by Jenn Hype
She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. The sleeveless off-white dress that stopped just above her knees made her look sophisticated and even a little angelic, but her pretty face was all twisted up with an ugly scowl. Pity that the beautiful ones always seemed to have the ugliest personalities. The one before me was probably their evil queen.
“Are you deaf? I said I need to speak with Christopher.”
“Errmmm, Christopher?”
Way to show how eloquent and educated you are, dumbass.
Prissy Von Pussface rolled her eyes at me. “No wonder I haven’t been able to reach him. His secretary,” she said like it was a dirty word, “is mentally disabled.” She bent her knees slightly then started speaking in loud, slow syllables. “Me. Need. To. Talk. To. Your. Boss.” Bitch even used little hand movements. In case I didn’t hear her shouting five inches in front of me.
Somewhere in my head I knew that I was at work. That a professional would handle the situation with a placid smile and fake politeness. But the problem with that, you see, is that I was no professional. I grew up in the south, and not the part where southern belles and polite social etiquette was practiced. I grew up in the deep south, the part that doesn’t tolerate ignorant assholes talking to you like you were a dumb, backwater hick.
So instead of responding like I was at my place of employment, I responded the only way that came naturally to me. Even thickened my drawl for emphasis.
“Well, shoot, darlin’. Why didn’t ya just say so? Just sit down in one of them seats right o’er there and I’ll mosey on into the boss man’s office and tell him he’s got a guest waitin’ to see him.”
Prissy looked appalled, then nervous - like I might pull out a shotgun and mistake her duckface as her being an actual duck during hunting season - and she slowly walked to the set of chairs near the entrance. She eyed me warily. I winked and tipped an imaginary hat at her before knocking on CJ’s door. Immediately it flew open and a hand grabbed my wrist tight enough that I’d probably have a bruise in the morning, then yanked me inside.
“Hi-yah!” I yelled, karate chopping CJ’s arm.
“Dammit!” He whined, rubbing his forearm even though there was no way I’d actually hurt him. Big baby. His forearm was harder than steel.
“Well, you scared me! I reacted!” It was only half a lie. He did startle me, but it’s not like I didn’t know who had grabbed me. Even if it hadn’t been his office door I was knocking on, his cologne or whatever it was that made him smell so amazing had become permanently ingrained in my memory. Men seriously underestimate how much of a turn on it is when they smell good. CJ’s scent was uniquely masculine. One sniff of him and my panties were wet. Sad? Pathetic? Flat out wrong? Yes. But I couldn’t control it. It was a primal reaction, completely out of my control.
“Make her leave!” He whisper-yelled.
Man looked straight-up scared. Six-foot-four, giant muscles, war hero and all around badass was scared of a prickly snot that he could snap in half like a twig.
His wide eyes were practically begging me to help him. What else could I do but fall over myself laughing?
“Will you shut up and figure out how to get rid of her? I can’t deal with her today and if she comes in here, I’ll wind up being a giant dick.”
When I laughed harder, he pulled me up and wrapped his arm around my head, covering my mouth with his hand. Which he promptly removed. “Ew, did you just lick me?”
I shrugged. “Don’t put your hand on my mouth. And I’ll get rid of her for you on one condition.”
For the first time since he dragged me into his office, he didn’t look scared. He got that annoyed, untrusting look about him that so often took over his face when I was in the general vicinity.
“You have to tell me who she is and why you’re being such a pansy about talking to her yourself.”
He didn’t say anything, so what else could I do but just fill in the blanks myself?
“Ugh, is she some kind of ex-lover scorned? Do your hookups go all Fatal Attraction on you, or something? Coz I gotta tell you, dealing with crazy exes is not part of my job description. And as far as crazies go, you definitely picked a doozy with that one.”
I mentally patted myself on the back for sounding only disgusted and not at all jealous. And I was totally jealous. Not just a little. I was like, murderously jealous. It was an odd sensation. I’d never felt jealousy over a guy, even serious boyfriends. A gorgeous woman could flirt with them right in front of my face and I would shrug it off like no big deal. But just the idea of CJ with another woman? My cat claws were showing.
CJ’s frantic eyes and frown slowly morphed into something dangerous. Knowing. Apparently I hadn’t kept the jealousy out of my voice as much as I’d thought.
“That bother you?”
“Hmm?” I hummed, trying my best to avoid looking at his shit-eating grin.
“You’re jealous.”
“Pssshaw. Me? Jealous? That’s just…nuts.”
Too much, Myers. You’re laying it on too thick. Dial it back.
“You’re lying.”
CJ took a step towards me. I took one backwards. We did this until he had me backed up against the wall.
“Ask me,” he demanded, closing the distance between us even more. I pretended to be confused while my eyes darted around, looking for an escape. “Ask me,” he ordered again. “Ask me if I’ve slept with her.”
I shook my head no, but my stupid mouth wasn’t following orders. My voice was quiet, hesitant. “D-did you sleep w-with her?”
Shitdamnfrack. He had me stuttering? I didn’t stutter. Or I didn’t used to, anyway.
“I haven’t. And do you want to know why?”
This time when I shook my head no, I meant it. But then he took one last step, putting us toe-to-toe. I was wearing heels, but the added three inches only put me eye-level with his chest. Which I remained focused on. Looking at him? It just wasn’t an option at the moment.
“I don’t sleep with women I know. Women I might run into again. I don’t bother remembering their names or getting their phone numbers.”
Uhhh. Was this his idea of dirty talk? Because the tension in the room was hella hot, but he just killed my ladyboner by acting like the world’s most giant douche.
His fingers lightly gripped my chin, tilting my face upwards. When I tried to jerk my head back to look away, his hand moved to my neck to hold my head in place. Despite the slight revulsion his words just a second ago shot through me, I stupidly found myself shuddering from the touch of his hand.
“Do you know why I do that? Why I keep myself so detached from the women I take to my bed?”
“Because you’re an asshole?”
CJ smirked. “I’m sure that’s partly true, but it’s not the main reason.”
“Which is?” I drawled with irritation. He obviously wasn’t going to let me leave until he’d said all the douchey things imaginable, so at that point I just wanted him to get it over with.
“Because I can’t do complicated. I’m not good for any woman, so I don’t make promises I can’t keep. The women who come to my bed know what they’re getting and they’re okay with it. They get my body and all the physical pleasure I can give them for one night, and that’s all. I have nothing else to offer.”
The strain in his voice lessened the blow of his words, but the impact on my heart was still harsh. He wasn’t bragging like some womanizing asswad. He was confessing something painful to him. His hand slid from my neck to my cheek, his fingers in my hair and I couldn’t help but lean into his touch.
All thoughts of the bitchy woman waiting outside for him dissipated. Everything outside of CJ and his calloused skin lightly cupping my face faded away. The shutters were down and I was getting a glimpse at the real CJ. As far as rare sightings go, this was comparable to spotting a beautiful unicorn up close only to find it with a broken leg and tear-filled eyes.
I understood then, the unspoken warning to be read betwe
en the lines. He wanted me, but he didn’t want to want me. Because that meant complicating things in just about every way possible. My very existence complicated his life. Giving in to the sexual tension between us would likely wind up with a messy explosion in the end. He was asking me to be the strong one. To pull back, tell him no, put a halt to whatever it was that continued growing between us daily.
But by asking me to walk away, he had no idea that he’d just made it impossible. So I responded the only way I could.
I leaned up on my toes and lightly pressed my lips to his, then pulled back just slightly and waited.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CJ
“The madman is a dreamer awake.”
- Sigmund Freud
One touch. One soft, barely there swipe of Blake’s lips on mine was all it took. Whatever pathetic excuse for control I’d been clinging to before that one soft kiss blew away like a fucking balloon in the middle of a wind storm.
Blake tried to pull back, but I wasn’t having it. Before she could blink, I was pulling her mouth back to mine and unleashing all the pent up sexual tension that had been building up since the second I’d met her. The kiss was nothing like the first time, which had been more of a get-to-know-you, exploratory type of kiss. No, this one was bruising, frantic and so fucking hot, I almost came in my pants - no lie. With one hand gripping the back of her neck and the other snaking around her waist, I made sure there wasn’t an inch of space between us. Her breasts crushed against my chest, my hard-on pressing against her hip so hard I thought it might actually tear through my jeans just to get at her.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew we were at work. In my office, just like before. Only this time I had a client waiting for me just outside the door.
Did I give a shit?
Not in the least.
Not when Blake’s soft curves fit perfectly against my body. Not when her velvet tongue caressed mine in a way that brought forth visions of what else she could do with that talented mouth of hers. Not when her hips swiveled, or when she immediately ground down on my leg when I slipped it between hers.
The hand holding her neck slid down and cupped her breast. It fit perfectly in my hand, and the way she moaned into my mouth when I pinched her nipple through her dress made my dick grow impossibly harder. Her pussy continued to grind on my leg, her moans sneaking out between pants.
“Come for me, Blake,” I whispered when she tore her mouth from mine and buried her face in my neck. “Can you come like this? Can you come just from riding my leg?”
Teeth bit down into my shoulder, hard enough that I knew there’d still be a mark tomorrow. Then she was coming, her cries muffled as she bit down even harder.
The gravity of what had just happened hit as soon as Blake came down from her orgasm high. Once our breaths slowed and heartbeats started to return to normal. There was some throat clearing and awkward shuffling of feet. I knew I should do something like reach for her and kiss her, bring intimacy back to the moment. But I was too ashamed of myself for behaving so recklessly. I had no idea how loud we’d been, if Clarissa or any of the guys had been able to hear us.
My shame must have shown on my face, based on the hurt in Blake’s eyes. I wanted to say something to reassure her. To tell her what had just happened between us was amazing, perfect even. I must have hesitated for too long, trying to decide what to say, because Blake was already heading to the door. No coy smile or quick kiss goodbye, but this time she did turn around and look at me one last time before disappearing. I wished she hadn’t, because the look she gave me made me feel about two fucking feet tall.
-
For the rest of the day, I forced myself to focus on work. An hour after Blake walked out of my office, I received a phone call from Clarissa where she proceeded to yell at me for nearly an hour. I couldn’t even argue or defend my actions, so I just sat there and took it. Except for the few minutes I muted the phone and left it sit on my desk so I could run to the bathroom. Clarissa hadn’t even noticed I was missing.
As soon as she ended her rant, my mind automatically drifted back to thoughts of Blake, so I dove back into work. Thinking of Blake came with too many reminders of all the shit in my life still not being dealt with. And call it selfish, but I just wanted one damn day to not feel like my world was caving in on me.
What was really fucked up? The person who made that weight on my shoulders lighten to almost bearable was the same person I couldn’t think about without having to deal with said weight. It was an endless fucking loop of chaos in my head, and by the end of the day, I had a migraine from all the not trying to think of Blake I’d done.
Luckily, Blake had left work early for the day shortly after things got way more heated than should ever be allowed in my place of work. Something to do with her sister, though I didn’t want to pry. Which was why I still hadn’t looked at anything in the folder Reed gave me. But Blake ducking out early gave me some much needed space. Space I knew I couldn’t get by avoiding her like I’d been doing lately. We crossed a line and I couldn’t bring myself to want to take it back, but it meant hiding wasn’t an option. I’m a dick, but not big enough of a dick to give a woman an orgasm and then hide. Hence the reason I never slept with women I knew.
I ran my hand down my face. When had things gotten so fucked up?
I powered down my computer and decided to call it quits for the day. It was rare I left the office before eight unless I had a client meeting or work in the field, but my concentration was shot. Typically, the only thing that would help me block out the bullshit running through my head would be a one-on-one meeting between my fists and a punching bag. Today, though, I found myself climbing into my truck and driving towards my home. Not my apartment that I rarely spent any time in other than sleep, but my childhood home.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d turned to my family for comfort. Probably since before I joined the military. Dad always worked long hours so my mom could stay home with the kids, which left me being the man of the house. For all the bickering and typical bullshit siblings put each other through, I always made sure to be there when my sisters needed it. The first time Josi got drunk and needed a ride home, it was me she called. When Clara’s prom date stood her up, I was the one who stepped up as her date and then stood quietly with the chaperones, clenching my fists and fighting the urge to lecture her when she ditched me to dance with the prick who’d stood her up decided she was worthy of his attention all of a sudden.
For all the arguments and shit we constantly gave each other, we were still close. Or, we had been. Until I pulled away from them, like I did everyone else in my life. And it was the onslaught of guilt from that realization that had me texting them to meet me at mom’s. Both of them responded immediately saying they’d be there. No questions asked.
A rare moment of spontaneity gripped me and I yanked on my wheel, making an illegal u-turn in the middle of the street before pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store nearest mom’s house. Half an hour later I was walking through mom’s front door, plastic grocery bags in hand.
All three women sat at our dining room table, and all three sets of eyes turned to me the second my foot hit the floor of the entryway.
“Seege!” Clara called out. As a baby, she’d not been able to say CJ, and it always came out ‘seege’ which she still called me to this day.
“Hey, Clare-bear,” I said back, using her childhood nickname for the first time in nearly a decade. She yanked a couple bags out of my hands and spun around towards the kitchen, but I could have sworn I saw her eyes tear up just before she took off.
I didn’t have time to ponder on why she was upset. Josi accosted me next, stealing the rest of the bags I was holding.
“Good to see you, big brother,” she said with a kiss on the cheek before joining Clara in the kitchen.
Normally mom is the first one to attack me, but she stood in front of her chair still, unmoving. I took in the slight tremble of her chi
n and the way she tried to blink back tears. I’d done that. I’d become so mentally and emotionally absent that my own mother stood in stunned silence on the brink of crying, simply because I had stopped by to visit spur of the moment for the first time in years.
Without hesitation, I wrapped her small frame in my big arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey, Ma.”
She returned my embrace then pulled back, cupping my face with her hands. “My boy,” she said almost reverently. I choked down a thick swell of emotion and forced myself to smile for her. She sniffled and gave my cheek a pat before joining my sisters, who were elbowing each other and fighting over the sink.
“Girls! Stop that! I allowed you to help in the kitchen for a probationary period, but you keep squabbling and I’ll kick you out for good!”
Clara and Josi broke apart with mock scowls on their faces. I stood back and watched, my chest warming with the routine way all three women fought in the kitchen. It had been this way since mom started teaching us all to cook. Once the girls were old enough to help, I was kicked out and made to do tasks like mowing the lawn and other chores dad didn’t have time for because of work.
“Hey! Get your filthy paws away from my celery before I accidentally chop off one of your fingers and toss it in the pot on accident!” Clara scolded.
Josi laughed, popping the piece of stolen vegetable into her mouth. Then like any mature, adult sibling would do, she opened her mouth to show Clara the evidence of the chewed up food in her mouth.
Clara laughed and threw another hunk at her, yelping when mom snapped her butt with a dish towel.
“You girls are no better than you were as teenagers,” she muttered under her breath, a smile on her lips.