by June Gray
“Don’t . . . please.”
“You really think I would jeopardize my career for some asshole who thought he could steal my wife?” he asked with a sneer.
“Let’s go home,” I said in a calm voice, hoping it would influence his mood. “We’ll talk about it there.”
“Fine,” he said and stomped off toward the parking lot. He made sure I was in my car first before slinging a long leg over his bike and riding off.
I thought the drive would help cool Henry’s head, but when I walked in the house, he was standing in the living room with his hands folded across his chest, looking so damn intimidating and sexy all at once.
“You need to quit that job,” he said, immediately shutting down the sexy vibes.
I mimicked his stance and shook my head. “Hell no.”
“You can’t keep working for that dick.”
“I can’t just quit my job because of a misunderstanding,” I said, trying to reason with him. “This job is important to me. It’s what I’ve been working for my entire life. I can’t quit. Not this job.”
“Find another one like it.”
“There are no other jobs like it. Shake is one of the most promising firms out there, and I’m helping it grow. I’ve never been part of a company in this way before, like I’m instrumental in its success.”
“But Conor—”
“It’s not about Conor,” I said, trying to temper my voice.
“It’s got everything to do with him.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Why the fuck would you let him think he had any right to kiss you?” he suddenly shouted. The volume of his voice was like a thunderclap, booming around the room, and all I could do was stand there reeling from its intensity. He had never yelled at me like that before.
“I don’t . . . I didn’t . . .” I said, fighting the urge to cower.
“Was it because you wanted to see me jealous?” he asked, nostrils flaring. “Well, congratulations, Elsie, you’ve got it. I’m fucking jealous. I’m ready to murder the next guy who touches you.”
“I thought you said you could get over it.”
“Well I was wrong!” He took several deep breaths. “I thought I was handling it. But seeing him tonight, knowing that you’re with him every single day . . .”
I stepped toward him and wrapped my arms around his waist, trying to reassure him with my touch as well as my words. “It’s not going to happen ever again,” I said. “I can guarantee it.”
“Damn right it’s not,” Henry said, wrenching away from my grasp and stalking to the garage door.
I was right at his heels, feeling the panic rising up in my throat. “Where the hell are you going?”
“To make sure Conor knows your last name is Logan,” Henry said and slammed the door. A few seconds later, the Harley roared to life.
5
I didn’t follow Henry. God knows I wanted to, but I knew deep down that my presence there would only add more fuel to the fire. I’d be forced to defend Conor, which would further enrage Henry, and fists would probably fly. Henry could lose his job, get sued by Conor, go to jail, or all three. And it would all be my fault.
I slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor, holding my head in my hands. I didn’t know how I had gotten myself in this situation again. Was it my fault? Had I somehow given out vibes to men that would make them believe I was interested?
Or did it go deeper than that? Did I somehow get some sick pleasure out of making Henry jealous? Was that really the kind of person I was? Perhaps it had all started back in high school, at that dance when Henry had ripped my handsy date off me. It was possible that underneath the anger and the hurt, I’d somehow derived some satisfaction from the fact that Henry had obviously been so jealous he was willing to go to desperate lengths to keep other men away.
But if that was true, then what kind of a person did that make me?
I might have sat on that floor for hours, knotting my brain in circles, had I not suddenly been overcome with nausea. I scrambled to my feet and made it into the hallway restroom a second before I started throwing up my dinner.
—
I woke up alone the next morning, though the indentation on Henry’s pillow was proof that he’d at least slept there. I got up, washed my face, and slipped into my robe before going in search of my husband.
I finally found him in the basement, wearing only a pair of shorts and shoes, beating the hell out of a heavy bag with his wrapped hands. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, unnoticed, and watched him quietly as he prowled around the bag before delivering punishing combos, punching the bag twice then following up with elbow hits. Every muscle in his body flexed, his thick biceps curling a moment before striking out with enough force to send the bag swaying.
I should have been frightened by his barely contained fury, but something about the show of power from this virile male spoke to a deeper part of me, to the natural instinct of a woman to pick the strongest male of the species to mate with.
He stopped, his wide shoulders rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. He was shiny all over from the workout, his muscles bulging from the exertion. He looked sweaty and smelly, but I’d be damned if I didn’t want him to take me right in that moment.
I walked over and touched his damp back. He spun around, his muscles coiled. “Els,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides.
“Tell me what happened,” I said softly, fighting against the desire.
He shook his head. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything to him,” he said, clenching his hands into fists. “I wanted to beat the shit out of him. I wanted to hurt him.”
“But you didn’t.” I grabbed his wrist and brought it up, unwrapping his hand and doing the same for the other.
“No. We talked. He apologized, said it was a misunderstanding and wouldn’t happen again. It was so fucking civilized.”
I brought his reddened knuckles to my lips and kissed each one individually, showing him my gratitude. “Thank you.”
He reached out and touched a finger to my lips. “I said I could get over it, but I’m not so sure it’s that easy.” He took hold of my hair and cocked my head to the side, exposing my neck. “Was it here?” he asked, touching the very spot where Conor had almost kissed me.
I nodded, my heart thudding wildly from the unpredictability of his actions.
He bent down and pressed his lips to my neck. A moment later, I felt a pull, a suctioning on my skin. When he was done, he straightened, a smug smile on his face. “Now he’ll know whose lips actually belong on your skin,” he said, touching the warm spot on my neck.
I’d never had a hickey before. To be marked in such a way was insulting, yes, but it was also indescribably sexy. “Do it again,” I whispered, pulling the robe away from my chest. I pointed to my breast, to a spot right above the hardened nipple. “Right here.”
He wrapped his arms around my back and bowed down, and his mouth came down upon my chest, right above my left breast. He lifted me off my feet as he sucked on my skin, as if trying to place a kiss directly onto my pounding heart. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, rubbing the back of his head as I moaned.
His grip tightened as his mouth descended upon mine, as he devoured me, fucking my mouth with his tongue. I kissed him back, pouring into it every apology, every bit of misplaced anger, hoping to alter it with our desire.
Henry carried me to the weight bench and sat down, setting me on his lap. He held my face in his hands, his gaze tender on my face. “Is it me you really want, Elsie?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said, reaching into his shorts and stroking him to life. Then I set out to reassure him by sinking slowly onto his hard length, watching his face contort with pleasure. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”
He kissed my neck as his hands roamed under my
robe, touching me all over while I bounced on his lap.
“Nobody else has even come close to you,” I said, running my fingers through his hair and nipping along the shell of his ear. “It’s only ever been you, Henry.”
He took a deep breath and nodded, but something felt off, like our circuits had shorted and we were without power. But I was determined to make this work, to show Henry just how well we fit together, so I bobbed faster.
He gripped me by the hips and held me down. Breathing hard, he set his forehead against my chest and released a heavy sigh.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, tilting his head up to face me.
His eyes were cloudy pools of uncertainty. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I pulled away and got on my feet. In all our times together, Henry had never denied me. “I’m sorry about what happened, Henry. I don’t know what else I can say to make it all better.”
He tucked himself back in and asked, “Tell me this: Did you want to kiss him back?”
God I wanted to lie. It would have been more merciful to say no, but I couldn’t lie. Not to him. “A tiny part of me wanted to, just out of curiosity,” I said in a small voice.
Henry rose to his feet, his face tense. “Do you want to fuck him too?”
“No, of course not!” I reached up and grabbed the sides of his face. He tried to brush me off, but I tried again and again until I finally had him in my hands. “Damn it, would you just look at me, you infuriating man!”
“What, Elsie? What do you want?” he gritted through his teeth.
“I want you to stop for one moment and look at me,” I said gently.
His eyes burned into mine. “Yeah, I’m looking.”
“Now tell me if you really, honestly think I’d ever want to be with anyone else but you.”
His shoulders sagged as his righteous anger deflated.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Henry,” I said, willing him to believe me. “If you don’t know that by now, then I don’t know if you ever will.”
—
I wore a mock turtleneck to work the following Monday, concealing the purplish mark on my neck. Hell, I wasn’t Henry’s personal billboard.
I was tense as I walked to my desk that morning, still unsure of what had really taken place between Conor and Henry. I breathed a sigh of relief when I turned the corner and found Conor’s office empty. I sat at my desk, feeling like I’d just dodged a minor bullet, and booted up my Mac, ready to lose myself in work for a few hours.
But of course, my luck ran out almost immediately when my computer dinged, signaling a new interoffice message.
Would you come to my office, please? said the note from Conor.
I waited a good minute, gathering my nerves, before standing up, straightening my skirt, and finally walking down the aisle between cubicles. Conor’s glass door was open; I walked right in and closed the door behind me.
He finished whatever it was he was typing on his laptop before giving me his attention. He clasped his hands in front of him and let out a long sigh. “So,” he began, drawing out the word. “I suppose we have some things to talk about.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “I guess we do.”
He stood up and walked around the desk. “Walk with me,” he said and led the way out of the office.
“Where are we going?” I asked, following him out. “Why can’t we talk about this in your office?” Where we’re in plain sight?
He stopped in front of another room with a glass front wall, though this one was empty save for a glass desk and a brown leather chair. He unlocked the door and held it open for me, the smile on his face wide but guarded. “Welcome to your new office.”
I walked into the middle of the room and immediately began mentally decorating it. I caught myself before I started painting the side walls. “Conor, this isn’t some form of apology, is it? Because if this has anything to do with Henry I won’t take it.”
He shook his head. “I’d already planned on giving you this office when I assigned you the Lombart pitch. I gave you the account to prove yourself, and you have.” He held out his hands. “And here we are, in your very own office.”
I stared at him, trying to decide on the right move. In a perfect world, I would have done what Henry asked and quit this job. But this isn’t a perfect world, and rights and wrongs aren’t so independent of each other. Despite what happened and the uncertainty it would create, I believed that we could be adults about this and move on. Conor and I could continue to work together without our history mucking it up, I was sure of it.
Conor closed the door casually then turned back to me. “I do, however, owe you an apology,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been harboring feelings for a married woman. I was raised Catholic; I’m well versed in the Ten Commandments. I should have known better.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you any indication that I was interested.”
He looked down at his hands. “Your husband . . . Is he okay with this?”
“You tell me.”
He snickered. “Honestly, I almost crapped my pants when he came back into the restaurant, looking like a roid-raging bull.” He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I was sure he was going to pound my face in. But we sat down at the bar and talked it over.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “How did you manage to talk him down? He was out for blood when he left the house.”
He smiled, that same cocky smile he was known for. “I can talk my way in and out of any situation. That’s my God-given talent.” He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and looked around the room. “So, what color are you planning on painting the walls?”
6
I came home that Friday afternoon worn and weary. The week had been long; not only did I have my usual work to wade through, I also painted and moved into my new office. You just never realize how much crap you accumulate at work until you have to move it all into another space. But it was done, and it was surprising how strange it felt to be in a place all my own. No longer could I simply stand and have a conversation with my neighbors. Now I had to leave the confines of my office. I wasn’t so sure I liked it, but it was, nevertheless, a step up in my career.
Still, it was tiring, this climb up the corporate ladder.
“Hey,” Henry greeted me from the top of the stairs. He came down and gave me a quick peck on the lips then touched my stomach. “How are you feeling?”
I dropped my purse with a dramatic sigh. “Exhausted,” I said. “I get so sleepy around two. I’m seriously contemplating putting a couch in my office so I can take naps in the afternoon. In fact, I could use a nap right now.”
Henry’s expression became serious. “Elsie, there’s something I need to tell you.”
I steeled myself, ready for whatever dire news Henry had today. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was starting to get better at this LEO spouse thing. “Okay, hit me with it.”
He burst out laughing. “You should see your face. You look so grim.”
I put my hands on my hips, not in the mood for pranks. “You have five seconds to tell me before I kick you in the nuts,” I said, only half joking.
He stepped back with a grin, covering his family jewels with one hand. “Okay, okay. I just wanted to tell you that I have the weekend off,” he said, laughing. “And I am taking you somewhere far away.”
“Where?” I asked, trying to muster an ounce of excitement but not altogether succeeding. Just the thought of packing almost made me want to turn him down.
He grinned, once again proving he could read my mind. “You don’t have to do anything. You just have to get your sexy butt into the car and let me do the rest.”
“But I’ll have to pack.”
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, at my duffel bag at the bottom of the stairs. “Done.”
&
nbsp; I raised an eyebrow. “You packed for me?” I could only imagine what manner of clothing he’d packed, if he packed anything other than lingerie at all. “Toiletries?”
“Done.”
My adventurous streak kicked in then as a frisson of excitement wound through me. “Okay, I’m in. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said with a smug smile and ushered me toward the door to the garage.
In the car, I gazed at him as he backed down the driveway, still unable to believe that we were actually going to have some time alone together. A part of me didn’t think it was possible, sure that he’d get called in at the last minute.
But he didn’t get a call, and when I woke a few hours later, it was already dark. I squinted without my glasses, making out a mountain on one side of the road and a lake on the other. “Are we nearly there? I really have to pee.”
Henry pointed to a spot across the lake. “Our destination is on the other side.”
“And where is that exactly?”
“Grand Lake,” he said, looking over at me. “I rented a cabin for the weekend. Just like we planned. It’s a little late, but a promise is a promise.”
I reached across the gearshift and squeezed his thigh.
“I want this weekend to be just about us. Nobody and nothing else matters from this moment until we leave on Sunday. Deal?”
I wasn’t sure if it was possible to leave everything behind but I was willing to try. “Deal.”
We parked right by the lake, beside a tiny log cabin.
“It doesn’t look like much out here,” he said as he carried our bags from the car. He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights, revealing the cabin’s open-plan interior. It was one large room, the kitchen, living room, and bedroom all in one place. The walls were horizontal lines of wood and concrete, and against one was a large, rough-hewn stone fireplace, in front of which sat a large brown leather sofa on an Afghan rug. In the corner was the tiny kitchen, and on the other side of the room was a queen-sized bed hidden by a white, gauzy canopy that hung from the ceiling. To the right was a door, presumably the bathroom. And on the wall across from the entrance was another door.