by Paige Cooper
The irritation inside me began to cloud my enjoyment. He always had to correct everything I did, no matter how well I might be doing it. It wasn’t like I was a novice salsa dancer. I’d been dancing for years.
We danced a little longer, the music bringing us together, but with each critique he passed on my form, my mood got darker.
“You need to do this seamlessly. Otherwise, it’ll look clunky to an audience,” Mark said as his hand pulled tighter around my waist.
I’d had enough.
I pulled away, moving my body off of his and ending our dance. I couldn’t handle being judged so harshly when I thought we were merely enjoying a dance together.
The heady feeling I had earlier slowly began to dissipate as I put distance between us. Being near Mark was intoxicating, but having his body pressed up against mine was enough to make me drunk.
I was no longer functioning on rationality or logic. Desire ran the ship now, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it when she was in control.
Mark stood still for a moment, looking at me with a strange expression on his face. When it was clear that the dance was over, he went back around to his computer and switched the music off.
“You’re a great salsa dancer, really, but I think I like my class more—they’re far less critical of my movements,” I said dryly, taking another step away from Mark.
The further away I was from him, the more logical I became. Right? That’s how it was supposed to work, but every time he looked at me with those stormy eyes, I wanted to melt underneath him.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly.
I could see the hurt behind his eyes at my snide remark, and my heart softened.
“I should probably go,” I said, suddenly feeling tired. So much had happened in the space of a few hours, and I wasn’t processing any of this.
Had I really shared a dance with my boss? Somewhere inside me, I thought I should feel mortified, but instead, I felt a craving. A hunger. Something unexplainable.
“Please stay, have one drink with me. We danced together. We owe one another a drink.” Mark shrugged as he walked over to his cabinet, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of scotch.
“I don’t know, it’s late. And I really should get home.” I tried to think of more excuses as to why I should leave.
He’s your boss, and you’re his secretary. That is all the reason you need.
Logic screamed inside my head. And yet, feeling defied logic every single time.
Even if I left right now, salsa night would be finished by the time I made it back across town. Then I’d be stuck alone in my apartment on a Thursday night. Maryann was with Dad tonight, which meant I wasn’t on duty. What did I have to lose by staying for a drink or two?
“I normally don’t drink scotch,” I said instead, taking a seat on the sofa that I’d always dreamed of sitting on since I first saw it in his office.
It was a dark leather but felt soft and plush underneath my body. I settled into it, looking over at Mark as he made his way to me with the drink.
“Try it. You might like it. I’d offer you something else, but I’m afraid hard liquor is all I’ve got in here.” He handed me a glass of dark scotch.
Begrudgingly, I took the glass and sipped on the liquor. It burned the back of my throat and made its mark on the inside of my body as it traveled to my tummy.
I pulled a face and shook my head. I would drink it, but I wasn’t going to enjoy it all the way.
“I have a room that’s more comfortable,” Mark said, surprising me with his forwardness.
Once again, his hand was held up in front of me, and I took it. He guided me to an area of the office I thought was merely storage, but when he pulled back a curtain, it revealed another door that led into a separate room.
“How have you been hiding this from me the entire time?” I asked, looking around the large and open space. Blinds were pulled down over windows that faced the city. There was a large bed in the room and an additional living area with similar sofas to what Mark had in his main office.
The room was simply decorated, much like his apartment.
“I sleep here sometimes, when I work too late to go home. Not often, but often enough to warrant a good place to rest my head every now and then.”
He guided us toward the sitting area, and I nestled myself on the replica of the sofa I was on before. Throw pillows decorated the sofa, making it more inviting to lounge on.
I took another deep sip of the scotch. My spine shivered as the alcohol traveled through my system.
“Where did you learn to salsa dance like that?” I asked suddenly, remembering the intimate way our bodies were pressed up against one another moments before.
“I had an ex-girlfriend who was a very good dancer. She taught me.” He took a gulp from his own glass and stared straight at me.
This was the longest we’d looked into one another’s eyes. I felt slightly unnerved with his gaze focused on me. My heart thumped against my neck, and with every breath, I felt it beat in my body. At least I knew I was alive.
“Oh, what happened?”
“We weren’t compatible. I’m married to my work, and she wanted someone with more free time.” He shrugged arbitrarily, but I noticed a hint of hurt flashing behind his eyes.
So, he was capable of feeling, after all. This side of Mark was a stark contrast to every other image he’d given me here at the office. Instead of the usual poised and callous boss, I was seeing an open and flirty side of him.
“What about you?” he asked suddenly, switching the spotlight onto me.
“What do you mean?”
“Any boyfriends? Broken hearts?”
“Not for a while. I suppose you could say I’m out of commission, especially with my dad,” I said, a hint of sadness creeping into my voice.
“I haven’t wanted to pry, but what’s wrong with your dad? You often leave here to go to him.” Mark’s fingers lightly touched my chin and brought my eyes back up to his after I’d looked down at my lap.
Suddenly, we were inches apart on the sofa.
Somewhere between our dance and the first glass of scotch I’d managed to drink, I’d kicked off my heels—a fact that was highlighted by Mark’s bare toes that touched the tips of mine. He’d lost his shoes somewhere, too.
“Early-onset dementia,” I said simply, not wanting to pull off the bandaid I’d stuck on the scar that said ‘dad.’ But I found myself being open and honest with Mark. I wanted to share with him the weight I carried on my shoulders.
I lifted my glass to my lips, thinking it would be close to empty, but it had somehow been replenished. I couldn’t really focus on the words Mark was saying or where our conversation was going. All I thought about were his full lips and his cloudy gray eyes.
Somehow I registered that he was saying sorry about my dad’s diagnosis, but even that was a blur in the background. I leaned in closer to Mark, trying to make out what he was saying.
“So, will you?
“Will I what?” I asked, looking up at him again as if for the first time.
I really needed to get a grip on myself. I placed the empty scotch glass on the table in front of us and settled back on the sofa. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered what time it was, and I realized I should be getting home before it was too late.
“There’s the Hope for All charity coming up that the firm is sponsoring. It’s a massive gala night. We’re supposed to get all dressed up and raise hideous amounts of money, but at least it all goes to a good cause. I hate going to them,” Mark explained, setting his empty glass down next to mine.
He moved up on the sofa, coming closer toward my face.
“What about the charity?” I whispered breathlessly, leaning my body closer to his. There was a finger’s space of distance between our bodies and a hair’s breadth between our lips.
I’d long surpassed the time to get up and leave.
Mark left my question unanswered as h
e gently slipped his fingers under my chin and pulled me the last few millimeters closer.
His lips brushed against mine in a soft and tender kiss.
My first instinct was to move back, but the taste of the cinnamon underneath the scotch had me melting against him.
I kissed him back, moving my hands around his shoulders and to the back of his neck. My fingers laced themselves into his hair, and I moaned against his lips.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you from the first day I met you.” Mark’s husky voice enveloped me.
Without another word, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. I straddled him, my legs on either side of his.
I kissed him first this time, our lips meeting in a frenzied need. Kissing Mark was like finally gasping oxygen when you’ve gone too long without any.
I felt him spring to life underneath me, and I ground down against him.
Mark’s tongue slipped past my lips and danced with my tongue as he expertly slipped my salsa dress below my shoulders.
I didn’t know what I was doing other than kissing him, and being here with him now was what my mind, body, and soul needed. Every touch, every kiss felt like an explosion against my nerves. I didn’t think I would ever be able to kiss anyone else again in my life.
Chapter 16: Mark
A pounding sounded in my head, and my body fought against opening my eyes.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
I slipped a hand out from under me, rubbing it over my face. Where the hell was I?
Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, and with a jolt, I remembered where I was. I’d never left the office.
The smell of gardenia tickled my senses as I fully opened my eyes, looking out into the dark room.
I wasn’t sure what time it was, but no light came into the room, and I struggled to make out my hand in front of my eyes.
Nicole was curled up in my arms, her body warm and still.
A feeling of panic raised through my body, and I slowly pulled my arm out from under her sleeping body.
She looked so peaceful in her sleep, and she’d been so warm against me. I was tempted to stay and hold her longer in my arms. I really wanted to. It was torturous to move myself slowly off the bed and see her curled up with the sheets covering her body. I wasn’t sure how naked she was, but all I had on was my unbuttoned shirt and my boxers.
This was a new low, even for me. John didn’t want me sleeping with her, and I’d gone ahead and one-upped him by sleeping with her in the office.
Or had I? I held a hand up to my head, trying to steady the dizziness that threatened to bring me to my knees.
How much did we have to drink?
I stood over the bed and watched her for a minute. What did this mean? I barely remembered anything from the last few hours of my life.
A quick look at my watch told me it was barely 2 in the morning. I could slip home without being seen.
I looked down at Nicole one last time, fighting the urge to crawl back into bed with her and hold her close against my body.
She was soft, warm, and smelled like flowers. It was hard to resist the impulse to stay with her while I was battling off the remnants of the scotch we drank together.
I fumbled around the dark room quietly, searching for my missing pants. I wasn’t even going to bother with socks and shoes, but they were the first things I found in the dark room.
Nicole stirred in the bed, a soft sigh escaping her lips. I paused, like a deer caught in the headlights.
The air was thick with tension as I waited for her to settle down. The last thing I wanted was to be caught fleeing the scene in my underwear and undone shirt.
After a few seconds of silence, I heard her breathing return to a steady pace, and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d held in.
I stumbled across my pants, slipping them on and making my way back to my office. I caught a glimpse of the scotch bottle on the living room table, but I couldn’t make out how much was left in the darkness of the room.
Though, if I had to judge based on the ache inside my head, it was a whole lot more than I should have ever consumed.
I grabbed my jacket off my chair, opting to leave the curtains and door to the spare room in my office open. I didn’t want to risk waking Nicole up by drawing them shut. I did, however, extend the courtesy of shutting my office door. At least this way, if someone entered before I did, she’d have a heads up.
I was in no state to drive, which meant leaving my car at work. I’d long since let my driver go home, and the long walk to my apartment seemed impossible to accomplish with the hammer inside my head.
Luckily enough, a lone taxi stood outside the building, and I jumped at the opportunity.
“Finally, I was beginning to think the gal led me down a dead end,” a gruff voice came from the front seat as I slid into the back of the taxi.
“Excuse me?”
“The gal who went up into that building. She told me to wait here and you’d pay for the taxi. Didn’t she tell you?” the driver looked at me for the first time, taking in my unbuttoned shirt and disheveled appearance. I noted a smirk pulling at his lips.
“You’ve been waiting here for how long?” I asked, wanting to punch his smug face for what it implied. I only wished I knew if I’d actually slept with her.
“Five hours. You’re lucky I had nothing else to do, and leaving this meter running has been my saving grace. I’ll take you where you need to go, but only once you pay her fare,” he said, holding out his hand.
I squinted as I struggled to read the name on the license card copy that was pasted in the taxi. Arnold. That was what it said.
“Here, Arnold, take this and shut up the rest of the way while you drive me home. You can keep the tip if you do,” I grunted, throwing him 400 dollars and leaning against the back of the seat.
Arnold’s eyes glinted as he stuffed the money into his pocket, making a zipped-lipped motion. He turned forward and put the cab into gear.
I’d have words with Nicole later about this, but for right now, I needed to get home and away from her.
Thankfully, to his credit, the cab driver was quiet the entire way home. He sent smirks my way every now and then, which I solidly ignored. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of engaging in talk about Nicole.
After ten minutes of a quiet ride through the mostly empty streets of Manhattan, we reached my apartment.
“Swanky.” Arnold whistled as he stared up at the building.
I slammed the cab door shut, not saying another word to him. He’d managed to get at least a 50 dollar tip from me. I’d done my share of charitable giving for the day.
I trundled up to my suite and made a beeline for the bathroom. There, I stripped completely naked and threw my clothes in the hamper.
I exercised control in every aspect of my life, including my home. I couldn’t stand it when clothes were strewn everywhere. As tired as I was and as tipsy as I felt, my inner self still demanded that I continue with my habits of control. It was one less thing to do in the morning.
Leave it to me to wake up in bed with the most beautiful woman I’d ever been attracted to and not remember if we actually had sex.
I groaned as I turned the shower on, turning the heat all the way up and the shower stream on full blast. I needed to wake myself up and get something in my stomach, or I’d have a killer hangover in a few hours.
Water cascaded down my body as I stepped into my shower. I tried to pull out memories from the evening, but all I could see were flashes.
I remembered kissing Nicole. Fuck. Her lips had been so soft against mine, and she’d tasted like blueberries. All I remembered was wanting more. And then taking more when I pulled her onto my lap.
And she hadn’t complained. She’d wanted me as much as I’d wanted her.
Another flash of her bare breast came to mind, and I tried holding onto it, but it was gone the minute I opened my eyes. Why couldn’t I remember anything?
A part of me wished I'd pulled the blankets down a little bit this morning. At least then I’d have the naked shape and dips of her hips in my mind.
After ten minutes and only a few shadows of my memories surfacing, I turned the shower off, towel-dried myself, and headed into the kitchen.
There was leftover pad thai in the fridge that I scarfed down cold. I was too inebriated to work the microwave right now, and honestly, who cared?
I hoped that Nicole wouldn’t be too pissed at me in the morning. We had a caseload of work, and I needed her to help me out.
She did a lot of things the way I liked them done—even if I would never admit that to her face. And I’d definitely need a cup of her coffee to get me going in the morning.
The watch on my wrist said it was now 2:45. If I went to sleep right now, I’d have enough time to sleep peacefully before starting work. I’d skip the gym to get an extra hour. That way, when I arrived at the office, I’d be bright-eyed and ready to go.
I turned off all the lights, securing the apartment before flopping into my bed naked.
Thoughts of Nicole had me hard, and I fell asleep fitfully, trying to call up memories of a night that eluded me. I wished I hadn’t drunk so much scotch.
I also wished I hadn’t left her naked in my office.
Chapter 17: Nicole
S unlight streamed onto my face. It wasn’t a pleasant way to wake up, and I tried to roll over and keep sleeping. I wasn’t ready to get out of bed.
I shimmied over to the other side of the bed when the smell of cinnamon and musk hit my nose. My eyes shot open and I sat bolt upright in bed.
The room was still dark because the blinds covering the windows were down, but a small stream of sunlight filtered into the room through the open door. I felt disoriented for a moment until all the memories from the night before hit me at once.
I was in Mark’s office. I grabbed the sheets, pulling them higher up around my naked body, and frantically looked around the room. There was no sign of Mark other than the smell of cinnamon lingering on the pillows.