Mr One-Night Stand

by Rachael Stewart

  ‘Of course,’ he heard himself say. ‘Will you keep me posted?’

  ‘Absolutely, son. I’ll let you get back to it.’

  He felt lost. He didn’t know how to react, what to say. All he knew was that he hated the feeling working its way through his gut.

  ‘Marcus, are you still there?

  ‘Sorry, Pops. I’ll call you later?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He sensed his grandfather hanging up and the one thing he knew he had to say sprang forward. ‘Pops?’

  ‘Yes, son?’

  ‘Give her my love.’

  He heard him sigh down the line. ‘Of course.’

  And then he was gone.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Jennifer asked, stepping forward, one hand reaching out to rest on his arm.

  He stepped back instantly, breaking the contact, something like panic hitting him. The concern in her voice, the softness in her touch, was a soothing balm to the raging torrent within.

  How could she do that so effortlessly?

  His skin prickled, the chill intensifying as worry for his Gran heightened.

  ‘Marcus?’ She frowned up at him, arms returning to hug her middle. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s my grandmother.’ He walked away from her, eyes averted as he headed to his desk. ‘She’s in hospital. They suspect she’s suffered a stroke.’

  She made a small sound, but he refused to look her way, speaking before she had the chance to. ‘What did you need to see me for?’

  ‘Marcus,’ she said softly, ‘look at me.’

  Christ, couldn’t she take the hint?

  He didn’t want to talk about it. Not with her. Not with anyone.

  He shut his face down and forced his eyes to do her bidding. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  She studied him, the bright office lights glinting in her compassion-filled gaze. ‘Okay, but don’t you think you should be leaving?’

  ‘Leaving?’ He frowned at her. ‘Are you mad? We have a product meeting in under an hour.’

  She mimicked his frown. ‘And the woman who practically raised you is lying in a hospital bed!’

  ‘Apparently she’s stable...she’s doing well.’ He threw his grandfather’s reassurances at her, purposefully ignoring the tug of her words. ‘She doesn’t need me there.’

  ‘Of course she needs you there.’ She stepped towards him, stopping as he backed up again. ‘You should go.’

  Go. Go back. To Wales.

  His stomach clenched and he shook his head at her, turning away once more. What could she know of it? She’d never understand.

  ‘Did you need me urgently, or can it wait until later?’ he asked.

  ‘Marcus, for what it’s worth, time is precious,’ she said. ‘I’d give anything to have had more with my father. Like I’m sure you would with your mum.’

  He clamped his eyes shut, grateful she couldn’t see the effect her words were having.

  ‘Don’t let this...whatever it is...get in the way of the time you have left with your grandparents.’

  She went quiet, the room with it. And he refused to turn, to move, any response impossible.

  Eventually she sighed, and the sound of her heels clipping against the tiled floor told him she was leaving. Relief mingled with an irrational surge of disappointment.

  ‘Please,’ he heard her say as the door swung open, ‘just think about it. I can hold the fort here.’

  And then she was gone, the door clicking shut, her heels receding on the other side.

  Above the churning a warmth started to spread—admiration, respect, something more...? Damned if he knew. Her concern for him, for his situation, flummoxed him. The sensation swelled with freakish intent and confusion paralysed him to the spot.

  What the hell did he do with any of it?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CONCENTRATE, JENNIFER. IT’S none of your business. It’s not your concern...

  The document on the screen before her swirled grey over white, not making sense. It had been the same for most of the day—as if she was in some weird state of limbo, swinging from the need to go to him and demand that he leave to wanting to maintain her professional distance and keeping well out of it.

  She’d already overstepped. She knew it. But she hadn’t been able to help herself. Not when she’d seen the distress in every line of his beautiful face. And her worry had only mounted when he had not left. Not only that, he’d barely spoken to her—barely even looked at her since.

  She felt crushed. The terrifying realisation had hit home that she cared far too much—that against her better judgement and her best-laid plans for the future he’d got under her skin. When she’d looked into his eyes and seen the desolation, the fear and the confusion, she’d wanted desperately to go to him, to soothe it away. But he’d made it clear he wanted none of that from her. In fact, he couldn’t have moved away faster or dismissed her any more decisively.

  She should be grateful for the reminder of where their professional line lay. But it wasn’t gratitude making her gut ache and her mind wander...

  She pressed a hand to her tummy, closing her eyes slowly and opening them on the computer screen, refocusing her efforts.

  There were things she had to get done...things that were her responsibility.

  A sharp rap on the door had her jumping and she looked up to the glass as Anna swung it open. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but have you seen the time?’

  She stilled, her eyes snapping to the clock on her screen. Shit—she had forty-five minutes until her train to Leeds departed.

  How could she have lost sight of that?

  She shot up.

  What a damn stupid question.

  She started shoving things into her bag, her mind racing with what she needed to take.

  ‘Sorry—I would’ve come sooner, only I’ve been wrestling with that bloody photocopier again.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. I might just—’

  ‘What’s the hurry?’

  In her panic she hadn’t seen Marcus approach, hadn’t even sensed it, and now he was in the same room with no forewarning and she struggled to breathe.

  ‘Jennifer’s late for her train to Leeds,’ Anna supplied.

  She plucked her loaded bag off the desk and headed straight for them, eyes averted and grabbing her coat off the stand as she went. ‘I have to get home to my family.’

  They parted for her to pass, but she could feel him move, hot on her tail.

  ‘Colin will get you to the station.’

  She paused, turning to argue.

  Don’t be an idiot—not when he’s the best chance you have.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He was already activating his mobile and she looked to Anna—anything to ease his pull and the painful ache that now accompanied it.

  ‘Do you have those info packs for me?’

  ‘Sure.’

  She headed to her desk and gathered them up while Marcus issued his driver with instructions and hung up.

  ‘I’ll join you in the car,’ he said to her. ‘There’s something we need to discuss.’

  Her lips parted with another impulsive refusal but Anna’s return silenced her.

  ‘Here you go.’ She passed her the documentation. ‘They have Lucy’s approval.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She slotted them into her bag and managed a farewell smile. ‘Have a good weekend.’

  ‘You too.’

  She watched her PA turn and walk away, her nerves rocketing as she was left with Marcus. Pretty much just the two of them in the open office, most of the staff having escaped for after-work drinks to ring in the weekend. But they might as well have been in a broom cupboard for the effect his nearness was having on her.

  ‘He’s ready for us,’ he said,
urging her to the lift.

  She took in his black shirt, sleeves rolled back, collar open, and self-preservation took charge. ‘Do you want to get a jacket first?’

  ‘I’m good.’

  She met his darkened gaze and tripped out.

  This is madness. Make your own way...miss the train...get another—anything but... Christ, did he want to talk privately to tell her she’d overstepped?

  Heat flooded her cheeks.

  God, no, she knew that well enough already. She didn’t—

  His hand curved around her elbow and her head emptied, her body being propelled forth under his encouragement.

  Outside, Colin stood, rear door of the car open and at the ready. He’d got his instructions well enough, and no sooner were they inside than he was in the front and pulling out into traffic.

  ‘You didn’t need to do this,’ she said, her sights fixed on the outside world speeding past, her hands gripped together on her lap.

  ‘I wanted the opportunity to apologise.’

  Surprise had her eyes sweeping to his. ‘What for?’

  ‘This morning. I was short with you.’

  He shook his head, the movement sending a lock of hair across his forehead and drawing her eye to the crazy state of the remainder. A sign of much hand-thrusting that day, she was sure.

  Sadness consumed her. He should’ve gone.

  She looked away before he could read her. ‘It wasn’t my place to get involved. I shouldn’t have interfered.’

  ‘Be that as it may, you were right.’

  Her chest tightened, her throat with it, and she straightened her spine. ‘I was?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He reached out to brush some escaped hair behind her ear and her breath caught. A red-hot shiver ran to her core, a warmth taking up camp there that she was powerless to prevent.

  ‘I didn’t like hearing it but, yes, you were right. I need to go.’

  ‘Then why are you still here?’ she asked, relief at his decision drowned out by the over-familiarity of his touch.

  Don’t soften. It’s good that he’s going but it doesn’t change who he is to you. Who you are to him. Business partners. No more.

  ‘Why delay by taking me to the station?’

  ‘Because you need to make your train and I needed to apologise. Don’t worry—I’m leaving straight after. My grandparents already know I’m coming.’ His eyes turned inward momentarily as a smile played about his lips. ‘It felt good to tell them. And I have you to thank for that.’

  He studied her, eyes unwavering. The air was charged with an unidentifiable emotion and she struggled to say, ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Me too,’ he said softly. ‘I would have left earlier but there were things I needed to take care of—and then there was you. I couldn’t go without apologising. And, though I hate to admit it, building up the nerve has taken some doing.’

  ‘Chicken?’ The realisation ripped through the heavy mood, making her feel strangely light-headed.

  He grinned that grin. ‘Something like that. I’m not one for admitting I was wrong.’

  She returned his smile, his honesty making it impossible not to. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘But there’s something else I need to discuss before I disappear off.’

  Her skin prickled, her smile becoming forced, ‘Something else?’

  He nodded, and the deepening sincerity in his gaze held her captive as he reached out.

  ‘The truth is, I’ve not been myself all week because of you.’

  His fingers brushed the nape of her neck and the red-hot shiver sparked anew, multiplying fiercely.

  ‘Trying to act like nothing happened between us has been torture. Knowing you’re there, just down the corridor, and I can’t have you—it’s all I can think about.’

  She clutched her hands in her lap, unable to look away, unable to move, the fear of what she might do holding her still as the warmth in the pit of her belly became a rolling ache.

  ‘I can’t work,’ he continued. ‘I can’t sleep. I can’t go home without the memory of you being there plaguing me, teasing me...’

  His honesty pushed through her defences, toying with her heartstrings, teasing her with a multitude of possibilities that no amount of trepidation could quell.

  ‘The truth is...’ he repeated, and her every sense waited for what he would confess next, a spark of hope flaring that had no right to exist. ‘I don’t think I can function properly without having you, without letting this thing between us take its course.’

  She frowned, a real chill working its way in.

  Take its course? Did he think it was finite? That he would wake up one morning and it would be gone—the want, the need, the persistent ache?

  Isn’t that what you thought? When you asked for that extra night, didn’t you hope it would do the same?

  Hell, she knew better now.

  It wasn’t that simple.

  Not for her.

  She took hold of his fingers, forcing herself to stop his heady caress. ‘Please don’t, Marcus.’

  She sounded weak, but her hand lifted his away and she returned her own to her lap, her eyes to the window.

  ‘Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too,’ he pushed. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t struggled all week. I know you’ve tried to avoid me. I’ve seen how you escape the office. I’ve seen how you look my way when you think people aren’t looking.’

  She swallowed, shaking her head in denial.

  ‘And these,’ he said, gently flicking the crystal droplet hanging from the ear that was closest to him, ‘are killing me.’

  What?

  She looked to him, brow furrowed. ‘Why?’

  ‘The way they swing when you move your head, like they did just then... You do it in meetings and I’m sucked right in, drawn to the skin just here.’ He swirled the pad of his thumb over the exact spot. ‘Remembering how it feels, how it tastes, how it makes you whimper...’

  Christ, she wanted to whimper right now—could feel the need bursting through her.

  Don’t do it.

  ‘You know what else it makes me want to do?’

  She felt her head shake and he leant in, his breath sweeping over her sensitised neck and making her tremble with want even as her brain screamed Stop him!

  ‘It makes me want to drive that sound out of you...that small, tiny noise that starts just here,’ he whispered, his mouth devouring the space his fingers had just occupied.

  Her body exploded in a rush, that whimper breaking free, the impulsive sound jarring out as a feeble, ‘Don’t...’

  ‘Why?’ he rasped with need, cajoling her along despite everything else telling her otherwise. ‘Why deny something that feels so right?’

  ‘Because it’s bad for business.’

  ‘Denying it is bad for business.’

  His tongue did a crazy dance over her skin, prickling over the area with dizzying effect.

  ‘Or are you telling me your week has been particularly fruitful?’

  As he said the words he curved his hand around her neck on the other side, coaxing her to arch her neck and grant him greater access.

  ‘Christ, Marcus, I’m trying to save us from potential disaster.’

  She was trying to save herself from a broken heart.

  ‘I admire your diligence,’ he whispered against her dampened skin, ‘but you’re worth the risk.’

  Why did that feel so special? Why had her tummy gone to goo?

  Something broke inside her—something that drove her hands into his hair and turned her body to liquid beneath him. It was the need to have him fill her, complete her, take away the painful ache, the worrying thoughts...

  ‘You taste like honey and vanilla,’ he breathed against her, his fingers following the arch of her neck, stroking
across the curve of her collarbone and dipping to meet with the fastened buttons of her blouse.

  And then his fingers were undoing, and she couldn’t stop him—didn’t want to. The throb between her legs was desperate, her breathing erratic, her nails biting into his scalp.

  He parted the fabric, letting the cool air of the car sweep across her front, and he cursed under his breath. ‘I can’t get enough of this.’

  She looked to him through the haze, saw his gaze burning into her skin and she hit insanity, the lust curling through her obliterating all reason.

  ‘I need to taste you.’

  His voice was raw, his face asking for permission and, Christ, she couldn’t speak, could only nod.

  ‘We don’t have long.’

  It seemed he was making excuses, but for what she couldn’t understand—until he dropped to his knees and pushed her skirt to her thighs.

  ‘I’d devour every last bit of you if we had the time, but as it is...’

  Cupping her behind, he pulled her forward and shoved her legs apart, pressing her knees back against the cold leather. Somewhere in the rational part of her brain she knew she wanted to fight him, and knew why, but the painful reasoning, the painful ache—she wanted it all gone.

  Obliterated by him.

  ‘Hold yourself open for me.’ He drew her hands in to replace his own, coaxing her to obey. ‘That’s it...’

  He rested back, his eyes drinking her in, his burning desire choking the very air from her lungs, and then he reached out, hooking his fingers into her lace panties and pulling them aside, his free hand coming up to spread her open before him.

  ‘So wet...so fucking beautiful,’ he murmured, his head dropping forward, his mouth honing in on its target.

  Fuck!

  She threw her head back into the leather, a spasm shooting through her as he took her clit in his teeth. Pleasure ripped through her, and her nails bit into the skin of her inner thighs as she held herself open.

  He worked her, his mouth sucking, tongue flicking, teeth nipping. And then his fingers thrust into her, invading her like his cock would. One, two—yes, fuck, yes—three, four—Christ, yes. She ground herself against him wildly. She couldn’t fit more...she couldn’t—and then he curved in his thumb, his whole hand fucking her deep as his tongue lashed over her clit.