Look Don’t Touch

by Tess Oliver

  "She was silent on the entire bus ride," she continued, pillow still in her arms. "She held my hand, but she didn't say a word. I knew better than to ask her why we were going to the beach because I knew in her dark mood she wouldn't have enough energy to answer my question. So I just sat there quietly watching the other tired looking people on the bus, most on their way home from work. I figured my mom wanted to go to the beach in hopes that it would cheer her up and kick her out of her dark mood."

  She pulled the pillow away from her and looked at it. "I'm destroying this. Poor thing."

  "No, it's fine. Hug it all you want. The decorator put a bunch of pillows around the house, and I really don't like them."

  Shay hugged it in her arms again. "Thanks. I'm actually becoming quite attached to it." She stretched her legs out and stared down at her bare feet. "I remember the beach was deserted and most of the lights along the path were broken. We took off our shoes. I'd only ever experienced hot sand, and I was giggling at how cold it felt between my toes. My mom laughed with me for a second, and I was relieved. I was sure the beach was going to help her mood. We walked down to the water and sat in the moist sand. The waves looked scary and black and I kept imagining ugly tentacle-limbed creatures lurking on the sandy bottom."

  Shay stopped and took a slow breath. Her expression said it all. I knew what was coming next. My throat tightened. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt a lump in my throat.

  "My mom stood up and brushed the sand off her pants. She leaned over and kissed the top of my head and told me I was the only star that ever twinkled in her dark sky. I was trying to figure out what was happening." Shay's voice wavered. "It all happened so fast. She ran into the water, and I assured myself she'd turn around soon. But she didn't. She just kept swimming. I jumped up and ran in knee deep. But I couldn't swim. I screamed for her so loud and so long, I couldn't talk for days afterward. And there was no one around, no one to hear me. I just remember her long hair disappearing beneath the surface. She never came up for air. They found her body two days later a mile down the coast on some rocks."

  "Holy shit, Shay."

  She sucked in a long shuddering breath. "Don't get me wrong, up until that major parenting misstep, my mom had been great. We never had much and we always struggled. She did have her low moments, but we were good friends. I guess that made losing her that much harder. And I did go through a period where I was mad as hell at her for killing herself right in front of me. But the more I read about depression, the more I realized she just wasn't in a place to make normal decisions, the more I learned to forgive her. Yes, I grew up with love but happiness was sporadic, and there was nothing normal about my childhood. Afterward, I went to live with my grandmother, who wanted me about as much as she wanted the painful arthritis in her gnarled fingers." She relaxed back, still clutching the pillow.

  I badly wanted to hold her, and for once, the thought of touching her had nothing to do with sex.

  16

  Shay's eyes had nearly popped from her head when I showed her the exercise room. She had spent most of the morning in there working out and dancing. I could have and probably should have sat in the room and watched her. I was, after all, in a self-imposed sex rehab. But I had a few calls to make, and I found myself not wanting to intrude on her workout. Somehow it seemed creepy, which was saying a lot considering the terms of our agreement.

  I pulled up Rob Nixon, a guy who had made his first million in the stock market by the ripe age of twenty-one. Other than Jack, I kept most of my acquaintances at an arm's length. If I didn't need them for business, I didn't need them at all. But Rob was my age, and we had enough in common that we had formed a casual friendship. Rob was into outdoor extreme sports. I was sure he could lead me to some up and coming entrepreneurs in need of serious investors.

  "Archer, is that you?" Rob asked as he answered the phone.

  "It's me, Rob. How are you doing?"

  "Not bad. Made a good chunk of change off some medicinal marijuana stocks. A little company that's on the cutting edge of new stuff. What about you?" he asked and quickly added. "I heard you and Grant parted ways. What are you up to now?"

  "Starting my own business, DNA Investments. I'm thinking of narrowing my focus to outdoor adventure."

  "Smart move. Outdoor adventure is blowing up. Those guys with the fold-up kayak just passed the hundred million mark. I take it you're going to the big party tonight. Every big equity firm will be there to make small talk and find big deals. In fact, there are a few new entrepreneurs attending that I think you'll want to meet. One group is three women from Harvard who have come up with some lightweight but seemingly indestructible metal frames for bicycles. I'll look for you and introduce you."

  I hesitated, feeling like an ass for not even knowing about the party. "I've been sort of off the grid, Rob. Whose party is it?"

  "Shit, you have been off the grid. Everyone's been talking about this stupid shindig for weeks. Peyton and Sons, the investment bankers, are throwing it at their Beverly Hills estate, where they have their annual summer party. Naturally, it's invitation only. Didn't you get the invite?" I didn't answer. "Hey, let me text Everett Peyton and let him know to email you an invite. You probably just missed seeing it." He paused our conversation to send the text.

  I sat back in my chair feeling deflated. I'd let myself drift away from real life for so long, I had missed out on opportunities.

  "Off the grid," Rob returned to the call. "You must have been hiding in a cave for the last month. No wonder I haven't seen you out anywhere. Oh man, was it your dad? Did he . . . you know."

  "You mean kick the bucket? Nope, he's not ready to go yet. Pretty sure if the grim reaper shows up in his bedroom, David Archer senior will tell him to get the fuck out and not return until he's good and ready."

  Rob laughed but it was cut short. "Shit," he muttered into the phone, but it seemed he hadn't meant me to hear it.

  "Shit what?" I asked.

  "Man, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it looks like Grant has been working behind the scenes to keep you from grabbing up his prospects. He told Peyton you were no longer a reputable investor. That your life was out of control." Rob's voice grew more somber. "Sorry about that, Nash. Seems Grant has been working overtime to ruin your reputation. He's no doubt worried that you'll be too formidable as an opponent. But, hey, I'll write Peyton back and put in a good word for you."

  "That's all right, Rob. Thanks though. Guess that's why it's a bad idea to drop off the grid. I should have been out there defending myself and taking the old fart to the mat for his bullshit. I'll talk to you later."

  "Yeah. Take care, man."

  I slammed my phone down on the desk. I grabbed the stress ball I kept in my drawer and squeezed it as I visualized it looking like Morris Grant's prune shaped head. There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted to get ahead of me. He knew I was the talent in his company and with me on the outside, instead of inside his circle, I was a competitor.

  I slammed the desk drawer and shot up from my seat, sending my rolling chair against the wall. I'd wasted the last month and let my guard down.

  I threw the office door open and headed to the wet bar for a shot of whiskey. Shay was sitting on the couch holding that damn green pillow against her and reading a book.

  She smiled up at me. "I was just going to come and ask if you wanted a fruit smoothie. I make a good—"

  My gaze dropped to her sweatpants and the faded oversized t-shirt she'd pulled on after her workout. "I'm not paying you to lounge around like a frump in fucking sweatpants." Her expression flattened and morphed to hurt, but I couldn't seem to stop being an asshole. But there had been a purpose to this plan, and I needed her to hold up her end of the contract. "Put on one of those silky pieces of lingerie now."

  She nodded once. "Right." She tossed the book on the coffee table and hopped up, still holding the pillow like a kid with a security blanket. She headed to the hallway. As I turned toward the we
t bar, the pillow hit me in the back of the head. I swung back around. She lifted her chin in defiance, a gesture that, like everything else she did, turned me on.

  "I realized I liked that pillow because it smelled faintly of your aftershave. Now I don't like it because it smells faintly of your fucking aftershave." She turned swiftly around and disappeared into the hallway. The guest room door shut sharply behind her.

  It took a moment to pry my feet from the spot. I leaned down and picked up the pillow. I pushed it against my face and took in a deep whiff. I didn't smell my aftershave but I sure as hell could smell the scent of her skin and her hair on it. I decided not to decipher or contemplate what she'd said before she stomped off.

  I skipped the whiskey and walked to the refrigerator for a cold water. I needed an hour in the gym with the punching bag. A heavy sweat and some good fist pounding would help lessen the rage I was feeling. It was nothing short of betrayal. I'd brought millions of dollars of business to MG Enterprises, and while I messed up good with my final client, I didn't deserve to be dragged through the fucking sewer. It was going to take longer than I thought for my new company to take its place in the market, but now, more than ever, I was determined to make it work. And aside from making millions and hopefully billions, I was going to make sure I put Morris Grant out of business.

  I walked into my bedroom, yanked off my clothes and put on some shorts for a workout, then headed up the hall to the room I'd turned into my personal gym. Aside from a large mat for lifting free weights and a punching bag, I had a top of the line workout machine with a chest press, fly station and leg press. There was a state of the art treadmill and exercise bike too, but I found I preferred to get my cardio by running outside and riding mountain bikes. But the machines came in handy when the weather was too hot.

  I cranked up some music, hoping it would help my mood. I grabbed the jump rope from the hook on the wall and started my routine. I was spinning the rope so fast it whirred through the air like a blade. Music vibrated the floor and the walls.

  Shay. I'd forgotten my angry orders in the hallway. News that Grant had sabotaged my reputation had filled me with rage, and Shay had innocently been sitting in the center of it. But the truth was, I needed her to do her part. I'd been easy on her and on myself after the extremely raunchy scene in the bathroom. The story about her mother had made it harder for me too. I grappled with the notion that I was taking full advantage of her. But that notion was swept aside when the door pushed open.

  Shay had pulled on a skimpy, sheer baby doll nightie that had panels that split down the front. With even the slightest movement the shimmery, transparent material fluttered open exposing the lush bottom curves of her breasts all the way down to the tiny lace strap panties made of the same sheer material. She had glossed her lips up to a shine that made my eyes go straight toward them. Her shoulder length hair was pulled up high into a ponytail that let me see every inch of her long neck. The way it curved down to her slim shoulders held my attention and caused me to skip a beat. The rope tangled against my foot. My heart was beating loudly like a drum, but it wasn't all from skipping rope.

  Shay refused to make eye contact with me as she swung her hips side to side, making sure to part the sheer panels with each movement. I swung the rope around again, and started my cardio back up, hoping it would keep the blood from pumping straight to my cock.

  Shay walked over to the weight machine. She turned toward the mat where I was working out. With slow precision she stretched her long leg over the bench seat to straddle it. She scooted back against the back rest and lifted her arms high enough to drape her hands over the wings of the fly machine. The position lifted and parted the fabric panels of the teddy so high it exposed her nipples to the cool air of the room. They puckered as she arched her back to push her breasts higher.

  Shay finally looked at me, and the hurt from my earlier scolding was still there. Along with that little twinkle that assured me she knew exactly what the hell she was doing. Sometimes her beauty made it easy to forget that she was working for that million dollar bonus.

  Her long lashes fluttered as she gazed at me. She let her knees drop wide on each side of the bench. I wondered if I'd ever be able to do a leg press again without getting a fucking hard on knowing that her pussy was straddled over the bench. With her hands resting up on the wings of the weight machine, it was easy to imagine her tied up and vulnerable on my bed, with her arms and legs secured. I stopped the jump rope. My chest was heaving with the workout and from seeing her in a position that took my mind to every dark, dirty thought it could come up with. I stared back at her, unflinchingly, as I rolled the rope methodically up in my hand. There was no way a clever woman like Shay could have missed my erotic meaning. It was a meeting of wills again. She was exactly what I needed. This was only going to work if I pushed myself to the physical limits. And I couldn't have picked a more perfect partner for that.

  In loose workout shorts, there was no way to conceal how fucking erect I was and I had no intention of it. Her gaze went straight to it, and she smiled slyly at her handiwork. What she didn't realize was how much hotter it made me to have her look at my erection. It seemed just her appreciative gaze alone could set my blood on fire. Something told me she could have been dressed head to toe in snow gear and I still would be hard just from the way she looked at me.

  We hadn't said a word to each other, but it seemed we were having the longest, most effective session of dirty talk in history. I decided to push the conversation a little harder. I untied the drawstring on my shorts. They dropped to my ankles, giving her a clear view of the cock she had teased to attention without any physical contact.

  Shay licked her bottom lip. I quickly tried to decipher whether it was a real and natural reaction or an act. She was good at this that was for damn sure. She lowered her hands from the machine and rested her belly down on the bench. The baby doll didn't cover her ass and the naked cheeks, drawn perfectly into two by the thin strip of lace, were silently begging for a spanking. She bent her knees so that her feet were up in the air behind her. As she lifted them, she made sure to push her ass up higher.

  I stood there for a long torturous second, thinking about her lips wrapping around my cock, her tongue teasing the pre-cum from the fleshy head. And while the visions took my pulse to a level that made it pound in my head, I forced my mind to focus on the list I'd made myself this morning. I needed to get a logo and a business card.

  I turned to the punching bag, trying to replace the sexy image of Shay with some possible logo designs. But it was hard. All of my energy and focus remained down below and very little blood flowed to my head. I shoved the name Morris Grant into my mind. That helped take the edge off some.

  I stood naked and still fully erect in front of the punching bag. The weight machine with my erotic houseguest stretched out on it was barely visible from behind the black punching bag.

  I rested my forehead against it for a second to gain my focus. My erection stared back up at me. Shit, I wanted to fuck her so bad. I threw my fist into the bag and my second hand followed. I hit the bag again and again, slowly bringing my mind into the task. I could feel every hit all the way through to my shoulders, reminding me of the night I'd punched my bedroom wall again and again. Sweat ran down my back as I punched the bag over and over until my hands were sore.

  My gaze went right to the weight machine, but Shay was not on the bench. I leaned past the bag. She was jumping rope. Her breasts lifted and fell as the rope swung past her. Her feet barely left the ground with each jump.

  The punching bag had released enough stress and energy that my erection had all but been erased. But the sight of Shay jumping rope, brought it right back. I stepped out from behind the punching bag and felt slightly vindicated when she missed and tangled her foot on the jump rope.

  She licked her lips as she tied the rope around one wrist and then held her hands out, showing me she could only tie the one.

  I looked pointedly
at her outstretched hands. She displayed the most perfectly seductive pout I'd ever seen. I walked toward her. At first her eyes widened in shock, but I moved so fast she had no other time to react.

  I grabbed the loose end of the rope and wound it around her second wrist and once around the wrist she had tied. A stunned gasp left her lips, and the sexy pout disappeared. Without touching her, I tugged the rope and led her to the wall of the room. Another tug and I had her arms up above her head and her back resting against the cool plaster. My feet, my erection and my face were so close, we could have held a piece of paper between us. But our skin never touched.

  I gazed down at her mostly naked body. Her round breasts expanded and fell with each breath she took. I could feel the need to have her through every muscle in my body. I stared at her face, her eyes and her lips, warming her with the heat rolling off my body, the heat of arousal that would take an icy shower to cool. I tried to conjure memories of wild sex with other women. My mind should have been flooded with their scent, the feel of their touch, the heat of their pussies, but I couldn't bring up one distinct memory. It was as if I'd never had any woman, and the only one I wanted was the one standing between me and the wall.

  "Shay," I said quietly, almost too faintly to compete with the music in the room. And then as seemed to always be the case with Shay, something happened I hadn't expected and my reaction shocked the hell out of me.

  As I said her name, her long lashes fluttered down and she closed her eyes. And with them closed, she whispered, "Say it again. Say my name again."

  It was getting hard to discern fact from fiction. Was she still teasing me? Or was this real? All I knew was that I felt her plea down in my chest. "Shay," I said again.

  The seconds that passed while I had her trapped beneath me, so close that I could feel the static charges between us, seemed like hours. It was agony having her so close, knowing I couldn't kiss her.