Sordid: A Novel

by Ava Harrison

  “Ah, I’m sorry to do this to you mid-conversation, but I need to go say hello to someone. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll be back a bit later.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll mingle.” I wave him off with a smile.

  The second he’s out of sight, the lavishness of The L hits me in full effect. The place is extraordinary. I take a few more minutes to marvel at the detail. Strings of crystals hang from the ceiling, catching the light from the chandeliers. Large vases pepper the room, overflowing with flowers I can’t even name. They are beautiful.

  My eyes catch Jared, and I watch as he blatantly flirts with the woman he practically mowed over seconds ago. It’s clear from here that he likes her and I can understand why. She’s gorgeous. Tall and slender, long red hair flowing to mid-back. She looks like a classy version of Jessica Rabbit, and Jared is practically drooling. I’m a bit far, but he really looks like a lovesick puppy.

  As if the girl can hear my thinking about her, she turns to face me and from the first time since this whole exchange has started I notice who the girl is. My mouth drops and she must see the shock on my face because her mouth parts into a large smile. The beautiful bombshell is Paige, and it’s obvious I’m not the only person to notice the amazing transformation Paige has made. Jared is enthralled.

  A small pang hits my chest. It’s not as though I want to date Jared, but I envy the two of them as it’s clear the feelings are mutual. When will I find someone? More importantly, when will I find someone who is available? Ugh.

  As if my night couldn’t be any more depressing, in walks Grant, and on his arm is none other than his wife, Chelsea. If the pang from moments ago was distressing, this feels like being plowed over by a dump truck. Just the other day I was in his arms. I could feel how much he wanted me. Herein lies the issue with my working conditions. I never know where I stand with Grant, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. He’s married and has a child.

  The thoughts running through my head threaten to unravel me. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes and bile is making its way up the back of my throat. I can’t be here. This isn’t professional, and I’m a goddamn professional if nothing else.

  I spy a quick exit, and without a second thought, dart toward it. I find myself in a secluded hallway, relieved that I’ve escaped unseen. Marching forward, I search for an exit but I never make it. Someone grabs me from behind, pulling me through a doorway and into a pitch-black room. I whirl around, but the room is so dark I can’t tell who’s kidnapped me.

  “What’s wrong?” Grant’s voice rings out and I gasp.

  “N-nothing. I-I just needed air,” I lie.

  “Bullshit, Bridget. You’re upset. I could tell from across the room.”

  “Why were you watching me from across the room? Your wife is with you,” I spit out.

  He grabs me by my elbows, stabilizing me. “Stop. Don’t do this. Tonight is important, and for all the work we’ve done it shouldn’t be spent like this.”

  “What do you want from me, Grant?”

  “Nothing, Bridget. I just want you to enjoy yourself. Did I do something?”

  I contemplate lying again to get him to allow me to leave, but at the end of the day, I’m sick of this dance we’re doing. I’m tired of not knowing what’s going on between us. One minute it’s clear that his marriage has been over for a long time, yet the next they look cozy. I’m done with it and I want answers.

  “Yes, you fucking damn well did something. You kiss me senseless one day, and the next you show up here looking pretty damn happy with the wife you claim to hate. You tell me. How should I feel?” I pull myself out of his grasp and cross my arms protectively across my chest.

  “Bridget, I’m sorry. I never meant to confuse you or make you feel as if I’ve led you on. I’m married. It might be over between us, but legally we’re still together and in the eyes of investors, we’re a team. I can’t confuse people or give them a reason to question the state of the company. Any unrest could result in them pulling funds, and you know that can’t happen right now. Too much is at stake.”

  He’s right. I know he is, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Then stop doing this. Stop making me feel like there’s a chance when there isn’t.” I turn to find the door to exit but am turned abruptly by Grant’s strong hands.

  “I’m just trying to explain why I allowed her to touch me, Bridget. I don’t want her anywhere near me, let alone touching me. You have to know that. This is for appearance only.”

  “I get it, but I hate it.” I sound weak and it makes me sick. I’m not this girl. I don’t allow men to hurt me. So why is it different with Grant? “This is a mistake, Grant. I can’t do this.”

  “Nothing about us is a mistake, Bridget.”

  “Tell me why I should stay in this room with you?” I need him to tell me he wants me. I have to hear him say it.

  “I need you. I want you, Bridget. Not a single woman in that room has my attention. Only you.”

  All rational thought is gone.

  My lips clash with his in a fury. My hands come up to find his face and hold it to mine. We’re simply a man and a woman desperate for each other’s touch.

  “I need you, Bridget.” Grant’s words come out raspy and heated.

  “Take me.”

  With that, my dress is pulled up to my belly and I’m lifted off the floor, his hands under my ass. I wrap my legs around him, pulling his hardness into my core. The sensation has me gasping and him moaning into my mouth. Removing one hand, he unzips my dress and pulls it over my head. My breasts are pulled free and my back hits a wall. Grant lowers his mouth to pull one of my nipples into his mouth. My head falls back on a moan.

  “Grant, please,” I beg, needing more, so much more.

  He lowers me to my feet and spins me so my back is to his chest. Trailing his hands down my sides, they continue lower until his fingers find my panties and pull them to my ankles. I step one foot at a time out of the black lacy garment. He’s on his knees behind me and I’m shaking, waiting for whatever comes next. His mouth finds my wet center. One swipe and I feel undone. He laps at me over and over, bringing me closer and closer to the edge of composure. I’m panting and desperate for release, holding on to the wall in front of me to hold me steady.

  “Come for me, Bridget,” Grant commands before inserting two fingers. My core clenches and release comes at his command.

  Standing, Grant places small kisses on the back of my neck. His hands hold my shoulders as he whispers in my ear.

  “You are not a mistake, Bridget, and I’m done staying away.” His words send heat through my body. “I need you to understand the position I’m in. Trust me. Trust in us, and I promise one day we won’t have to hide in a closet to be together.”

  It’s the only thing I want to hear. He says it so convincingly, too. I want to believe him as I can tell he believes it to be a possibility. The truth is, I know there are obstacles in our way that even he doesn’t have a solution for. There are so many conflicting emotions running through me, but tonight I just want to revel in the fact he made a promise of more. A promise of a future. It’s more than I ever expected and exactly what I want.

  I want him.

  All of him.

  For tonight, I’ll pretend there’s hope for a future.

  I wake extra early the morning after the party. Anticipation and nerves will do that. I don’t know how to act. He promised me more.

  He wants to be with me. The thought is both intoxicating and sobering at the very same time.

  Even five hours later, it doesn’t feel like a new day. It feels as though only seconds ago his breath fanned my lips.

  I couldn’t sleep well. Heady visions danced behind my lids until they grew so intense I gave up the pursuit of sleep. Eventually, rest found me, but it was short-lived. When my eyes popped open, it was five o’clock. So now I lie here, knowing I can’t possibly fall back to sleep. I sit up, stretch out my arms, and shake the sleep from my body. Goin
g to the office early could be smart. That way I can be there before Grant.

  Thirty minutes and a shower later, I feel invigorated, like a new person. One who can take over the world, or in this case, be strong and indifferent to my boss for the sake of a future. He’s right. The investors have to feel confident. Chelsea is a thorn in our sides, but just for now. It doesn’t always have to be this way. If he said we can be together, then he’ll find a way, right?

  The warm fall air has begun to fade, and outside my building, there’s an early morning chill. I have time to walk today, so I will. It’s far but not too far, and today I need to think. I need to feel the air against my face. Breathe in the calm. At this time of day, New York City is empty. A few stray cabs rush by but, for the most part, I’m alone with my thoughts. Within the next thirty minutes, the peace I’m finding will be gone. I don’t even bother putting in my earphones that I usually use to distract and cocoon myself on a busy weekday morning. Today I welcome the sounds.

  When I arrive at the hotel, it’s nearly empty. Since we aren’t open yet and the workday doesn’t start for at least two hours, it’s almost desolate in the lobby. I walk to the far elevator—the one designated for the upper floors where our offices are. I scan my key in the elevator pad, it opens, and I ride up. I’m shocked to find he’s already here, but I’m not prepared. With an inhale of oxygen, I square my shoulders.

  “You’re here early,” he says. “Again.” His lips spread into a smirk. A lethal one. The kind of smirk that has the potential of landing me naked in his office in boatloads of trouble. Distance. Distance yourself. The words play a mantra in my head. This is not the place to lose your cool.

  “Yes. I have a lot of work to do. If there’s nothing you need, I’ll start.”

  His eyes widen a fraction, and then he nods. “Nothing yet.”

  “Well, then. I’ll be in my office if you change your mind.”

  I head to my office, knowing my words held an innuendo I didn’t intend. My words came out husky and inviting. Far too inviting for an employee and her boss.

  I busy myself for hours, trying to snuff out the need I have for him. I can hardly control myself, and it’s ridiculous. One night should not make a sex-crazed maniac out of me.

  Occasionally, I hear the hum of his voice echo from down the hall, implying he’s not happy with someone or something. Typically, that attitude would be directed at me, but not today.

  I pull up the list Grant sent me yesterday and start to work on the items I still haven’t done. Must distract myself.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed when I hear a discreet cough coming from the doorway. I peek up from behind my desk. Grant is standing in front of me. How long has he been standing there, staring at me?

  “Would you like to have lunch with me?” he asks, and as much as I want to, I can’t accept. I don’t think I can trust myself to be professional today. My body is aching for him.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  A smirk takes over his face. He obviously is not buying what I’m selling. “Are you avoiding me, Miss Miller?” The playful tone of his voice has my need intensifying.

  “No. I’m just busy, and you tempt me to want to do things we can’t do in public places.” I need to think straight, and I can’t with Grant Lancaster being charming and boyish. It’s a recipe for career and life disaster. He’ll be my ruin, but I’m not allowing that to happen today, no matter how much I want to. If I’m alone with him, we’ll be caught in the office on his desk. Or maybe on the floor. Who the hell knows, but we’ll definitely be caught with our pants down.

  He smirks wider. “You are avoiding me.”

  “For both of our sakes. Now go get yourself lunch and then get back to work.” I smile up at him and blow a quick kiss.

  I get it. I know why she’s keeping me at arm’s length in the office. We can’t flaunt our relationship in plain sight. It could cause issues on a number of fronts, and Chelsea is the least of my concerns. Bridget is right, but fuck, I don’t like it. Why can’t things be back to the way they were before the party, when her guard was down and mine was, too? It’s going to be a long few months if I have to pretend she’s not important to me.

  I pick up my phone and dial her extension. She’s not even able to say her name before I’m firing out, “Bridget, my office. Now.” My tone is stern but not harsh.

  “Oh, okay,” she squeaks. Timid, scared. Good. She should be. She can’t hide from me anymore.

  She walks in, her upper teeth nibbling her lower lip. I look at that lip. One kiss. To taste her just once. She dangles in front of me like forbidden fruit hanging from a tree begging me to grab it. To taste it. To savor it. Her lips part on a sigh and I can no longer think straight.

  “Close the door.” She follows my instructions. I stand and march toward her. “This needs to stop.” Her pupils enlarge at my words. “I know what you’re doing, but it’s not what I want.”

  She straightens her back, and I sense she’s trying to appear taller and not intimidated by my voice. “I’m not hiding from you,” she says coyly. Now she’s intentionally toying with me. I see her smirk. She knows how much I want her—need her.

  “I should get back to work.”

  Before I can stop myself, I cage her in beside the closed door. “Like hell you’re leaving, Bridget.” We’re so close I can feel her brushing against me, and then I close the distance. Taking her mouth. Owning it. My kiss is anything but sweet. It’s angry and possessive. My kiss demands her to kiss me back. I slide my tongue against the seam of her lips and she parts them for me. Good girl.

  Her mouth opens wider. Her tongue meets mine and I take a step closer, her back hitting the wall. When her arms wrap around my neck, I’m lost from her touch. I find myself pulling at her, grabbing her. Feeling her. She’s compliant in my arms, allowing me to have my wicked way. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m lifting her into my arms and placing her on my desk.

  She shudders and I smile. Reaching out, I push her down so she’s lying flat, her bare legs dangling over the edge. I trace her thigh, trailing up and continuing the path until my hand is beneath the hem of her skirt. I lift the material slowly, and goose bumps form across her alabaster skin. Each inch the material moves up has Bridget shivering. I stroke higher until I touch the soft cotton covering her. Her heat radiates through the thin material.

  God, I need to be inside her.

  I run a circle over the sensitive flesh hidden beneath. Teasing her. Torturing her, and ultimately tormenting myself.

  “Please,” she moans.

  “You want me to fuck you?” I rub a little faster. A ragged moan leaves her mouth as I push harder to apply more pressure. “Do you? Is that what you want?”

  She lifts her hips in answer. I chuckle and remove her thong. With one push of my hand, I spread her legs farther apart. She’s a goddamn feast in front of me. Glistening. Begging me to taste her. Fuck. My tongue juts out and meets her sensitive skin.

  “Oh, God.” She pants and I part her with my finger, my tongue continuing its assault on her bundle of nerves. I lick. I suck. I move my fingers inside her.

  One.

  Two.

  Three fingers.

  She stretches to accommodate the invasion.

  I draw out her pleasure. Making her pant, making her beg until she finally bites down on her hand to silence her screams. When I feel her body tremble around my finger, I know she’s ready for more.

  With my free hand, I unzip and pull a condom out from my pocket. When I put it in my pocket the other day, I hated myself for wishful thinking, but now I’ve never been so happy with a decision I made. I settle between her hips, cup her ass, and lift her up, aligning myself with her core.

  Thrust.

  A ripple of sensation moves through my veins.

  I slam inside.

  Pull out.

  Thrust.

  She can’t help but whimper every time I withdraw. Her nails grip at my skin. I increase my
speed, slamming inside her over and over again until she’s shuddering her orgasm.

  It’s too intense.

  It’s too fucking much.

  I want to taste her, feel her, own her all at the same time. This woman has me undone. Every muscle inside me tightens and I explode, too.

  As fast as I hit my high, I come crashing back to reality. I just let my boss fuck me on his desk. Oh my God. What have I done?

  I’ve been playing with fire for a long time, but there’s a big difference between making out and fucking him in the office. Not a huge difference, but shit.

  What have I become?

  My eyes shoot open. He’s still inside me. We’re still intertwined. His body is flush against my chest. I can feel each erratic beat of his heart as he regulates his breathing. As I regulate mine.

  I raise my hands and forcefully push him up. He lifts but doesn’t leave my body. His brows knit over unfocused eyes. “What’s going on? Why are you freaking out?”

  “You’ve got to get off me,” I say with more force, and he pulls out.

  “Bridget—” he starts, but I raise my hand.

  “Don’t. Don’t say anything. What the hell have we done?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want the first time to be like this. I just—”

  “Stop. We both did this, but we need to pull ourselves together. We’re in the office, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Breathe,” he says calmly. It’s as if he sees nothing wrong with this. How can I be the only one of us who sees what a colossal fuck-up this was?

  “We’re in the office. Anyone could’ve seen or heard us.” I throw my hands in the air. “What about the fact you’re married and we’re supposed to keep this under wraps as to not lose investors?”

  “You’re right. It was careless, but I don’t regret it.”

  “Your wife is in the building. You just cheated on her and she’s in the building.”