To Have and to Hate

by R.S. Grey

  He leans back in his chair, assessing me now. I hate how confident he looks behind that fancy ol’ desk, how little my presence has thrown him off. I wanted to have the upper hand for a moment, but it seems that won’t be the case.

  “Why’d you come to my office? Just to bring me lunch?”

  “Well that, and I haven’t seen you all week. You seem intent on being here all day every day, so I thought I’d come to you.”

  “I do sleep at the apartment,” he points out, as if wanting me to know.

  “Is that an invitation?” I ask, not quite recognizing this version of myself. His eyes spark with something, and I smile innocently. “Just kidding.”

  God this is hard. My survival instincts want me to abort my mission and run right back to the apartment. I could hide in the library, work on my art, and never have to worry about putting my heart on the line.

  Showing up here like this, openly flirting with him…well, there are only two possible outcomes, and I’m worried I’m headed for a world of hurt.

  I walk forward and set the paper bag on his desk with a thunk, then I look around me in search of a comfy chair. There’s one behind me, but dissatisfied with its location, I start pushing it around the side of Walt’s desk.

  “What are you doing?”

  I pause. “Coming to sit by you. I’m not going to sit over there like I’m one of your employees. That’s weird.”

  “Here, let me,” he says, standing up to steal the chair from me.

  Then, like it’s made of marshmallow, he lifts it up easily and carries it over to set it down beside his chair. Voilà.

  I take a seat and cross my legs, straightening my skirt. He’s watching me like a hawk, making me blush.

  “What?”

  He shakes his head and looks away. “Nothing.”

  “I met your assistant just now. I like her.” He doesn’t respond, so I continue, “Y’know, I could play the part of the jealous wife and point out the fact that she’s very pretty.”

  “April?” he asks, unmoved by my observation. “She’s young.”

  I bite back my smile.

  “I’m young.”

  His gaze flits back to me, jumping from my legs to my skirt. Then his eyes meet mine for only a moment before he seems to come to some conclusion. “You’re a different kind of young.”

  I blush and lean over to drag the paper bag toward us.

  “I appreciate you bringing me lunch, but I have a meeting with the quality control department in half an hour,” he says, sounding brusque.

  “So then we’ll eat fast.”

  I stand up and step forward so I’m wedged between him and his desk. I start unloading our lunch, making it clear I won’t be deterred by his meeting or even by the fact that there’s not much room on his desk for our food. He’s forced to clear away papers quickly before I cover them with our sandwiches and side dishes.

  “No, please, make yourself at home,” he mocks as I push his keyboard aside.

  “Well what am I supposed to do? There’s not any room. You’re usually much neater than this.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been distracted lately. No, don’t move that. I like my mouse to sit right there.”

  I laugh under my breath. “It must irk you so much.”

  “What?”

  “Me. It’s so obvious how much I get under your skin. I can feel how much you want me to get out of your hair.”

  I glance behind me, and my smile immediately freezes once I see Walt leaning back in his chair, his gaze intently focused on the back of my legs, right where my skirt cuts off.

  He doesn’t make any attempt to look away or conceal the fact that he’s openly checking me out. He just slides his gaze up to mine arrogantly slow.

  “You don’t get under my skin nearly as much as you think you do.”

  My eyes narrow, and I turn back around to refocus my attention on our lunch.

  “Do you want me to prove it?” he asks as he reaches out and skims his hand around my leg, cupping it just above my knee so his fingers send tingles down my spine.

  I freeze, suddenly finding it hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. His hand teases the hem of my skirt, just barely dipping beneath the fabric.

  “I’m surprised you’re offering. I assumed you wanted to leave well enough alone. You’ve made it clear you don’t want to pursue anything with me.”

  “Because that’s in your best interest,” he says, brushing his hand slightly higher. “You’re technically under contract with me. Our marriage was brokered by my lawyer. Or have you forgotten that?”

  “How could I?” I ask, my chest rising and falling in quick succession.

  “Good. So we should keep things platonic and easy.”

  “Platonic and easy,” I repeat, waiting for him to remove his hand.

  When he doesn’t, I bite down on a sinister smile.

  Twenty-Two

  “What’s the real reason you came to my office today, Elizabeth?”

  “To bring you lunch.”

  “All right then let’s eat,” he says, like he’s testing me. He wants me to break the connection first, to make it easier for him.

  “No.”

  Silence follows, seconds stretching to years as I wait.

  His hand leaves my leg. Behind me, he slowly rises to his feet. At his full height, I’m outmatched. He steps forward and his chest brushes my back. Another step and I’m wedged between him and the edge of the desk.

  Now, suddenly, this feels dangerous.

  We’re at the point of no return.

  With a grip of ownership, he returns his hand to the front of my thigh in a possessive grip, then slowly he slides it higher.

  “I’ve warned you,” he whispers, almost like he’s angry.

  It’s hard to breathe as he drags his hand up the inside of my thigh like a tease.

  “You aren’t going to run for the door?” he asks.

  I tip my chin up and let my head fall back against his chest.

  He leans down to press a kiss to the side of my neck. It’s gentle and fleeting. I barely feel it and still my heart races wildly. I’m waiting, hoping. God, I’m scared about what will happen, but more than that, I’m scared that nothing will happen. I’m scared there’s still a “but we can’t” waiting for me. That all at once, he’ll snuff out the match we’ve just lit.

  I turn my head to the side so I can peer up at him.

  His brown eyes assess me with a sultry glare and his grip tightens even more. I swear he’s weighing his options, as if even now, he still might walk away.

  My eyes narrow as if to say, Do it already, and slowly, a devious smile spreads across his lips just as his hand dips between my upper thighs. He’s so close to touching me where I’m desperate for it. So close.

  “Now…what’s the real reason you came to my office today, Elizabeth?”

  His arrogance makes it impossible for me to give him the real, vulnerable answer.

  “To say hi.”

  He chuckles again.

  “So that’s the story you’re sticking to? Because this skirt says something different.”

  I shiver as a blush spreads across my body. I hate that I’m that easy to figure out. I hate that he spoke the words out loud, and worse, I hate that I can’t refute them.

  “I’ve owned this skirt for years,” I fire back, trying to deflect.

  “And yet…I think you wore it to my office today because you wanted this to happen.”

  I don’t argue, and he rewards me with honesty of his own.

  “I’ll go to bed tonight dreaming of you in this skirt,” he says, barely above a whisper.

  Then his hand finally slides up between my legs, right over the middle of my panties. My back arches away from his chest as I ache for him to continue.

  Just the barest touch is almost too much. It’s been too long, my body too starved, too impatient.

  He keeps my panties in place, covering me as his finger glides across me. The bar
rier makes me even more needy, like I’m seconds away from breaking out in a sweat. Panting. Angry. Pleading. Just…touch me! I want to shout. Instead, I pinch my eyes closed, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

  His hard length brushes against me, and my breath catches in my chest. He doesn’t stop touching me over my panties even as I wiggle against him impatiently.

  He takes my left hand and drops it on the edge of the desk so I can support myself as he starts to bend me forward at an angle. I open my eyes and set my other hand down too as he steps back.

  Jesus.

  This is wildly inappropriate. I shouldn’t be here, posed this way for him. I can feel cool air brushing the back of my thighs as he pushes the hem of my skirt up and over my hips. I know how exposed I am to him like this. I can imagine the way my panties cut across my butt, revealing more than concealing. This position gives him so much power and yet heat gathers and grows as he stays where he is, taking me in. I feel so vulnerable and still, my body more than prepared when he reaches out, hooks a finger in either side of my underwear, and starts to tug them down my legs.

  “Don’t move,” he instructs harshly, his voice hoarse with need.

  My panties fall to my knees and then they drop to my ankles, so delicate and sweet compared to my black boots.

  He steps back, breaking our connection, and I squeeze my eyes closed, realizing then how much I’m trembling. This pose is a hair’s breadth away from humiliating, especially when he keeps his distance, almost lazily looking at me like I’m a possession propped up on a shelf, his to look at.

  “Elizabeth.”

  I don’t move a muscle. Just like he asked.

  With a groan he mostly stifles under his breath, he comes toward me and gathers me up off of the desk, hauls me against him, and wraps a hand around my stomach to keep me in place. Then he reaches down and slides his right hand between my thighs to cover me reverently, finally skin to skin. His hand teases between my legs as I try to keep them from buckling underneath me.

  I’m slick with need, and he only makes it worse. There’s no easing or dousing the desire building up inside of me. One touch makes me burn for another. I’m a mouse with a cookie, wanting more.

  His hard length is impossible to ignore, but there’s not enough room for me to reach my hand between us and do anything about it. He has us pressed body to body. Besides, I don’t think he wants that. He seems intent on running the show, touching me, pleasing me.

  I let my head fall back against his chest again and his lips find my neck at the precise moment his middle finger presses inside me. I squeeze my eyes closed and see black stars behind my closed lids.

  It’s earth-shattering when he slides his finger out and back in a second time, then a third. God, it feels good to have him touch me this way, to finally know what it feels like. Already, I’m too close. Too certain I’m about to break into pieces.

  He wants me to. He encourages it as his mouth moves up my neck to cover my pulse point. He tugs me back harder against him, his breaths hot and heavy. He’s as impatient as I am. He adds a second finger then pumps them in and out again and again, rubbing circles, picking up the pace as my breaths hitch and spill out of me in whimpers. My hand tightens on his forearm as it stretches across my stomach. My other hand winds around the back of his neck, holding him down against me with my fingers gripping his hair.

  There’s no need to tell him I’m close. He knows.

  I come with a rush of sensation so overpowering it makes me weak. Tingles spread from my toes up my legs. I’m lost in it as it drags on, a firework of sensations dousing me so totally that I don’t realize I’m crying out until Walt’s hand covers my mouth. He laughs gently, enjoying himself.

  “You’re going to get us caught.”

  My eyes pop open and I freeze, reality racing to catch up to the current moment like a rubber band snapping back into place.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand once he moves his away. I turn to glance up at him, hoping he realizes I mean it. I didn’t come here to cause trouble. I don’t want to make it awkward for him with his employees.

  “It’s fine,” he assures me, brushing the hair back from my face. “My assistant can’t hear anything. The doors are thick and the walls are well insulated. I value my privacy.” Then his hand curves around my cheek to lift my chin. His eyes catch on my mouth. “Even still…better safe than sorry.”

  He lets go of my waist, and I regain my footing as I glance down. My skirt is askew and the material is still hiked up so that my upper thighs are exposed. Quickly, I shove it back down as Walt leans down to get my panties. He hands them over to me discreetly, but even still, my face is on fire.

  “Elizabeth?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why won’t you look at me?”

  I have no response for that.

  “Do you regret what we just did?”

  “No!”

  “Then are you embarrassed?” he asks me, bending over a bit to try to catch my gaze.

  I don’t let him.

  “Extremely.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  I turn away and tug my panties back on in a rush, nearly ripping them down the middle when they get caught on one of my boots. I’m immediately grateful once they’re covering me again. I right my skirt, fix the bow, and adjust my shirt back into place.

  After, I immediately start gathering my things.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving. Obviously.”

  “We have time to eat. My meeting isn’t for another fifteen minutes.”

  We didn’t even take the full half hour?! Oh god. Good to know I was that easy.

  I’m moving around quickly now, trying to push my chair back to where I found it, but Walt reaches out and grabs the back, keeping it right where it is.

  “Sit down. You’re being silly.”

  My jaw drops and finally, I look over at him. The man doesn’t look the least bit fazed by what just happened. I know I can’t say the same for myself. I cringe thinking of what I must look like at the moment.

  “I’m not being silly. I’m just…”

  “Rushing off.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well stop. Sit down and eat. You were shaking a second ago. You could probably use the food.”

  I resist the urge to snort. I wasn’t shaking because I was hungry and we both know it.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he says before he goes into the en-suite bathroom in his office.

  My eyes immediately dart to the door and I consider fleeing, but I haven’t made up my mind about it before he walks back out, drying his hands with paper towels.

  “I really have to go.”

  He’s nearly smiling now. I can tell he’s repressing it for my sake. “Because of what we just did?”

  “Yes.”

  My eyes look anywhere but at him.

  “You act like you’ve never done that before.”

  “I have!” I say in a rush, not wanting him to think I’ve spent my life inside a nunnery. “It’s just been…a while.”

  Also, I don’t think you can compare clumsy college-dorm-room sex to what just occurred in this office with Walt. I just catapulted myself into the big leagues, and I’m not quite sure how I’ll survive now.

  He walks toward me, and my body goes on full alert for half a second before he passes in front of me and starts to rifle through the food on his desk.

  “Which sandwich is yours?” he asks casually.

  “They’re both the same.”

  “Good. Here,” he says, unwrapping one for me.

  I don’t move from my spot.

  He glares over at me with an arched brow.

  “Should I make you sit down?” he says, turning as if he’s about to walk toward me.

  My eyes widen in alarm, and I hold out my hands to keep him at bay. “No. I can do it.”

  I scurry over to my seat and sit down once again, making a show of r
eaching for my sandwich as if I’m actually going to eat it. My stomach is in knots, but he’s waiting for me to eat, so I bite off the tiniest bit and chew.

  Meanwhile, Walt looks on, watching me.

  “Would you stop?” I groan.

  “I can’t help it.”

  “You have to look at me?”

  “I have to make sure you’re not going to run away, yes. You’re liable to dart out of here at any moment.”

  I roll my eyes and take a bigger bite, nodding for him to do the same. He opens a bag of chips and angles it so we can share it.

  For a minute or two, we eat quietly.

  Then, I ruin it with an observation.

  “You know, you didn’t even kiss me. At least…I mean, not on the mouth.”

  His brown eyes are too amused as he looks over at me. “I’ll kiss you right now if you want me to.”

  “No! I have sandwich breath.”

  Before he can reply, his phone rings on his desk, and he answers it by hitting a button so it diverts to speakerphone.

  “Yes?”

  “Lori and the guys are here for the quality meeting,” April says.

  “Oh,” I whisper, jumping up so I can leave.

  Walt’s hand darts out to catch mine so I can’t go.

  “Sit,” he tells me.

  “What?” April asks, confused.

  “I’ll be done in ten minutes,” he tells her while motioning for me to sit down. “They’re early and I’m still eating lunch.”

  “No worries. I’ll let them know,” she confirms before ending the call.

  I’m still standing.

  Walt’s still holding my hand, his grip steady and warm.

  “Like you said, we haven’t seen each other all week,” he points out. “Sit and eat with me.”

  Slowly, I retake my seat, knowing that arguing with him is futile. He wants me to stay and he’s used to getting his way, so I’ll sit and eat and act like everything is normal even though it’s definitely not.

  With my leg jiggling up and down nervously, I manage to eat a meager quarter of my sandwich before wrapping it up.

  Meanwhile, Walt’s food is gone in the blink of an eye. He sweeps the crumbs away and helps me clean up.

  “I’ll take the leftovers home,” I promise, standing up to gather everything.