Come On (Coming Together Book 2)

by Poppy Dunne

“Enjoy! Don’t make too much noise, though. I’ll bring you a pie in the morning!” she calls as Tessa fumbles with her keys and nearly throws herself into her apartment. I follow behind her, flipping on the lights. Unwinding her scarf and slipping out of her coat, she hangs both on a peg beside the front door before pressing her forehead against the wall and moaning in horror. I tend to have that effect on women.

  “This place is…cozy.” I scan the apartment, which takes all of five seconds to do. It’s a cramped studio, with a bed taking up most of the space against the far right wall. I try not to let my thoughts run wild as I look past it to the other standard furnishings: a desk with a lamp, a bedside table, a large, old oak dresser. Stepping into the center of the space, I glimpse a darkened kitchen doorway to my left and a bathroom to my right. The place is simple, comfortable.

  Crowded, also, because every other available space is covered with books. There are two tottering bookshelves, a stack of books on top of the dresser, books on the windowsill, an open book with its spine broken splayed out on the bed. Tessa goes and closes it, looking sheepishly at me as she does.

  “Ah, sorry. I don’t entertain much.” She flushes again as she goes into the kitchen and snaps on a light. “You can hang your coat up if you want,” she calls. I hear clattering in there. She’s likely making tea.

  Doesn’t entertain much. Between that and the lady downstairs waxing enthusiastic about us getting it on, I’m guessing there isn’t a man in the picture and hasn’t been for some time. I shouldn’t feel as selfishly pleased as I do, but I’m not a saint. Playboy? Kind of. Philanthropist? Of course. Superhero? I wouldn’t say I am, but if you know Krav Maga and have a shit-ton of money, you kind of qualify automatically.

  “Are we going to look at this thing?” Tessa pokes her head in to find me, and I realize I’ve been standing here thinking about my prowess and my assistant’s lack of a sex life for a full minute. “Er, I mean, sir?” She bites her lower lip; fuck, don’t do that when there’s a bed in the vicinity. I’m going to do my best to get you into it. “Sorry. It’s been kind of a crazy day. I don’t know how to feel about everything.”

  “Seeing as we’re both embroiled in a potential career-ending scandal, how about we drop the sir and the Ms. Snowe for the moment?” I slide off my coat and hang it up. It could be my imagination, but I think she’s staring at me. When I turn around, her eyes dart to the floor, like she knows she’s been doing something she shouldn’t. Good. That’s a good response. “Rafe.” I put a hand over my chest, then extend it to her. “Tessa. There, now that I’ve assigned us our own names for the evening, let’s look at this goddamn thing.”

  “Okay.” She smiles, her shoulders relaxing. “Come on in. I’ve booted up the computer, and I made some more peppermint tea! With honey, of course.”

  I follow her into the kitchen. For you, baby, I’ll drink it. Then when your back is turned, I’ll spit it into a potted plant.

  A few minutes later, I’m seated at the kitchen table and poring over the contents of the zip drive. Tessa is standing behind me and leaning on my chair. Still hasn’t taken her hair out of its bun, which is a shame, but she does press against me enough that I feel the faint outline of her breasts on my back. I can barely concentrate on the emails I’m reading.

  And the emails have given me a staggering helping of nothing. Apparently scarecrow hackers like Emmett and sweet little old anarchists like M don’t give you your money’s worth anymore.

  There’s nothing in these emails that pin anything specifically illegal on Scott and Brad. No threats. No attempts at blackmail. On the bright side, though, it does demonstrate what remarkably terrible people they are. At least they’re consistent.

  “What’s this mean?” Tessa points at something on my screen, and I feel her body press against me just that much harder. Wrestling control of myself, I manage to talk like a social human being.

  “Scott’s agreed that they’re going to sell Benzaline so far above cost that no one will be able to comfortably afford it. So what might have cost someone two dollars per pill will now go for one-fifty.” I run a hand through my hair, the stirrings of an epic hate migraine creeping up the side of my head.

  “Can they really do that?” Tessa appears livid. Her mouth is set in a firm line, her brown eyes hard and flashing. Damn, I’ve never seen her this worked up before. And fuck me, but she looks even more goddamn beautiful than think about how shitty your not-dad is, Rafe, and forget your assistant.

  “It’s legal. Shitty, but legal.” I close the laptop and push back from the table. Tessa steps to the side, watchful as I get up and pace back and forth across the kitchen. It takes me all of two and a half steps per turn. This place is tiny, and I am large. “So that’s what we’re left with. Emails between Scott, a bunch of his executive blowhards, and some doctors detailing how much they’re going to screw everyone with a yearly income south of half a million.” I shrug, pick up the mug of tea, take a sip, and remember that I hate it. “Must be Tuesday,” I say grimly.

  “It is Tuesday, actually.” Tessa sits at the table, looking into the distance. She seems weary and pale. Just another fuckup I’ve caused her. Just another inconvenience I’ve given her. Christ, why can’t I do anything spectacularly right for this woman? I mean, there’s one very right thing I could do for her if I could get her out of those clothes and into her bed…

  Don’t be an asshole, Rafe. She doesn’t need you fucking her life up any harder.

  “Well. One good thing’s come out of this.” I unplug the zip drive. “You’re not involved any further, and it wasn’t that bad.”

  She blinks up at me, her expression one of total amazement. It’s unusual to have a woman look at me like that when I’m not naked. “You think this is it for me?”

  “Yes, I do.” I slip the drive into my pocket, and make my voice as alpha male, rugged, Blue Fucking Steel as I can. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in the first place. Although to be fair, you did take my phone.”

  “It looks just like mine.” She stands as well, shoving the chair back. There’s fire building in her dark eyes. Hands on her hips, she faces me full-on. No bowing, no scraping, no holding her tongue. “Am I supposed to just roust you out of bed late every morning and follow after you through the office and pretend like I don’t know the kind of crazy things you’re involved in?”

  “First, I love that you used the word roust.” I step in towards her, letting her look up at me. She took her heels off, so my added height’s extra impressive. She licks her lips, a tell of nerves; it’s all I can do not to press her against the wall and kiss her. “Second, I’ve been playing this game with Scott and Brad for longer than you’ve been working with me. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. So you’re not involved.”

  “No.”

  I think it surprises the hell out of both of us. Tessa straightens her shoulders, though, and continues. “No, I mean, yes. I mean, no I’m not not involved, yes I’m involved…” She rubs her forehead. “It’s late.”

  “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

  She blinks up at me. “It’s late for me. I get up at five every day. I barely have any time to spend in my own apartment, and next to no money to spend on anything. And do you know why?” There’s that spark in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks. “Because every penny I make that isn’t food or rent goes to take care of my grandpa and my sister and my nephew. And it’s all because of people like Scott McCarthy.” She looks me right in the eye. “And I’m tired of getting, well…” She screws up her mouth, and finally blurts out, “I’m tired of getting fucked by people like him.” She says fucked like the word’s a pair of new shoes she hasn’t broken in yet.

  “You don’t swear a lot, do you?”

  She laughs, softening at once. “What gave it away?” Then she gets that little tight look, the one I see whenever she needs to get me up and out to a meeting. The look that says she isn’t backing down. “But I want to help. You have to let me. I drove you, a
fter all.”

  Her logic is insane, but she’s right. She’s in this—in with me. And the way she’s standing there, fearless, unafraid of the Scott McCarthys of the world…

  Fuck. I don’t give a damn what happens next.

  I close the distance between us, and Tessa starts as I lay my hand against her cheek, as I tilt her face up to meet mine. Her eyes widen imperceptibly as I skim my fingers along the soft expanse of her throat. Her lips part, and she gasps.

  “You really want to help me?” My thumb traces her lower lip, and her breath hitches. That small, erotic sound nearly drives me out of my mind.

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Good. You have something I need.”

  Then I bring my mouth down over hers, and kiss her.

  Five

  Tessa

  Rafe McCarthy is kissing me.

  That’s all I can think as his lips cover mine. That’s all I can think as my eyes flutter closed and every rational thought goes sliding out of my head. It’s been so long since I kissed anybody, I’m not even sure that I’m doing it right…

  Even that thought evaporates. Thank God.

  The first kiss is almost gentle, a firm but quick brush of lips. His mouth hovers above mine, tantalizingly close. I open my eyes to find him watching me intently, his brow furrowed as if in concentration. His one hand is still cradling my neck, the other pressed against my lower back, holding me flush against his body. Oh God. Was it so horrible that he’s frozen in shock? Was this a test? Did I pass? Why am I thinking right now?

  If he’s waiting for a signal that it’s clear to proceed, I tilt my chin and slide my arms around his neck. A rumbling, satisfied growl vibrates through him as he brings his mouth back down to mine. The man literally growled. If he weren’t holding me up, I’d have puddled at his feet by now.

  His stubble is a scrape against my cheek. His kisses grow deeper, longer, and our mouths part as he wraps an arm fully around me. He presses me as close as he can, his tongue stroking against mine. I moan and pull him backwards, sending us stumbling against the kitchen table. Rafe’s hands rove over my back, exploring me. I gasp as he continues his slide down the length of my body all the way to my ass. He breaks the kiss, his dark eyes flashing as he watches me.

  “Are you all right?” His voice is deep and hoarse with need now, all kidding gone from his expression. His chest rises and falls; I can feel his heart hammering against me, as fast as my own. His arms, wrapped around my waist, feel corded with steel. My mouth is still tingling and sensitive from his stubble, from the expert way he was kissing me. A heavy, satisfying warmth pools between my legs.

  “Uhyeh,” I say, which was supposed to be oh yeah except I forgot how to talk. He smiles, that wicked light sparking in his eyes. He reaches up and, in one swift motion, releases my hair from its clip. It tumbles down to my shoulders; I watch the expression on his face go from “turned on” to “can this table withstand sex, yes or no?”

  “Holy fuck,” he growls, and kisses me again. If our fucking is going to be so good it’s divine, then hey, who am I to complain? I groan as his tongue explores my mouth, as his hand cups the swell of my breast. I hitch a leg around his to pull him closer, which nearly topples the pair of us. Rafe places his hands on either side of me, steadying us on the table. He kisses my jaw, moving down along my neck. I sit myself on the table, which holds nicely, and he grabs my hips to pull me against his body—grinding me against his steadily growing erection. I’m wet instantly, my body pleasantly sore and heavy with needing to be touched. I close my eyes, grip tightly to his shoulders, and think about how we only need to leave the kitchen and take a running leap to get to the bed. Then, we can—

  Finally, it’s like a light goes on inside the dimly lit interior of my brain. It’s like my own personal Jiminy Cricket conscience dashes out of the bathroom with his pants still around his ankles shouting, “He’s your boss! I was gone for like five minutes!”

  “Stop,” I gasp. Rafe releases me instantly, springing back like I’m boiling hot to the touch. I mean, I know I’m pretty flushed, but…no, I have no way to finish that sentence. My brain is a soup of hormones and bad ideas.

  “Are you okay?” Rafe takes a few more steps back, colliding with the fridge. One of my poetry magnets comes loose. I’ll have to write a haiku about this experience when he’s gone. God I’m so horny/I want hot sex with my boss/God I’m so stupid.

  “I. I don’t.” I blink, and suddenly a horrible idea pops into my head. He was so ready to kiss me, so prepared to keep it going…

  What have I known about my boss for the past five years? That he’s a handsome womanizer with a personal trainer. Tonight, I’m expected to believe he’s really been a secret do-gooder with a nebulous network of hacker vigilantes at his beck and call this whole time. Is it possible Rafe’s really that good of an actor? Or is it more likely he’s been playing a game?

  My heart drops into my stomach, which takes a dive into my spleen. It is a three-way organ crash going on in my body right now. I’d go to the doctor to get it checked out, only I can’t afford it.

  “Was this all a trick?” Indignant, I edge towards the door. I’m not afraid he’s going to jump me, but I have a baseball bat hidden beneath my bed that I named “creep repellant.”

  “Excuse me?” Now it’s Rafe’s turn to be indignant. His eyes narrow as he realizes what I’m suggesting. “You’re not serious.”

  “No, you’re not serious. You’re never serious. Then all of a sudden, tonight, you’re like Captain America but hotter. It makes no sense.”

  “Thank you for the Captain America thing.” He presses towards me, not in any threatening way, but he means business. Sexy business. “But what are you implying?”

  “If you arranged all of this—the whole bodega spy thing—just to get me into bed, then—”

  He stops dead, a hand raised. I shut up. “Do you think I had someone manufacture a bunch of fake incriminating emails from Scott, then hired an old lady actor to drop off a zip drive in a bodega, all so I could come back to your place and put the moves on you?” The corner of his mouth rakes up in a smile. “Because if so, I am the most interesting and insane man in the world.”

  I pause. “Okay, when you put it like that—”

  “Plus, you stole my phone. The whole plan kind of hinges on that, doesn’t it?”

  Oh. Right. I feel myself flush. “I didn’t steal it. I mistook it for mine.” Why are we arguing about this? And why, when Rafe laughs at how ridiculous all this is and comes closer toward me, do I want nothing more than to grip him by the front of his shirt and haul him the five steps backwards to my bed?

  No. No, no, no. My job and my life are on much shakier ground now than they were two hours ago. I’m not going to add screwing my boss to that bubbling cauldron of instability.

  Even though I really, really want to.

  “We can’t do this.” I even hold out my hands in a “stop” signal. Rafe halts in the kitchen doorway. I swear, this is like the most confusing and adult version of Red Light, Green Light ever played.

  “Not to be pedantic, but we can.” Rafe’s gaze travels over me in a heated line. His jaw squares, his fists clench. It’s like he’s memorizing every part of me, wanting to make my body his own. God, why can’t I make just one bad decision? Just one really good, really bad one. “Like, we physically can. We just don’t want to?” He barely makes the end of that a question, looking to me for confirmation.

  “We. Um.” We want to, a lot, at least three times before going to sleep. Licking my lips, I finish with, “Everything’s too weird right now. I mean, I have to think about my family. We need my job. My job needs me to be…present and focused.” In other words, I can’t screw my boss while he attempts to screw his father. Not in the same way, of course. God, what an image. “Plus, there’s the whole takeover thing you’ve got going on. You probably want to concentrate on that.”

  “Right.” Rafe’s shoulders tighten, but he doesn�
�t come any closer. Instead, he heads for his coat. How is it possible for a man this tall and powerfully built to also move with so much graceful control of his body? Maybe it’s all that Krav Maga. I kind of wish we had gotten jumped in the bodega tonight. I’d have gotten to see Rafe in action.

  Action makes me think of sex. I am this close to saying I’ve changed my mind, but stop myself. I cross my arms and stare at the floor.

  Trust me, Tessa, it’s better this way. Fewer orgasms, but more security.

  I hate being rational sometimes, and now I’m about to be even more rational.

  “I, ah, think I have to rethink helping out with all of this,” I say, wanting to kick myself. Rafe is busy sliding into his coat, but stops. I can’t read his expression. Is he tired, horny, both? “Unless you think—”

  “You’re right.” He cuts me off, does up his coat. “You need your job too much to jeopardize it.”

  “Totally right.” Totally and completely right, why do I want to cry right now, please bring your fine body back here, I hope to God I’m not saying any of this out loud. Rafe opens the door, and stands there for a minute. My entire body is quivering for just a little bit more. One more touch, one more kiss, one more bout of sweaty, naked sex.

  Wait, I didn’t even get one of those. Damn everything.

  “Well. See you tomorrow.” I try to sound cheerful, but I don’t do an especially convincing job. Rafe’s jaw visibly clenches.

  “Tessa.” His voice is growling again, laced with something urgent and possessive. I have to stop myself from running over there, tackling him, and then riding his brains out in full view of apartment 3C. The DeLillos would not appreciate the show, but I’ve spent two years listening to them loudly argue about which brand of mustard to buy. Fair’s fair.

  But I don’t make a move on Rafe. I know that I can’t.

  Sighing, Rafe runs a hand through his hair. “Good night,” he says, and leaves. The door closes. There. I’m all alone in my apartment, with no raucous sex to be had and no one to have it with. I made the smart choice.