It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

by Kylie Scott

“Let me know if that changes.”

  “Alright.”

  God only knows the amount of crap that would circulate if people knew we were together. If we were together. We were something; I just wasn’t sure what. One problem at a time.

  “I’ll make a couple of calls, then we’ll deal with your questions,” he said, heading into his office.

  It was probably wrong to ogle the boss, but he did all sorts of good things for the company polo shirt, cargo pants, and steel-tipped boots. Seriously.

  “Adele!” he yelled, almost as soon as he had entered the room. “Come in here, please.”

  I switched the phone to go to voicemail and smoothed down my plain black cotton fit-and-flare retro-style dress. Business wear hadn’t really been on my mind when I’d packed. Plus, I needed to do some laundry. It might have been a bit casual, but with the sandals, a silver cuff bracelet, and slick ponytail I daresay I looked alright. Competent, even. I mean, I didn’t particularly feel that way confronted with Helga’s indecipherable kingdom of information, but it was nice to at least appear as if I had a clue.

  When I stood in the doorway, he looked up from behind his desk. “Leona called?”

  “Yes.”

  He just stared at me.

  “I wasn’t rude or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said. “I don’t even think she realized it was me. Guess she wasn’t expecting me to be answering the phone.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “Just that she wanted to talk to you.”

  He’d dumped his sunglasses, tablet, and other assorted crap to the side of his desk. The man was actually quite neat and organized. His office had simple, solid furniture and a bookcase full of files and such. And right now, he was sitting back in his executive-type chair, watching me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Close the door.”

  I frowned, but did as asked.

  “Lock it.”

  “We’re both busy,” I said. “If we need to talk about this, can we please do so later?”

  He pushed out of his chair, coming around the desk. “You’re stressed.”

  “I’ve got a lot to do.” I crossed my arms. “And getting everything organized and ready for the temp is important to me.”

  Reaching around me, he flipped the lock. “Are you upset that she called?”

  I shrugged. “Are you going to call her back?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “You answer the question,” I said, my voice hardening.

  He stared into my eyes like he could read my mind or something. God, I hoped he couldn’t.

  “At the wedding, she said she’d call you after a few days,” I said. “I expected this.”

  “That doesn’t tell me how you feel.”

  “And none of this tells me if you intend to call her back or not.”

  “Such attitude from my newest employee,” he said, face blank. Unreadable.

  “Answer the question, Pete.” Frustration boiled over, my hands curling into fists. “Well?”

  He said nothing.

  “Why are you being such an ass about this?”

  He tipped his chin. “You talk to your boss with that mouth?”

  “I suck his cock with this mouth.”

  For a moment, he closed his eyes, licked his lips. “Fucking hell, you’re a handful.”

  “Not up to the job? That’s a pity.”

  “Oh, beautiful,” he said, getting in my space, a dark sort of warning in his gaze. “You have no idea.”

  His mouth slammed down on mine, tongue demanding entrance. And I gave; I’d always give to him. I couldn’t do anything but give. Despite all the distractions of Leona’s call, and Helga’s numerology, and every other stressor that should have been battering around my mind, there was only space for him. Teeth smashed and tongues tangled, heads angling to get closer and closer still. He kissed me breathless, crushing all of the doubts and fears I hadn’t even wanted to acknowledge. His hands held my face, slid down my neck, his hot mouth following. One hand held the back of my neck while the other pulled down the strap of my dress, clearing the way for his hot kisses. Fingers kneaded my breast through the fabric of my dress, mouth sucking. I tugged on his hair, holding him to me. As making out in a workplace went, it was my first time and a clear winner.

  Right up until someone knocked at the door. We both froze.

  “Boss, you in there?” a voice called.

  “What’s up?”

  “Question about the Meriel site.”

  “Be there in five, Neil,” said Pete. “Just need to finish going over some things with Adele.”

  “Got it.” Heavy boots clomped away.

  Hands on my waist, he walked me farther into the room. “Bend over my desk. This is going to have to be quick.”

  “W-what?”

  “Now, please.” He turned me around, urging me to lean over the table with a hand to my back. Then the back of my skirt was flipped up, my panties pulled down to my knees. He wasn’t messing around.

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Is that a no?” he asked, pausing.

  “Of course not.” I widened my stance. “Hurry up before someone else comes.”

  “Just checking. Remember, you’ve got to keep quiet.”

  Then the palm of his hand struck my butt cheek and holy shit. I had to bite my lip to keep in the yelp. My breasts pushed against the desk surface, lungs fighting for air. All of the muscles in my legs tensed, ass tipping up for more. He smacked the other side, warming my whole ass. No doubt turning it pink. Him and the spanking thing. I’d complain if only I didn’t enjoy it so much.

  “I like this view, Adele.”

  I’d have given him a sarcastic reply, but my thoughts had scattered. Words lost.

  “Are you wet, beautiful?”

  “Mm-hm.” I nodded.

  He reached around under my stomach, feeling for my clit, the lips of my sex. The tips of his fingers stroking and caressing, turning me on even more. And all the while, his hard-on, still bound by his clothing, rubbed against my ass. Gently, he eased two fingers into me, pumping them slowly. But there was no time for foreplay. Once he’d satisfied himself as to my readiness, he drew back. Next came the sounds of belt buckle and zipper.

  I trembled with anticipation. Impossible not to, knowing what I knew. The man had serious talents. Though it did annoy the crap out of me, not being able to see much. Pete looked extremely good even partially naked. But bent over at the angle I was, there was no hope of twisting around far enough to get an eyeful. I was missing out big-time. Still, facing the desk, not being able to watch, to know what he was up to, provided its own thrill.

  The broad head of his cock prodded at my entrance. I raised my hips, pushing back. With one hard thrust, he filled me.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel even more amazing every time. No wonder I can’t get enough.”

  He drew back, slamming in harder, giving me no time to catch my breath. With my ponytail wrapped around his fist, the man fucked me in earnest. I was pummeled with sensation. His cock rubbed amazing things deep inside me, hitting some sublime spot at this angle. My breasts bumped against the table, time and again. Everything in my core blazing and bright. His hips smacked into my ass and my teeth sunk into my lip, keeping all of my moans and groans inside. We really did need to discuss some things. But in the meantime, hard sex, this pounding, made for a wonderful method of communication. I rose up on tippy-toes, pushing back, taking all that he had to give.

  “That’s it,” he growled.

  When he reached under, searching out my clit again, I was done for. One stroke, two . . .

  “Pete!” I cried out. Softly I hope.

  Eyelids squeezed shut, a plethora of stars exploded inside me. My body, my mind. All of me was awash with fucking euphoria. An endless swell of bliss, rising inside me. My orgasm triggered his, hips crashing into me. He buried his cock as deep as he could, the grip on me vicelike. It wa
s perfect.

  He stroked my back, my bare thighs. Then he pulled out and I heard the sounds of him getting dressed. It took me a minute to find the energy to get off his desk. By the time I did, he was already tugging up my panties, smoothing down my skirt.

  “I’ve never had sex in a workplace before,” I said, voice still a little rough. “I hear that sort of thing is generally frowned upon.”

  Arms went around my middle, drawing me back against him. “It was important.”

  “Hm.”

  He kissed my neck, my cheek. “Tell me, Adele. Do you think I’m calling other women?”

  “I’m guessing the answer is no.”

  “Damn right it is,” his voice rumbled in my ear, his hold tightening. “She and I are through. Told her everything I had to say the other night. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I wouldn’t disrespect you that way.”

  I swallowed. “Got it.”

  “Good,” he said. Then he frowned. “Did you bite my financial reports?”

  “You said to be quiet.”

  He turned me around, inspecting me. The pad of his thumb rubbed over my bottom lip, his knuckles swept down my cheek. I took the opportunity to finger-comb his hair back into place, more than a little pleased with his disheveled appearance. Inside my head, his words went round and round. He wouldn’t be calling her. He wouldn’t disrespect me that way. It had to be important, significant. Surely it meant he was mine.

  “Hey, I heard from Helga’s family,” he said quietly. “She’s stable, doing better.”

  “That’s good. I’ve been worried.”

  “You look much less stressed.” He smiled, kissing me lightly on the lips. A certain sort of male satisfaction filled his gaze. “In fact, you look distinctly well fucked.”

  “Ego, Pete.”

  “Not at all. It’s important to take pride in a job done well.”

  I just smiled.

  “And tonight, I’ll do you again,” he said, voice a low rumble “Only, slower and louder this time.”

  I licked my swollen lips. “You will, huh? I’ll look forward to that.”

  “I think we should trade bad sex stories.”

  Pete looked up from his steak and salad, brow raised.

  “You know, as part of our adult getting-to-know-each-other stage,” I said, pausing to take a sip of wine. So I may have had a few glasses. It’d been a hard day in all the ways.

  “That’s honestly the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “What? Why?”

  He just went back to chewing.

  “I’ve been walked in on by a roommate. Broken a bed. Accidentally bit a guy, and one dude pulled his back really bad when we were trying to bang against a wall,” I said. “Had to drive him to the hospital, the poor thing.”

  Pete dropped his cutlery, staring off at nothing. Such a pained face.

  “Your turn.” I grinned.

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “Why not?” I asked. Whined. Whatever.

  He held up a finger. “Firstly, I fucking hate the thought of someone else touching you.”

  “You’re jealous? That’s so sweet.”

  His expression said he did not agree.

  “What are the other reasons?”

  “Secondly.” Another finger joined the first. “You’re my woman. I’m supposed to impress you so you think I’m perfect and can do no wrong. That’s my job, here. Not making myself look like an incompetent fool.”

  “Yeah . . . problem is, I know you too well for that,” I said. “Will you settle for me thinking you’re near perfect and insanely hot?”

  He thought about it, then nodded. “Sure. That’ll work.”

  “I still want to hear your stories, though.”

  “Not going to happen.” He picked the cutlery back up, finishing the last of the food on his plate. “Do you talk about this stuff with other men?”

  “No, of course not,” I said, scrunching up my nose. “These stories are embarrassing.”

  “So I’m just lucky, basically.”

  “I trust you.” I shrugged. “And I’m used to talking with you about pretty much everything.”

  He shook his head. “I never did know what to say when you used to complain about your period.”

  “You would get this expression in your eyes. Raw panic, I think?” I laughed. “Those were good times.”

  He gave me a dour look.

  “You do realize, I just used to do that to mess with you.”

  “I do now,” he said.

  “Oh, please. You loved it when I visited and shook up your dull, staid, organized little world.”

  “Yeah, I did.” One side of his mouth drew up in a hint of a smile. “Okay. How did you break the bed?”

  “Well, this was during university,” I said. “It was one of those single pine beds and I guess there was too much activity going on for the old thing. Some of the slats in the bottom gave way and the mattress just fell straight through. Made quite the clatter.”

  His smile grew.

  “Your turn!”

  “No.”

  “Come on, just one.”

  “Give up, Adele. It’s not going to happen.”

  I smiled at him and he smiled at me, and shit. I was lost all over again. Feelings were the worst. “I bought you birthday cards every year and never sent them. Isn’t that weird?”

  His gaze softened. “No, not really.”

  “I still have them all in a box in my room back home.”

  “Did you write on them?”

  “Yes.” I exhaled. “That’s where the bad poetry is hidden.”

  “Maybe you could give them to me sometime?”

  I nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

  Silence.

  “How did you accidentally bite someone?” he asked, the tone of voice similar to if I’d just confessed to murder.

  “Ah, well . . .”

  “On the dick, right?”

  “Of course. Anywhere else is just playing.”

  His gaze turned hooded.

  “We were messing around after dinner at his place,” I said. “I crawled under the table to give him a blow job. Only there was not as much room as I was thinking. He got excited and his knee jerked and hit me, and . . .”

  “Ouch.”

  “It honestly wasn’t that bad.” I sighed. “No blood or anything. We put ice on it and the swelling went straight down.”

  “Funny that,” he said drily.

  “Ha-ha.” My alcohol buzz had morphed into a lovely full-body warmth. Between it and the company, there was probably little I wouldn’t say or do. He always had been dangerous for me to be around in all the ways.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Would you prefer me more socially acceptable? All polite and filtered?”

  He shook his head just once. “Absolutely not.”

  I said nothing.

  Without a word, he rose from his seat and walked around the table. Out in the dark, an owl hooted from the shadows of a nearby tree. On the ground, the citrus lamps smoked, casting shadows across the decking. Another perfect summer night. Yet something inside me felt unsettled, uneasy. Like amongst all of the silliness I’d exposed too much somehow. Nothing worse than accidentally letting all your insecurities hang out. How unsightly.

  Pete knelt beside my chair, face serious. “Look at me, Adele.”

  I did so.

  “I want you. Nothing watered down or held back,” he said. “Every crazy thought in your head, every bizarre story you’ve got to tell . . . I want to hear them all.”

  “I want you too.” I trailed my fingers down the side of his face, along the smooth skin beside his eye and over his cheekbones. The rough of his stubble. He turned his head, pressing his mouth to the palm of my hand.

  “Come inside, beautiful.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Seven Years Ago

  “Come with me,” I said, dragging him down the empty hallway.r />
  All around us were the sounds of the party. Loud talking and louder music. The vibrations of many feet thumping across the floor. Dad had said the party was for me. Most of the people, however, were his friends from work and assorted neighbors. The cake had been a nice touch, but all of them were really just celebrating New Year’s.

  “What’s going on?” asked Pete.

  “Let’s get somewhere quiet where we can talk.” The minute my hand touched the doorknob, he dragged us both to a halt.

  “Hold up—we don’t need to go in your room. Tell me whatever it is here.”

  “But—”

  “Adele, what is it?”

  I frowned, the whole world sort of hazy, care of the amount of alcohol I’d consumed. Rum was maybe not my friend after all. But I’d needed the liquid courage to finally make my move. To stake my claim. God knows, I’d spent hours on my hair and makeup. Birthday money had paid for the blue halter-neck dress and heels. For once, Pete hadn’t brought a date. Everything was as perfect as it would ever be. The timing was right. Tonight would most definitely be the night.

  This was right. You couldn’t feel so much for someone and have it not be right.

  “Kid?” He leaned closer, his own grin warm and easy, scotch on his breath. “They’re going to count down to midnight soon. Don’t you want to be out on the deck for that with everyone else?”

  This was harder than I’d thought it would be.

  “Hey,” he said, voice heartbreakingly gentle. “You okay?”

  I smashed my mouth against his. No holding back. No hesitation. For a moment, Pete just froze. Then he grabbed my upper arms, pushing me back.

  “What the fuck?” he said, face confused, startled.

  “I love you,” I blurted out. “I want us to be together. Think about it, Pete, I mean . . . doesn’t that make sense?”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Who knows you better than me?” I carried on, refusing to be deterred. It was do or die. “We couldn’t before, but I’m old enough—”

  His brows descended, forehead filled with lines. “You’re just a child.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes. You are.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I am not!” And to prove it, I tugged at the tie on my dress. Material fell down, exposing my more than adequate rack. Tada, breasts!