I was done fighting my attraction to her. Because last night I felt as though something shifted between us. And if she was going to open that door, I was going to dive through it. “It would be wise not to wear stilettos, Miss McAlaster.”
“Noted.” She ended the call, and I grabbed my camera.
CHAPTER 20
Celeste
How was I going to face him? I’d now orgasmed twice just thinking about him, and opened the door to flirting, and we had to be pushed up against each other at this protest.
I was thrilled at the thought.
Mortified, and guilty. And thrilled.
Good girl. He’d purred into my ear, and I felt it in my core. You’re such a good girl.
I can be a very, very good girl. My traitorous thought echoed against the walls of my room. I looked over to the corner of my bed. I’d been a very bad girl a few minutes ago.
I shouldn’t cross that line with him. I couldn’t for obvious reasons. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the flirting. Kieran had no qualms about it. I wondered if she felt the same electric awakening around him that I did. Everyone had their “work” husbands and wives in the office, usually the person they worked most closely with. Many of us went out together regularly and two of my co-workers had gone so far as to get married.
So, his flirtation probably meant nothing. And neither did mine.
Nope, nothing at all.
I was a good girl, after all.
Cool as a cucumber.
Cool like the fucking embers of hell… which is where I deserved to go at this point my mind was so dirty thinking about him.
I bounded down the stairs, my throat dry with anticipation. Kieran waited for me, her hair tucked into a braid down her back. “Social media is already blowing up with videos.” She turned her screen to me to show the mass of people, mostly women, but clustered with male allies.
After a quick subway ride, we emerged onto a sidewalk crawling with people. The streets were flooded with a swell of chanting protesters. Kieran took my hand and we walked against the flow of bodies to a small park two blocks down and across the street. Most of our co-workers were already there. I picked Isaac out of the crowd instantly, his broad shoulders and black hair immediately distinguishable.
Damn he looked good in a tee-shirt in the summer sun.
When we finally made it across the river of protesters and approached our cluster of comrades, Isaac, as if sensing we were coming up behind him, turned to me and flashed a dazzling smile.
“Jeffrey was just congratulating me on the publication. I was just telling him you did most of the work.” Isaac pressed his hand to the small of my back and nudged me forward, towards Jeffrey and to his side.
He idly toyed with the end of my long braid, twisting the tail and letting go, resting his hand on the small of my back again for a second before shoving it into his pocket. My scalp tingled with the light pull of his fingertips, my stomach fluttered wildly at his touch on my spine.
“Have you seen how many times it’s been retweeted?” Jeffrey asked me, his red hair peeked from under his hat, blazing in the sunlight.
Our first release about the Moscow riot had gone viral on social media, the count was up in the hundreds of thousands. “It’s surreal,” I answered.
Kieran settled in next to me and took my hand. “You guys deserve it. They crashed at my place and worked around the clock. Michael better be giving you two a raise.”
I wasn’t used to being praised, and I shrugged off the compliments and congratulations of my co-workers. Isaac didn’t seem phased at all by the accolades. He accepted them graciously and made a sly remark about his genius being in the details. Everyone chuckled at that.
“You got the full Thompson effect this weekend, I bet.” Jeffrey and the others laughed, waiting for my response. “He driving you nuts, yet?”
I hadn’t. Not in the way they meant. Isaac hadn’t yelled at me or raged at my pace of work. He hadn’t so much as made a single negative comment about me, my work, my revision of his, or my method. He’d stopped antagonizing me sometime between the day I arrived in London and two weeks in when we’d settled into our routine.
I didn’t know how to respond. I just forced a smile. Isaac responded for me. “If you lot were as efficient as Celeste, I wouldn’t even have a reputation for being an ass.”
Everyone stared at me. My heart bounced to my throat.
“So the little experiment with co-authoring is working?” Payton slithered into the conversation. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”
“Isaac was just saying how great Celeste is,” Jeffrey filled him in.
Payton’s eyes narrowed to me, a single eyebrow quirking up. “They might as well pick a penname together. How lucky we all are to have you. Now none of us have to deal with Isaac’s moods.” His tone was, to everyone else, sarcastic and funny. They laughed, all understanding something I didn’t. But I felt the jealousy there. The way his eyes looked me up and down, searching for a weak spot.
I also felt Isaac’s gaze on me. I didn’t look up at him. This awkward conflict between Payton and Isaac was none of my business. “I just do my job,” I said firmly.
“Anyway,” Isaac cut in, “everyone upload all pictures to the company cloud and keep your socials linked to our website.”
Everyone pulled out their phones and took quick selfies with their closest work buddies. Isaac pulled the professional camera looped around his neck up and took one shot of us all. Payton switched places with him at my side and took one with Isaac and me at the center. Then everyone cleared and Isaac and I stood together a foot apart.
Kieran took the camera from Payton. “My God, for two people who spend over forty hours a week together you act like awkward acquaintances. Get together for a proper picture.” She looked at us through the camera’s lens and motioned with her hand for us to get closer.
Isaac wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I slipped my hand around his waist. The muscles of his back were hard and solid against me, my head resting by his chest.
“You could stand up, that would be nice,” he looked down at me, a devilish gleam in his eyes. Without my heels I was a foot shorter than him.
“Shut up and smile,” I turned away and smiled brightly. I was very, very, accustomed to short jokes. Being shorter than everyone in a crowd was a reality I’d come to terms with a long time ago.
He squeezed my shoulder and turned to the camera. We heard the shutter click and Kieran looked at the shot. She passed Isaac his camera and he lifted it without warning and the shutter clicked.
“Isaac!” Kieran swatted him. He took another. She laughed and the camera clicked again. She stepped back from him and posed several times.
“Got to make Jackson remember who he’s dealing with,” Isaac laughed, and Kieran pouted her lips sexily into the lens.
He angled the camera down so that I could see the photo he’d taken. He captured Kieran mid-laughter, eyes bright and zoomed in on her neck and face. I thought of Adela. The way her sexiness was captured in mundane, smiling pictures. Maybe Isaac had taken them. It made my stomach knot to think of it.
“How do I look?” Kieran peeked over my shoulder. “Isaac’s is a bit of a photographer. Has he ever told you that?”
“No, and neither did you.” I took in the images as he scrolled.
“You two talk about me?” Isaac laughed. “It’s not nice to gossip.”
Kieran winked up at him and took my hand. We walked in front of him, I heard the camera click once and looked over my shoulder at him. He took another picture and smiled up from the screen. Kieran shook her head as we joined the swell of protesters.
“Jackson is waiting for me at a coffee shop over there. I’ll see you in a minute.” Kieran left me, walking in front of Isaac, behind the work acquaintances that marched in line with Payton. Choosing the safer option, I fell into step with Isaac.
“This is so much bigger than I was expecting.” I leaned into Isa
ac so that he could hear me over the cacophonous crowd.
“And we still have several kilometers to the parliament building.”
“Maybe, they’ll be more inclined to talk to us now.” He took a quick picture of my devious grin. I covered the lens. “I hate having my picture taken.”
“I can tell. You have virtually no social media presence.” Isaac turned the camera towards me. “Camera loves you, though.”
“Have you been cyber-stalking me?” I laughed, turning my head to the sky and covering my face with my hands.
“You have no idea,” he leaned into me, bumping my shoulder playfully.
“And what did you find?"
“That you wiped out every account you have and most are set to private.” He laughed. “So nothing,” he added.
“I keep to myself,” I chuckled. The truth was, I deleted everything on my wedding day and deleted every app a few days later.
“I used to have a photography business,” Isaac said.
“Really?” His apartment hadn’t had any artwork that I could remember.
“I wanted to photograph for National Geographic, or something similar. All the photographs on my HRI work are mine. I used to pay my bills with photography.”
“I didn’t see that coming. At all.”
“There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.” Isaac took my hand and led me out of the crowd and into a park. “Come on,” he said as we cleared the sidewalk into the lush greenery. “We’ll cut through here and get to the front for some pictures.”
I followed him, looking back at our group over my shoulder. “What about—”
Isaac cut me off, “They won’t even notice we’re gone.”
We were walking so fast we were almost at a jog, so I picked up my pace to keep up with his long legs. Isaac broke into a jog also and we ran together, dodging picnics and people walking their dogs. Isaac had his camera in one hand and mine in the other. He tripped and stumbled, taking me with him. Thankfully we didn’t hit the floor, but the adrenaline of almost eating concrete sent us into a fit of breathless laughter. “Shit,” was all he said, as he regained his footing. I yelped and he pulled me back into our run.
“Sorry,” I called out to an elderly couple we whizzed by.
My side grew an aching stitch. However, my pride wouldn’t let me slow down, so I swallowed air and followed Isaac out of the park. We stopped against the stone entrance. I put my hands on my knees. “I’m so out of shape,” I wheezed.
“I’d say you’re in great form.” That damn camera clicked as I look up at him. He smirked at me and shrugged shamelessly.
He was atop the stone wall taking pictures of the crowd. I watched him. His brows stitched together, mouth slightly open as he judged when to freeze time. “What did you photograph?"
“In college?” He didn’t pause his work to look at me.
“For money,” I clarified.
His cheeks flushed and he hesitated. “Mostly women. Aspiring models. Divorcees. Married women. They pay a killing for a good picture.”
“I would never do a photoshoot,” I said, mostly to myself.
“For you, I’d do it for free.” He winked at me, mischief in his eyes. “Perk of dealing with me in the office.”
I scoffed, catching my breath at last. “I love a good protest,” I mused, looking out into the crowd, searching for our friends.
Isaac hopped down next to me. “The adrenaline makes me feel high.” He was right. The adrenaline I’d felt in the crush of people was unlike any other, amplified by our sprint to this spot. He wore a boyish look on his face, relaxed, excited, hopeful.
“Like no other,” I added.
“This is nothing. We all know the government is going to back down on this one.” He capped his camera lens. Isaac took my hand, lacing our fingers together, and led me into the crowd again. “We’ll meet them at parliament.”
I knew who he meant as we blended into the jostle of people. I chanted with them to free the women imprisoned from the protest. Justice for the women who had been swept up in the violence of the riot. Isaac chanted with us, his deep voice cutting through the lighter, airier voices of the women.
Our bodies touched everywhere as we marched in unison and the crowd thickened. First our shoulders bumping, then tripping over each other’s steps.
Isaac guided me in front of him as the street narrowed and we could see the Parliament building in the distance. His whole body aligned with mine and I found myself shamelessly pushing back into him. He gripped my waist and pulled his hips back away from mine. “Sorry,” he said into my ear. The depth and raspiness of his voice sank deliciously down my spine like warm honey dripping into a cup of hot tea.
I placed a hand on his and leaned back into him in response.
I felt him yield to my invitation and raised my fist to the sky, punctuating my chant with the crowd. His hands slid down the slope of my waist to my hips, going silent for a moment. I was hyper-aware of his hips against the small of my back, the way his fingertips pressed more roughly into me as he was pushed forward by the crowd, off-balance.
He let me go and I tried to give him some space. I didn’t want him to pull away, to stop this opportunistic press of our bodies. He might not want my advances. I had to accept that. Then I felt the leather strap come around my neck as he dropped his camera around me. Isaac ran his knuckles down from my elbow to my shoulder, slipped his hands to my waist again, sending my body into a yearning panic.
I felt the touch in my core. Tilted my head, begging his lips to find me there. The crowd was melting away from me, becoming a mass of swirling bodies, teetering me off balance as my whole being dissolved into the touch of his words against the exposed flesh of my neck. Everything turned hazy as our bodies aligned and he dipped his head closer to me.
“I don’t think you know what you do to me,” Isaac whispered hotly against my skin, every inch of me pricking to that caress.
My voice faltered, my whisper shaking, “You feel this too, right?” I said boldly.
“Yeah,” he answered. I turned my face to him. “I don’t want to, but I do.” His eyes were dark. “I shouldn’t.” It was barely audible. But he didn’t back away.
My mutinous fist slipped into his hair, touching the silken strands, grabbing the back of his neck, and pushing his lips into my skin. A hum of approval vibrated against the tender spot behind my ear. He gripped my wrist and pulled me out of the crowd in three strides and into an alleyway.
I pushed him against the brick between two parked vans. He pulled me into him by my hips and I stood on my toes to reach his lips. I opened to him, his demanding kiss intensified by his grip on my nape. He was solid and muscular under my frantic exploring. The cotton of his tee-shirt rough against my hands. I wanted to touch him underneath, feel the swarthy soft skin under our matching shirts.
Isaac smoothed a hand up and down my back. I arched into it. We were gasping for air, our tongues lacing and exploring each other. The smell of his cologne mixed with the flowery scent of my own. He nipped my lip between his teeth and I moaned at the violation. I kissed his freshly shaven jaw, following down the slope of his neck. His head rolled back against the brick wall behind him and I kissed his exposed Adam’s apple. I felt it bob as he swallowed.
His hands flew to my hair. I kissed the hollow between his collar bones.
Isaac looked down at me, our eyes met in silent consent. He hooked his hands under my thighs and I wrapped my legs around him as he turned my back to the van and sat me down on the hood. “Miss McAlaster, you’re blushing,” he traced my collarbone with one fingertip and turned my chin up to kiss me.
“It’s the adrenaline,” I answered against his lips.
He reached a hand under my shirt and dragged his gym calloused hands up my back. I was sweaty from the heat, my skin slick under him. “We shouldn’t do this here,” he murmured between my kisses. “Someone could catch us.”
It hit me as acutely as jumping into a freezing
lake.
What the hell am I doing?
I pushed him away, lust dilating his pupils still. His expression switched immediately… dread.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this at all.” I hopped off the van. Even then, as my head was screaming to stop, I still wanted to keep going. To kiss him forever. I was trembling, Isaac was in a similar state. I straightened my shirt and looked anywhere but at him.
He framed my face with his hands, forcing me to see him, to face him and my own inner desire. “No, we shouldn’t. But I really want to,” a naughty gleam in his smile.
Sex incarnate.
My body thrummed with pleasure as he traced a circle around my belly button.
“But we should stop while we’re ahead, yeah?” I couldn’t decide if it was a declaration or if he was convincing himself. He stepped away from me, adjusting his jeans. My hands shook as I brushed the dust from my butt and we laughed nervously… awkwardly… exactly as if we’d just been pushed up against a wall and on top of a van making out like horny teenagers. Isaac hung his camera around his neck and snapped a picture of me smoothing my hair. I shot him my best glare.
I watched Isaac run his tongue against his bright white canine as he looked me up and down. He took a piece of my hair, traced the semi-circle of my ear while tucking it back and wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck. He pulled me to him with that solitary hand, his voice a quiet rumble in my ear, “I,” his breath caught, “You make me feel,” he continued and stopped.
I closed my eyes and took a shaky deep breath. I felt his smile travel against my check to my lips. I ran my hands down his rippling abs one more time and dared to press my palm against the hard length of him through his jeans. I wanted to know… needed to know if his body was pulsing and aching like mine.
His tiny gasp stole my breathy sigh. He flicked his tongue against my bottom lip, tasting me and asking for more. “I know we shouldn’t,” he repeated, for himself, for me. He kissed me softly the sensation so light it was like the delicate caress of a butterfly’s wing, and continued, “But now you know where I stand when it comes to you.”
See You Monday: An Office Romance (Weekday series Book 1) Page 16