his release with a groan that sounded close to pain, before collapsing into her arms where they stayed while they recovered.
Jane watched him as he slowly got control of his breathing, his eyes closed so she felt she could just watch him for a moment. He was just so incredibly beautiful. She still hadn’t quite made her mind up about his eye colour, which seemed to change with his mood. His features were strong and perfect, and he looked so peaceful with his eyes closed. When they were open and his gaze fell on her, she felt the intensity in him. His cool intelligent regard kept her on edge. Seeing desire in those eyes was quite something, affecting her deeply because it was desire for her she’d seen.
She had no idea what this meant, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. He had quite clearly said that he was doing things he didn’t want to do. His desire for her had obviously compelled him, and it was definitely true for her. Her need for him had ripped through her defensive barrier, forcing her to act. Quite a situation they had gotten themselves into.
Feeling his gaze on her, she felt it almost like a physical thing, seeing deep into her—into her fears, dreams and insecurities. She wasn’t sure that was true, but it felt like it.
“So this is where you live,” she said.
“Yes,” he said and pulled back from her. “Let me give you the tour, starting with the bedroom.” He pulled her up by the hand and walked her through the living room with the glass wall showing a spectacular view of the harbour. The bedroom had the same glassed wall with the headboard of his large bed facing towards it.
He lay down and pulled her to him, into a kiss. She wasn’t sure she could ever get enough of these kisses. His hands roamed her skin, teasing every part of her. He was not in a hurry this time and Jane was soon raw with need, by which time she discovered how dexterous his tongue was.
*
He offered her a wine which she took as she stood in his living room, dressed in one of his shirts. He’d pulled on a pair of black pyjama pants. The realisation of what he’d just done was starting to sink in. He’d had her again, having sworn he wouldn’t, but he had to face the fact that he had a distinct weakness for her. Not only had he lost control, he’d gotten himself potentially into a world of trouble. The one rule was that you didn’t sleep with your direct reports, and he’d gone and done just that.
He didn’t think she was the kind who would use it against him—no, Jane played fair. She didn’t use things like this as leverage to get what she wanted—not everyone had her scruples. Now she stood in his living room with tousled hair and slightly swollen lips, looking completely irresistible. Seeing her like this, he could understand his weakness. She would tempt any man.
“Are you a star gazer or a people watcher?” she asked, indicating the telescope that stood close to the glass.
“It’s actually for the marina. I watch the sailing,” he said. “Don’t worry; it can’t see your house. I tried.” It was a piece of honesty he hadn’t planned on departing. She smiled behind the rim of her glass. Damn it, he was in trouble. She had him, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
He should be getting her out of there, driving her home; he just wasn’t doing it. He just liked watching her there, in his apartment, standing in his shirt. Her lovely thighs there for him to see—better than any art he’d ever seen. He loved her thighs, the slight curve of muscles. Now he needed to stop looking or he was going to take her again. The thought appealed—just ignoring the little problem of what to do with her, by just giving into the relentless craving for her. He always prided himself on facing problems head on.
“I’ll drive you home,” he forced himself to say. Nodding, she put the glass down and he watched as she dressed. He then put on the shirt she’d worn—her scent lingered in it. Sad as it was, he wanted to wear it. No, he wasn’t a total sad-sack, he told himself. He marched into his bedroom and pulled out a fresh shirt, refusing to revel in his weakness.
*
Jane watched him as he drove her home, knowing he wasn’t entirely happy. It wasn’t directed at her as he smiled whenever he looked at her, but when his gaze returned to the road, he wasn’t happy. She suspected he hadn’t planned on them spending the afternoon together, and wasn’t entirely pleased it had occurred. He was just so hard to work out.
Then again, she was the twit who slept with, what was now effectively, her boss. This was not a scenario that resulted in good things. This was the foundation for more than a few sob stories—not that she was going to sob, she absolutely refused. It was just sex, she told herself, with an extremely sexy man—what girl wouldn’t if they were in her situation? She wasn’t made of stone.
He gave her a kiss when they’d pulled up in front of her flat—gentle and sweet, going on for longer than strictly necessary. Like neither of them wanted to break it, because there may not be another. Jane finally got her goodbye kiss. It was sweet and perfect, maybe a little bittersweet.
Watching as he drove away, she was pretty sure he hadn’t changed his mind, about not wanting a girlfriend. He’d never promise or indicated anything else. It was just sex—spectacular sex, and another secret memory she could hold onto. She told herself she wasn’t going to be weird about it tomorrow; she was going to act like nothing had happened—people had sex all the time—there didn’t have to be meaning to it. She could just appreciate it for what it was, without getting tangled up in hurt feelings related to why he was the way he was—he just was and that was that. And he wasn’t her type anyway.
Closing the door to her flat, she took her shoes off. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d tried to act cool and aloof, but it was an act. She was completely caught up in this whole thing, practically hanging on his every word, and if he wanted to kiss her, she put up no objection at all, even knowing that he had no intentions of taking it further than an evening in his bed.
If she didn’t watch herself, she was going to be that girl that waited for the phone to ring, hoping he would drop by for a screw. The worst thing was, she didn’t think she could go back to the Xbox playing boyfriends, with secret fetishes for tattoos or vinyl stilettos or whatever—some guy whose idea of a night out was taking her for a greasy burger. Damon D’Arth had unfortunately raised the bar and she wasn’t sure she would be able to find someone who would make the cut. She’d tried to focus on the negative about him—he could be ruthless, intolerant and demanding, but it seemed to make no difference at all. Now she was going to have to sit and watch him reject her all over again. Served her right; she let this happen. She should never have come back from Sydney, but what was done was done and she would have to live with the consequences.
*
Jane nodded to him in the morning like she always did. He hadn’t known what to expect, but that hadn’t been it. She acted like the previous day was nothing out of the ordinary—like it had no meaning. He’d been tossing and turning all night worrying about it, trying to understand how he was going to deal with his inability to keep his pants on around her—nothing ever kept him from his sleep, so he was annoyed and angry. Compounded by the fact that he always seemed to be angry of late and it wasn’t his character. The slightest thing would infuriate him and he was known for keeping his cool.
He watched as she sat down and began scanning through her emails. She’d worn a skirt today and he saw himself running his hands up her thighs in t
he boardroom. Closing his eyes, he cursed himself, and his relentless imagination. This couldn’t go on, she was too distracting. He had to do something. Maybe he should go eat the breakfast that had seemed to turn his stomach that morning.
Getting up, he left, retreated down to the café in the lobby. He didn’t feel like returning back to the office where his problems were waiting, sitting on the other side of the project office. Down here he could breathe and get his thoughts under control. By the time he finished his coffee there was only one thing he could do. It would absolutely infuriate her, but he had no choice.
Leaving the building, he walked across the city until he got to the Grasshopper. As expected, Carmichael was there, responding to his email request for a meeting.
“What’s happened?” Carmichael said with concern.
“I need to talk about Jane,” Damon said.
“Is she alright?”
“She’s fine,” he said with an impatient gesture. “I need her off the project.”
Carmichael considered him for a while. “You know this was her project from the start.”
“I know, and I empathise, but I can’t work with her and she can’t close the project—the unfortunate consequence is that she has to go.”
“She will not be happy,” Carmichael said with a whistle.
“I can’t… I tried.” He wasn’t explaining his reasoning well.
“Is she remiss in her duties?” Carmichael had such an old fashioned way with words. She did deserve a reason, as did Carmichael. It was a drastic act and it wasn’t the result of incompetence.
“No, nothing like that,” he started. “I find her too distracting.”
“That is because you are in love with her,” Carmichael said as matter of fact.
Damon paused suddenly, his mouth dropping open. It was the most preposterous thing he’d ever heard. “I don’t think so.”
“You two have been pussyfooting around each other for a while. It was only a matter of time before things came to a head,” Carmichael said sympathetically. Screw his sympathy, Damon thought, he still wanted to hit something. He clenched his fists.
The Rules of the Game (D'Arth Series Book 1) Page 15
