Blood rushed through my body with no disguising its intended destination. My cock jumped to life, straining against my suit pants.
Christ on a stick.
I breathed in, relishing the touch. Savoring it. Her eyes met mine, and she shook her head slowly. Like she had to fight to do it. Then she opened her sweet, full lips, and I waited for her to say something that matched the heat in her gaze. Anything. I’d take whatever she offered. Instead, she just let out a heavy sigh, then snapped her mouth shut, shook me off, and strode away.
More frustrated than ever, I watched her go before taking a moment to compose myself. By the time I got back to my so-called interview with the girl whose name I couldn’t even remember anymore, Aysia had left the bar completely. But my mind was a different story. There…she stuck. There…she kissed me and demanded that I leave with her. There…she lifted that polka dotted dress and let me touch her. Through all of the banal questions I directed at the potential office assistant, through all of her well-rehearsed responses, what I was doing in my head was running my tongue over the length of Aysia’s body.
“Marc?”
The honey blond woman was looking at me expectantly, and it took me a second to realize she was waiting for me to close the interview.
Fuck. So much for composure.
“Marc?” she said a second time.
“Mr. Diaz,” I corrected.
For a second, she looked taken aback, but her look quickly turned sultry. “I didn’t realize you were so old-fashioned.”
“It’s just professional,” I said coolly. “Thanks for making the extra effort today.”
“No problem.” She stood. “You’ll call me if I’ve got the job?”
“I will.”
She turned to go, but paused to look over her shoulder. “Even if I don’t get the job…you can still call me.”
Damn Aysia for being right.
I made myself nod politely. “Have a nice afternoon.”
The moment she was gone, I paid my tab and left. I was furious at myself all over again. I couldn’t shake it either. With each step closer to home, I got angrier. When I reached my own street—a full five and a half miles away—I was ready to fight a team of karate-trained bears. The internal tirade wouldn’t ease up, either.
Since when are you the kind of man who gets this worked up over a woman? Especially a woman you spent exactly one weekend with? One who clearly isn’t interested in reciprocating your—
My thoughts cut off abruptly as I reached the front step. On the edge of the top stair, with her polka dotted dress fanning out all around her, sat Aysia Banks.
* * * *
Aysia
“Don’t hire her,” I said, hating myself.
Marc’s brow crinkled. “What?”
“Don’t hire her,” I said again.
“Who?”
He sounded so utterly puzzled that a nearly hysterical giggle escaped my lips. “Kitty Ulrich, who else?”
“Oh. Can we talk about this inside?”
I shook my head, then changed my mind and nodded. It would be easier to present my craziness from the comfort of a couch. To rationalize it. And being inside had the added bonus of ensuring that he couldn’t just get rid of me by walking away. So I followed him into the condo—another Eco-Go design—and trailed behind him wordlessly as he led me to his door.
But once we’d stepped in, I couldn’t stop myself from blurting, “Hire a ninety-year old woman who has a neck that could possibly be turned into a purse.”
“A…what?”
“Purse.”
“Aysia.”
“Preferably a happily married lesbian grandma.”
“That’s pretty specific.”
“Seriously, Marc. If you hire a girl who looks like that, I’ll be sitting around my office the whole day just worrying about whether or not she’s trying to climb into your lap.”
He didn’t answer right away, and I knew it was because I’d gone too far. Here I was, insisting that he not take an interest in a flirty, attractive woman, while also insisting that he and I not see each other. Clearly, I’d gone bat-shit crazy. Clearly, I was a now a selfish bitch. With zero self-control. Somehow, sex with Marc had flipped a switch in my brain.
I waited for him to tell me to leave, watching nervously as he slid his feet out of his shoes, deposited his keys in a basket on a shelf beside the door, then removed his jacket and his tie. Each step was painfully slow. I fought an urge to help him along. If just to get the process of having me forcibly removed over with.
But when he was done, he just said, “I’m not going to hire her.”
My reply was a relieved squeak. “You’re not?”
“No.”
I followed him from the entryway into the sparsely furnished living room. He gestured to the only seating option in the room—a wide leather chair. I perched on the edge of it, still tense and anticipating an attacking accusation of some kind.
“Don’t mind the lack of mess,” Marc said. “Every time I order something, it goes wrong.”
“That sucks,” I replied lamely.
“The furniture store sent me a red couch.”
“I like red.”
“This was not a nice red. More like a two-dollar-hooker kinda red.”
“Oh. You’re right. That’s not good.”
Marc shook his head and leaned against the windowsill closest to me. “Nope. Not at all. I ordered some art, too. A couple of framed prints. Got a set of Disney-themed posters instead. Nothing like a grown man with a giant cartoon mermaid on his wall.”
Some of my tension eased as I laughed. “You probably need to stop shopping online. Didn’t you bring anything with you when you left L.A.?”
He shook his head. “Sold my place furnished. Stored my personal items at my parents’ place. It was kind of last minute. Mike said he needed me pretty damned quick.”
“And you dropped everything that easily?”
“I don’t know if it was easy. But Mike’s family. If it hadn’t been for him, my parents would’ve lost everything.”
He went on, explaining how his father had been caught in a scam, and how the resulting fraud cost him his life savings. Mike Roper, a friend since the two older men were children, swooped in with not just a bailout, but with a team of people to repair the damage that had been done. Without hesitation and without judgement.
“There were a lot of people who said they were sympathetic,” Marc told her. “But they couldn’t get past the fact that my dad was naïve enough to fall for a real estate scam. My parents lost friends as well as money, but they never lost Mike. I was only twenty-two when it happened, so I remember it all. Stuck with me.”
My heart swelled with renewed admiration, and in spite of the way I told it to keep calm, it thumped a little harder. I didn’t want to like him anymore than I already did. But I couldn’t seem to help it.
“So is it a short-term thing? You aren’t really expecting to take over Eco-Go?” I asked, not sure if I was more worried that he would say he’d be leaving, or if I was more scared of what it would mean if he was staying.
He pushed up from the windowsill and paced the room. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to think of it as me betraying Mike’s trust, okay? He hasn’t asked me not to tell anyone, but I’d really prefer you to think of it as me confiding in you.”
“All right.”
“Mike’s wife—Ruby—is sick. Terminally ill.”
Now my heart squeezed. “Oh, no.”
Marc nodded, his face full of undisguised sadness. “They found out a few weeks ago. This four-day boat trip they’re taking is the first thing on a three-month bucket list. I don’t know if Mike is expecting me to take over as CEO, or if he’ll want to dive back in after Ruby goes. I’m not going to ask. But they ha
ve no kids of their own, and they’re like a second set of parents to me. I’ll do whatever Mike needs me to for however long he needs me to do it.”
Before I could even think about, I was on my feet, moving to wrap my arms around him. I tucked myself against his body and pushed my hands into his lower back squeezing him tightly. He stiffened for a moment, then gently dropped his chin to the top of my head and hugged me back. We stood that way long enough for me to notice again how well we fit together. Like sliding two pieces of a puzzle together.
I might’ve felt bad about enjoying the closeness so much when I’d really meant just to offer a sympathetic shoulder. But it was hard to feel guilty about taking a little pleasure in the embrace with a distinct bulge pressing against your hip.
Oh, God.
It was far too easy to remember how that particular bulge fit me. Under my dress, my thighs quivered with a breathtaking need to be reminded even more. I could hear the rapid beat of Marc’s heart against my ear, and that didn’t help things either. The beat was a rhythmic thrum.
“Aysia.”
He pulled back a little as he said it, and I tipped my head up to look at him. His eyes were glassy with emotion. He slid one hand free and cupped my cheek in his rough palm.
“I want to kiss you,” he said. “But I won’t, if you ask me not to.”
“I want you to.”
“Thank God.”
He dipped his lips to mine. It was a soft touch. At first. But it quickly deepened, his lips devouring mine as I surrendered to the attention. He kissed and nibbled. He tugged and teased. And even though there was no mistaking the passion in the way his tongue danced through my mouth, there was something more in the kiss. Something deeper. A need for comfort. An outpouring of feeling. It almost wasn’t fair that he could put so much into one kiss. But it lit me up.
My arms came up from his waist to land on his shoulders, and my hands dug into the short, thick hair at the back of his neck. I kissed him as hard he kissed me. I tugged his lips with my teeth and explored the contours of his mouth with my tongue. I drank in everything he offered, not breaking contact until it became necessary to gasp in a breath. Even then, I immediately went back for more. Or I would have, if Marc hadn’t eased his hold on me and pulled away.
“I want to talk about Carl,” he said.
“Um. Okay.” I flushed; the other man was the last thing I felt like discussing.
But Marc seemed determined. He pulled himself free and ran a hand over his hair.
“I’m not going to hire Kitty Ulrich,” he told me. “But I can’t seem to find a way to fire that asshole.”
“You want to fire him?”
“Of course I do.”
“Because of me?”
His brown eyes flashed. “Because he’s a complete douche with no morals.”
I shook my head, desire taking a backseat to surprise at his vehemence. “I’m aware of his finer qualities. Better than you are, I’m sure. He’s done some despicable things to me that I’d rather not even acknowledge.”
He dropped back into pacing mode, this time with an edge. “And I can’t stand that fact. It’s a ridiculous fucking feeling, I know. But every time I look at him, I think about it.”
“I can’t change the fact that I dated him,” I said slowly.
Marc paused in his efforts to wear a hole in the floor. “I know. I acknowledged that it was a ridiculous fucking feeling, didn’t I?”
“What do you want me to say?”
He started pacing again, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and the floor, then muttered something about the wrong moment before he stopped abruptly and dropped into the leather chair.
“I want you to stop treating me the way you treat him,” he said roughly.
“What?”
“At the office. You’re too damned polite to both of us.”
I stared at him for a long second. Then a laugh burst from my lips. I covered my mouth, trying to stop it, but I couldn’t.
“You think it’s funny?” Marc sounded incredulous rather than mad.
I stifled another laugh. “No. It’s not funny. But…”
“But what?”
“Liv told me to treat you like Carl. She said it would make things easier if I approached this thing between us the same way I approached the thing between him and me. I didn’t realize I was succeeding.”
“That girl really hates me.”
“Maybe she hates you a little. But only because she loves me.”
“Thanks, Liv,” he muttered.
“I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do,” I admitted. “When I walked in and saw you there in that boardroom Monday it was…I don’t know what it was. Like a bit of my world imploding? I kept telling myself it was just a weekend. That had I hadn’t even known your last name. But I honestly couldn’t deal with it. I told Liv, and she gave me the suggestion. Just to help me breathe.”
“I’ll buy you a respirator. But please, Aysia. I’d rather you treat me like shit or pretend that you don’t know me at all than have you treat me the same way you treat him.”
I met his sad gaze. “You’re nothing alike. It’s not even a comparison.”
“Yet you did make an exception for him. You broke the rules.”
I sighed, took his vacated spot on the windowsill, and told him something only Liv knew. “Carl caught me at a vulnerable moment. My dad—who I hadn’t seen in over a decade—died a few months ago. The news hit me way harder than I expected. Harder than I thought it should, I guess. By the time I came to my senses and realized Carl was the exact opposite of what I needed, it was too late to take back my own stupidity.”
“You’re far from stupid.”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to stroke my ego. Sneaking around with Carl was stupid. He was such an asshole that he couldn’t even be faithful for the short month we were together. And when I called him on it, he was convinced it was my fault. I think he still doesn’t understand why I broke it off.”
“Fucker.”
“Yeah.”
Without warning, Marc swept to his feet. He closed the distance between us, dragged me up, and pushed me to the wall, where he kissed me again. Long and hard. Like he had something to prove.
When he finally pulled back, he growled against my mouth. “I’m not Carl.”
“I know.”
“So sneak around with me.”
“Marc…”
“Or don’t sneak around with me. Tell everyone and let them think what they want. I’ll make sure human resources doesn’t fire you. I know a girl, and I think I can pull some strings.”
“I can’t.”
“Pull strings?”
“Break the rules.”
“Isn’t that why they made them?”
He took my bottom lip between his teeth and pulled while at the same time slamming his hand to my knee, then sliding his palm up under my dress to my thigh. I gasped at the contact, and moaned when his fingers wasted no time making their way to my underwear, which he promptly pulled aside so he could stroke me lightly.
“This is breaking the rules,” he said.
“Yes.” That was a moan, too.
“Say you’ll break the rules for me. Don’t make me beg, Aysia.”
One finger slid over my clit, and I thrust against it, and I was pretty sure that I was a lot closer to begging than he was. I could barely form a coherent thought. It took everything I had just to form a sentence.
“I can’t break them, Marc,” I said.
His finger moved faster. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No!”
“But you won’t say yes.”
“I just…”
He hand added a small circle and a bit more pressure.
“Marc,” I gasped.
“You
know I love it when you say my name,” he replied.
He shifted, just a little, and his finger slipped inside and his thumb took its place. His body rocked into me, too, driving me higher. Closer.
“Please,” I whimpered.
“Please??”
“Make me come.”
“All right, honey.”
He stopped talking then, and focused on touching me. Just right. Just hard enough. My head tipped back and his mouth fell to my throat. And his lips on my exposed skin was the scale tipper. My hands pressed to the wall behind me, pushing my hips forward, driving his finger into me farther. With a shuddering cry, I came undone against his hand. When the last waves of satisfaction had released, he slipped free and framed my shoulders with his arms.
“The weekend,” he said.
“What?”
“Give me the weekend,” he said. “Just give from now until Sunday. Break the rules for three days.”
He leaned back, his expression boyishly hopefully. Sweet and sexy at the same time. I didn’t stand a chance in hell of saying no.
“Okay,” I whispered, my eyes dropping down guiltily at the vulnerability created by my inescapable acquiescence.
Immediately, his fingers came to my chin and lifted it up so I couldn’t look away.
“Not because you have to,” he said. “Because you want to.”
The look in eyes had changed from hopeful to concerned. I made myself study that look, memorizing it. He cared what I wanted. That mattered to me.
“Let’s break the rules,” I said firmly. “Just for the weekend.”
Relief replaced worry. Then a devious glint took over. And Marc scooped me up from the ground and carried me straight to his bedroom, where he held me pleasantly captive for a number of hours that I was too preoccupied to count.
Chapter 9
Marc
Friday morning came far too quickly. Though as I dragged myself into consciousness, I couldn’t really complain. My arms were wrapped around a beautiful girl. Her soft scent filled my senses. Inch after inch of her silky skin pressed against mine. And one of her hands was moving slowly between my legs on my already hard cock.
My eyes flew open as I realized the last part wasn’t just a bit of residual dream. Aysia’s too-blue gaze was fixed on my face, a satisfied little smile playing on her lips.
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