Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  "Jo, no," I said. “If he was willing to put a virus on your phone and ruin your relationship with Holden just because he was jealous, what else would he do? He clearly has no moral compass, and if you'd kept quiet, you’d just be leaving him free to screw with somebody else's life later down the road. And maybe that time, it wouldn't work out. Maybe that time, there wouldn't be a Tate to step in and fix it. Maybe it would be someone's job on the line, or worse. You had to say something. And you shouldn't feel bad about it."

  "I know," she said, resting her head against Holden's chest. "I know. He's an enormous jerk, and I'm not sorry I punched him. And I guess I'm not sorry he might get kicked out of school. It's just that I know how hard we all worked to get in, and he'll never have a chance like this again. Plus, it makes me wonder what he'll do when he doesn't have anything left to lose."

  "Don't worry about that," Holden said, his voice hard. I noticed his eyes meet Tate's, and I got the feeling they were having an entire conversation without words.

  "We'll take care of that," Tate said. Jo let out a breath but didn't respond, seeming content to snuggle with Holden. I, on the other hand, wanted more of an explanation.

  "What are you going to do?" I asked.

  "We know people who can keep an eye on him," Tate said quietly, his blue eyes steady and serious.

  "What kind of people?" My imagination was running wild.

  "Have you heard of Sinclair Security?" Tate asked. I nodded. The name popped up in the news fairly often, usually in connection with high-profile clients like celebrities, politicians, and billionaires. "We grew up with them. The Sinclairs are like family, and on top of that, they handle all of our security work. Holden will let them know they need Darren on their radar. If he does anything even slightly sketchy, they'll have it covered."

  Jo leaned back and looked up at Holden's face, wonder and concern tangling in her eyes. "Holden, you can't do that. They can't just watch him forever. It's too expensive."

  "Nothing’s too expensive if it keeps you safe," Holden said, lifting a hand to run his thumb along her jaw, his warm brown eyes on hers. "Sinclair Security has a long list of people they monitor. Adding one more is no big deal, and we have them on retainer. If there’s an extra expense, I don't care. This guy is never going to bother you, or anyone else, again. Never."

  "Okay, Holden,” Jo said, her voice a little dreamy. Holden dropped his head to kiss her, and I looked away. I was happy for my best friend. No, not happy. I was thrilled, ecstatic, doing mental cartwheels every time I thought about her with Holden. But that kiss was getting a little too intimate. I remembered something she'd said about having sex on the kitchen island, and I involuntarily took a step back. When Tate's hand closed over my elbow, I jumped.

  "Relax, it's just me," he said. Tugging gently, he pulled me out of the kitchen and into the spacious living room with windows overlooking the city and a huge couch facing an equally large television. "Your roommate's cute, but if Holden's going to fuck her in the kitchen again, I don't think I want to watch. I'd rather be alone with you."

  At the look in his eyes, heated and intent, every muscle in my body tightened. Not in fear, but in anticipation. My head wasn’t sure about Tate, but my body knew what it wanted—more of Tate.

  5

  Tate

  Emily hovered beside the couch, clearly trying to figure out a way to put some space between us. If she sat first, she knew I'd sit next to her. Her hesitance was endearing. I wasn't used to shy women. I’d never found shyness appealing before, but with Emily, I liked it. I made it easy on her and chose a spot right in the middle of the wraparound couch. As I guessed she would, Emily sat catty corner to me on the other side. Close enough to be polite, but not close enough to touch. Oh well. Touching could come later.

  "Tell me about your game,” I said, partly to relax her and partly because I genuinely wanted to know. It wasn't often that I found myself attracted to a woman who was not only a gamer, but a game designer. Tech as an industry tended to be a boy’s club, and gaming was no exception. WGC made a point of hiring talented women, but the reality was that they were hard to find. Not enough females gravitated to the industry in the first place, and now that hiring women in tech had become a thing, it was even harder. Plus, whenever I met a woman in my industry, my instinct was to evaluate her as a potential hire. Not with Emily. I already knew, based on what she said she was studying, that she would be an ideal candidate for WGC. The company would have to do without her. I wanted Emily for myself.

  Her natural reserve melted away beneath her enthusiasm as she explained the changes she had planned for the sequel to her game. When she said she had a demo of the first level on her phone, I put out my hand.

  "Gimme," I said. Emily pulled her phone from her back pocket and stared at it for a moment. "Come on," I cajoled. "Just let me see the first level. Please? Pretty please?"

  Reluctantly, she handed me the phone, the screen already open to the game. The design was familiar. I could already see she hadn't made any fundamental changes, but the graphics were deeper, richer, and more detailed. She leaned forward on the sofa, her eyes moving between the screen and my face. As I'd hoped, she wanted to see my reaction to her creation more than she needed to preserve the distance between us. After a few moments, she got up and sat beside me.

  I don't know if it was perfume, her soap, or just Emily, but she smelled of the ocean, and something lightly floral. The heat of her leg pressing against mine and the fall of her silky dark hair against my arm were distracting. I forced myself to pay attention to the game, telling my cock to be patient. He would have his chance, I hoped, but not if he scared her off by getting hard the first time she sat next to me.

  My cock didn't listen. I was glad I was wearing jeans and leaning forward, and doubly glad her attention was on the phone in my hands and not my lap.

  I played my way through the first level, marveling at the way she’d stepped up the sophistication of the game for the second version. When she apologized for the graphics, saying they were still a little rough, I shook my head.

  "This is amazing," I said. "I wouldn't call it rough." I looked up to see her face only inches from mine, her gray eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. Her pulse thudded in her throat, and her pupils were dilated. It took everything I had not to kiss her. With any other woman, I would have had her flat on her back, her shirt halfway off. But with Emily, I knew I had to take it slow. Sometime before she left tonight, I was going to get my hands on her. Just not yet.

  I eased back a little, giving her space, and turned my focus back to the game. The first level was a little more challenging than I would have expected, not that I had any trouble finishing it. I handed back her phone and said, “It's great. You have to let me play the rest when it's done."

  "Thanks." At the sight of her cheeks flushed with pleasure, I stood, picking up our empty beers as I strode to the kitchen. I needed a little space before I did something I was going to regret. Slow, I reminded myself. You're taking it slow.

  "Do you want another beer?" I asked over my shoulder.

  Emily rose and followed me to the kitchen, saying, “Sure."

  I was relieved to see that Holden and Jo were not having sex on the island, but at some point, they had stopped making out and were cooking dinner together. Good. Not only was I hungry, but I needed a distraction from Emily, from her sweet scent and her pink cheeks. From the full lips I needed to kiss. From every inch of that curvy, luscious body. When was the last time I wanted a woman this much and had only touched her elbow? I was completely out of my depth with Emily. Everything about her was complicated and difficult. I never stopped to ask myself if she'd be worth it. I already knew she was.

  Dinner was good. Pasta with seafood, and Jo had made bruschetta that was delicious. I barely tasted it, more interested in watching Emily interact with the rest of us. She was initially quiet, but as she got comfortable with the rhythm of the conversation, she joined in. I was pretty sure she was enjoyi
ng herself. Jo and Holden were almost nauseatingly adorable, teasing each other, holding hands under the table, and generally acting like a couple newly in love.

  Emily had a third beer with dinner, choosing not to try the wine she’d brought, saying that she had the taste of beer in her mouth and switching would be weird. I don't know why I found that cute, but I did. Jo got up to clear our plates, and Emily joined her. I caught her saying something about the bathroom and knew this was my chance. She hadn't had enough to drink to be drunk, or even tipsy, but she was relaxed and as comfortable as I'd ever seen her. If I was going to make a move, now was the time.

  I was waiting for her at the end of the hall when she came out of the bathroom, just out of sight of Holden and Jo in the kitchen. Her face when she saw me waiting was priceless. Nerves, confusion, and excitement all swirled through her eyes, and I watched her trying to decide what to do. I didn't give her a choice, catching her by the arm and pulling her to me, turning her back to the wall. She was taller than average, but I was still bigger.

  How to trap someone without making them feel trapped? That was the challenge. If I waited for Emily to come to me, I'd be an old man, still wanting her. It was in my nature to take charge, but I didn't need Jo's warning to know that if I was too aggressive, I was going to scare her off.

  She looked up at me and said, "Tate?"

  I didn't answer, not with words. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to push me away, I dropped my head. Triumph surged through me when, instead of ducking to the side, she raised her lips to mine.

  I brushed my mouth across hers in a kiss so light it almost wasn't, before I went back a second time, lingering. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a soft puff of breath. I skimmed my lips across her eyelids, her forehead, and each rounded cheekbone before they landed back on hers.

  This time, I kissed her a little harder, opening her lips with my tongue. She gasped, her body melting into mine, and I wondered for a second if she'd ever been kissed before. There was something untouched about Emily. She was so unpracticed, every response genuine and unstudied. I dipped my tongue in her mouth again, rubbing it against hers, coaxing her open to me. Needing more, I wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her to me, burying my fingers in her hair, and tilting her face to mine.

  At the hesitant brush of her tongue, I thought I was going to lose it. It took everything I had to keep the kiss from spinning out of control. My cock was a steel bar. I wanted to pick her up and pin her to the wall, to grind myself against her and make her come through her jeans. I wanted to carry her out of Holden's place and across the hall to mine, to lay her across my bed and strip her naked and fuck her until she screamed.

  I rubbed my tongue against hers, trying to keep my hands gentle. This was supposed to be a seduction. If I showed her what I really wanted, I would scare the hell out of her. Later. There would be time for that later as long as I didn't fuck it up now.

  I had two choices—I could stop the kiss, or I could find a way to dial it back before it spun out of control. I wasn't ready to end my first taste of Emily, so I dropped the arm I'd wrapped around her back and raised my hand to cup her chin, holding her face in my hands. My gut clenched when she raised her hands to my waist, keeping me where I was—not pulling me against her, but holding me close. If it was a victory, I’d take it.

  I kissed her and kissed her, my mouth feasting on hers, tasting her, absorbing every breath, every whimper, every quiet moan, until we heard a voice say, "Emily?"

  Then, "Jo, shut up."

  “Holden.” A giggle and what sounded like a smack.

  I raised my head and stared down at Emily, feeling almost as dizzy and disoriented as she looked. Her eyes were wide, her pupils huge, her lips kiss-swollen and red. Pressing my advantage, I whispered, “Have dinner with me. Don't say no, Emily."

  "Yes," she said in a dazed voice.

  "Tomorrow."

  "Okay, tomorrow," she agreed.

  I went back for one more quick kiss before I said, “You won't regret it. I promise."

  I hoped I was telling her the truth.

  6

  Emily

  At six o’clock Monday night, I opened the door of my apartment to see Tate leaning against the door frame, wearing jeans and an un-tucked blue button-down a few shades lighter than his eyes, his dark hair falling over his forehead. At the sight of him, my knees literally went weak. What was I doing? I didn't date. I've never had a boyfriend, and the night before had been my first real kiss. Now, I was going out to dinner with Tate Winters? It was insane.

  Okay, I’d been kissed before. Hasty, fumbling attempts by boys as nervous as I was. Mostly, they were short, sloppy, and not repeated. Nothing like kissing Tate. That had been . . . I didn't have words. When I thought about that kiss, I saw starbursts of color and felt how hard my heart had pounded and the way my body had softened and melted into his. I wanted to be as close to him as I could, needing his hands on my skin.

  He was going to expect more. I wasn't completely naïve, even though I was innocent, at least in terms of real-life experience. Men like Tate Winters did not go on platonic dates, and that kiss was a clear indication that platonic was not what he had in mind. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. I was terrified, though it was refreshing that, for the first time in memory, I wasn't afraid of having a panic attack. These nerves were different. I wasn’t anxious. I was a brand new combination of anticipation, excitement, and the fear that I was going to make a total fool of myself.

  It was too late to back out, not that I was going to. I opened my door to Tate, and he held out his hand for mine, saying, "Are you ready?"

  I was not. I was not even remotely ready to go on a date with Tate Winters, but I wasn't going to admit it.

  I grabbed my purse and keys off the table beside the door and took his hand. "I'm ready," I lied.

  At least I looked good. In a role reversal, Jo had helped me get dressed. She correctly assumed that I was going to wimp out and wear something conservative. When I picked a pretty but demure cream-colored, cap-sleeved sweater, she'd snatched it out of my hands and handed me a hot pink, V-neck, slinky top with three-quarter sleeves and a high low hem. The shirt was made of a silk/modal blend that was soft and clingy.

  It was way too sexy, especially when she handed me a push-up bra in the same hot pink. Why did I buy underwear like this when no one ever saw it? Maybe because I secretly hoped that one day I'd be going on a date with a guy who would deserve sexy underwear. Now that the day was here, I was sorely tempted to dive under the covers of my bed and ignore it. If I tried to look too sexy, was I sending the wrong message?

  I liked Tate. Understatement. I really liked Tate. He was smart. He was unbelievably attractive. Just kissing him had been better than my hottest fantasies of sex, and he hadn't even touched me beneath my clothes. But I wasn't ready to have sex with him. I’d looked at the top and skirt Jo was holding and shook my head in indecision.

  "Em, honey, you can't wear jeans and a T-shirt for your date. It's not you."

  "That cream sweater is me," I protested.

  "Not for a date, it's not," Jo said. "You bought this." She held up the pink top and the pink push-up bra in one hand, and the long, Navy, stretchy skirt in the other.

  "I know . . ."

  "Honey," she said gently, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You just need to be yourself. And you know you don't want to wear job interview clothes on a date. You know you don't."

  I took the clothes from Jo and put them on. She was right. She usually was. I didn't want to wear frumpy clothes to go out with Tate, and I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't trust him on some level.

  So here I was, holding his hand and walking down the hallway of my apartment building, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. He seemed to know how nervous I was, because he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling me about his day and asking me about mine, until I relaxed. At least, until we pulled up in front o
f his building.

  "I thought we were going out to dinner,” I said.

  "We are," he said. "And no, I'm not taking you to my place. Not exactly."

  He pulled his car into the parking garage behind the building, coming around to open my door after he'd stopped the car. He reached down and took my hand to help me out, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips before stepping back and saying, “You look beautiful."

  "Thanks, so do you," I said, then squeezed my eyes shut. He did look beautiful, but you weren't supposed to call a man beautiful. I waited for him to laugh at me.

  He said, “Thank you,” without a hint of amusement in his voice. Something inside me relaxed just a little.

  I followed him into the elevator, wondering where we were going. When we stopped on the fourth floor, the door slid open to reveal a lobby, the letters WGC on the wall.

  "We’re eating here?" I asked. " Really?"

  "I said I'd show you around if you agreed to have dinner with me, and I always keep my promises."

  "Really?" I asked again, speechless with excitement. "Are you going to show me what you've been working on?"

  "Some of it," Tate said. "But you have to sign an NDA first. Not very romantic, sorry, but there’s stuff I can't show you without it. Unless you don't want to see . . ."

  "I figured I'd have to sign a nondisclosure if I could get you to show me anything. I'll sign, absolutely. I can keep my mouth shut."

  Tate led me through the doors and into the silent office. The lights were dim or off in most of the workstations.

  "There are usually a few people working after hours," he said. "But tonight, I told them all to get out and go home. If anyone shows up, they're fired."