“Instead, I’m in a studio apartment in Astoria,” she continues. “My dishes rattle every time the train goes by. I have a master’s degree from a prestigious university, but most days I’m writing puff pieces like ‘Ten Signs He’s Just Not Into You’ and ‘Is Your Smoky Eye Setting Off the Right Alarms?’”
Dishwasher forgotten, I step in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders, offering an encouraging smile. “I have no idea what a smoky eye is, but I do know that whatever you’re working on, you put your all into it. That’s what counts.”
“It’s not serious work, though. The S and H story is the first time in my professional life I’m working on something that matters. Something that can help people.”
“It will help people. It’s already helping.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” she says. “The story, the work… I’m not even close to finished, and I already believe it’s the most important thing I’ve ever done.”
“That’s a good thing, no?”
“Maybe it would be, if I were doing it as myself.” She blinks and turns away, but not before I catch the tears glistening on her cheeks. “All those smart, fearless things you think I can do? I can’t seem to do them without a costume and a mask. Without pretending I’m someone else. You think I’m this badass writer who goes after what she wants, but most of the time…I’m just scared.”
My heart cracks right in half. “What are you afraid of?”
“Not mattering. Wasting the time I’ve been given. Looking back in twenty years and wishing I’d done everything differently.”
She looks so vulnerable—the fear etched in her eyes, the downward turn of her mouth, the furrow between her brows—some primal instinct claws its way out of my chest, and all I can think about now is how badly I want to protect her. How much I want to take away her pain.
How desperately I need her to see herself the way I see her.
I cup her face in my hands, brushing away her tears with my thumbs. “This is only the beginning for you. You’re fierce and talented and smart as hell—with or without the costume. Personally, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind for a second in weeks.”
“That’s only because I’ve infiltrated your workplace, passed out in front of your office, and—”
“No. It’s because you inspire me. Because you’re an amazing person.” I hesitate a beat, but I can’t hold back the rest of the words desperate to make their way out. “And because, ever since we kissed, all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss you again.”
Her breath hitches. “You do?”
“I was so zoned out today, Rictor told me go home and sleep it off.” I slide my thumb across her lower lip. “I’m still thinking about it, El. Right now.”
“Me, too,” she whispers, breath as soft as powder.
“Good to know.” I lean down, bringing my lips to hers, but it’s nothing like our first kiss.
This kiss is hungry, starving, almost savage.
Her hands twist into the front of my shirt, and I grab her around the waist and lift her onto the countertop, shifting between her thighs. She tastes like creamy coffee and cinnamon and raw, unfiltered Ellie, and if I drop dead right here, her legs wrapped around me, her hands on my chest, I’ll say it was a life well lived.
She moans against my lips, driving me wild.
I need to touch her, to feel her against my skin. All of her.
I slide my hands up her outer thighs, warm and silky-smooth inside the borrowed shorts, and she inches forward on the countertop until I’ve got a handful of her firm, perfect ass.
But it’s not enough. Not for either of us.
“More kissing, less clothes?” I ask, voice rough with need.
“Fewer,” she pants.
“What?”
“It’s fewer clothes, not less. Although you could say ‘less clothing.’”
“I’ve got an idea. Fewer clothes, fewer interruptions from the grammar police, and more time for coming our brains out.”
“Brilliant.” Ellie laughs, kissing me again. She slides off the counter, and we stumble into the bedroom together, stripping as we go, crashing onto the bed in a tangle of bare arms and legs, Ellie’s dark brown hair a stark contrast against my white duvet.
Finally freed from the confines of my dress pants, my rock-hard cock throbs against her damp thighs, but I’m not about to rush things with Ellie. I want to take her in, kiss by kiss, one sexy moment at a time.
I start with her collarbone, blazing a trail of kisses from one shoulder to the other, then down to her breasts. She gasps my name, her back arching as I suck one of her tight peaks into my mouth, but I don’t stop, sucking her harder, grazing her with my teeth, pushing her to the edge before turning my attention to the other breast, every movement driving her wild. I can’t get enough of her, my senses overloaded by the silk of her skin, her taste, the way she writhes beneath me.
I can’t wait another minute. I need to make her come.
I drag my mouth down her stomach, tracing a path between her thighs, slowly guiding her legs apart. My tongue swirls over her clit, and Ellie threads her hands into my hair.
“Oh, God,” she moans, nails digging into my scalp.
It’s all the invitation I need.
I grab her thighs and slide my tongue inside her. Her taste is intoxicating, flooding my mouth as she arches her back and rocks her hips against my kiss. I’m drunk on her—her scent, her toned thighs, the moans she makes as I fuck her with my mouth.
“Jack,” she breathes, fisting my hair, and I know she’s right on the edge.
That she trusts me to take her there.
It’s a gift, and I still can’t believe she’s offering it to me. Here. Now. In my bed.
I suck her clit between my lips, licking and teasing, stroking her until she shatters, screaming my name.
Slowly, reverently, I kiss her thighs, her belly, those beautiful breasts, working my way back to her mouth. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes dark with desire.
“More,” she whispers, arching against my cock. Her heat is a siren call I’m powerless to resist. I grab a condom from the nightstand drawer, rolling it on as I tease her entrance.
“Please,” she says. “I need you inside me.”
God, Ellie.
We’ve crossed so many lines tonight, but not this one. Not yet. Five more seconds, and there’s no going back.
“Are you sure?” I ask, every inch of me pulsing with need for this woman. “Absolutely sure?”
“I’m so sure.” Ellie curls her fingers around my shoulders, pulling me down for another kiss as I slide blissfully inside her, one inch at a time. And God maybe I really did die back there in my kitchen. That has to be it. Because right now my body is on fire, my brain has liquefied, and the last thing I know for sure is that nothing in this world has ever felt as much like home as this woman.
I try to make it last, to draw out every moment of bliss, but the second Ellie goes again, arching into my cock as her body locks tight around me, I’m gone.
I explode, my body humming with electricity, pleasure, and something deeper. Something I’m not sure I have a name for, but it makes the moments we spend curled up in each other’s arms some of the sweetest in memory.
* * *
“You sure you don’t want to stay?” I ask, walking her out as the car service rolls up in front of my building a few hours later. “We could grab some breakfast on the way to the office tomorrow, chat about those files. Sal’s diner makes a mean veggie omelet.”
“I’d love to, but all my Eric stuff is at home,” Ellie says. “I can’t get ready without it.”
“You can borrow one of my suits. We’ll roll up the cuffs, eighties style.”
Ellie laughs, but I can tell my powers of persuasion are failing. “If I stay, you’ll keep me up all night, and then I’ll fall asleep during the morning meeting and get in big trouble with my boss.”
“You’ve got me there,” I say. �
��Your boss is kind of a dick.”
She smiles. “Honestly, I’m more worried about Blair. That woman has a lady boner for policies and procedures, and as far as she’s concerned, Eric Webb is breaking every one of them.”
“Not every one. I happen to know for a fact S and H has a very liberal policy on consensual interoffice relationships.”
“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.” Ellie turns toward the waiting car, but I stop her, pulling her back into my arms. I lean close, breathing her in once more.
I could get used to this…
“Tomorrow’s gonna be brutal,” I confess.
“Only until everyone else leaves for the night.”
“Oh, really?” I nudge her nose with mine, loving this flirty, playful side of her. “What happens then?”
The look in her eyes sends a fresh bolt of desire straight to my dick.
“Why, then, Mr. Holt…” She nips my earlobe then whispers against my neck, giving me another instant hard-on. “We meet up in your office, lock the door, and take full advantage of my employer’s liberal interoffice relationship policy.”
Chapter 10
Ellie
The world is no longer what it was.
The universe has shifted on its axis, and neither I, nor it, will ever be the same.
I float to the N-train on the wings of last night’s multiple orgasms, and sit staring out the window with a goofy smile that not even the guy next to me—the one whose aggressive hacking portends contagious doom to all in his vicinity—can wipe away.
Before the Evening of Life-Altering Sexy Times, I was aware that my sex life had been average at best, a real snooze-fest at worst, but I had no idea just how behind the curve I’d been. I hadn’t realized my body was capable of the magical things Jack coaxed from it with his kiss, his touch, his gloriousness moving inside me until my every cell screamed Hallelujah.
I have been ruined for other men.
Absolutely ruined.
And yet, I still can’t.
Stop.
Smiling.
I may be ruined, but I’m going to enjoy my continued ruination for as long as it lasts.
Because it’s going to happen again. I may not have rearranged Jack’s reality the way he reordered mine, but I could tell he felt the combustible connection, too. It was mutual, and there’s no way either of us can walk away from that after a single taste, no matter how much we have to lose. An office romance is risky enough when one party isn’t the other party’s best friend’s little sister and an undercover reporter dressed in drag.
Jack and I are going to have to be careful. Very, very careful.
That in mind, I pause near the decorative pillars outside the S & H building, drawing caution close and wrapping it around my head and shoulders like my favorite hoodie, doing my best to conceal my soaring, giddy inner joy. I lock away my just-got-laid-by-the-King-of-Orgasms grin in the nick of time.
I’ve just patted my mustache down over my newly calm lips when Lulu bursts from the lobby doors, hustling down the street in my direction.
I lift a hand to say hello, but the tears glittering in her eyes make it clear this isn’t the time for morning pleasantries. “Lulu. Hey. Are you all right?”
She shakes her head, glancing over her shoulder before coming to join me where I’m tucked between two faux pillars carved into the edifice of the historic building. “Caleb’s school called. He threw up his morning snack again, and I have to go pick him up.”
“I’m sorry. I hope he feels better.”
“Oh, I’m sure he feels fine.” She lifts her eyes to the sky and swipes a finger beneath her lashes, catching a tear. “Caleb is a super picky eater. Anything new activates his gag reflex. I’ve tried to tell his teacher that, but she won’t stop pushing him to try new foods, and the school has a zero-tolerance policy for kids getting sick. This is the third time this month I’ve had to leave to get him, and my supervisor is not happy. Will doesn’t care that I get all my work done as soon as I get home. Every time it happens, he gets more frustrated. But my ex refuses to share pick-up duty on my days, and I don’t have anyone else.”
She pulls in a shaky breath, fresh tears rising in her eyes. “If I lose this job, I’ll be underwater in less than a month. It’s impossible to put anything into savings with three kids under the age of nine.”
I put a gentle hand on her shoulder, willing strength into her petite frame. “I’m so sorry, Lulu. I know some of the old guard can be ridiculous about working from home. Maybe that’s something the company should address from the top down? Is there a place where employees can anonymously suggest policy change?”
Lulu shakes her head. “The last woman who complained about the attitude toward mothers in the office was out in a month.”
My lips part to tell her that’s bullshit, and that I’m going to bring this up with Jack and Ian personally, but of course I can’t say that.
I’m Eric, not Ellie, and I need to stay undercover if I want to get the rest of my scoop.
And I need that scoop, not just to please my editor Denise, who is completely psyched about the new direction for my article, but to do right by the people working for my brother and Jack. And the best way to prove my good intentions is to keep my secret.
At least for now.
So I furrow my brow and nod sympathetically. “I get it. But if there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
Lulu pats my arm. “You’re sweet. You’re going to do great here, I know it. We’ve got a few rotten apples in the office, but the big bosses are great guys. Keep it up and you’re going to impress the hell out of them.”
It’s good to hear. And it makes me feel awful at the same time.
I hate lying to Lulu—to anyone, really.
By the time I make it to my desk, my giddy has vanished, replaced by concern about what I’m going to do when it comes time to show my cards. Eventually, anyone who reads my article will know that Ellie and Eric are one and the same.
What will Lulu and the rest of the people in the office I’m coming to respect and care about think of me then? Will they understand why I lied? Will they realize how much I truly want to be a catalyst for positive change?
Or will they hate me for being a nosy journalist?
All of these worries are still swirling in my head when a floral-sugar-citrus scent envelopes me from behind, signaling the arrival of my very nice-smelling nemesis.
“Hey there, workaholic. What time did you get out of here last night?” Blair asks, tapping a shiny nail on my desk.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear there was a spark of challenge in her eyes, and my brain swirls with a new batch of panicked questions. Did she see me outside Jack’s office last night, passed out like a helpless wimp? Did she hear him call me Ellie? Watch as he practically carried me out the door? Has she seen the “girlfriend got laid” glimmer in my eye and put two and two together to identify me as a reporter in drag who’s banging her fake boss?
Is my cover completely blown?
Taking a deep breath and attempting to remain calm, I say, “Not too late. Maybe around seven. You?”
“Oh, I was here until midnight going through those personnel files. Speaking of which…” Her talon tap tap taps again, right next to my laptop. “I took a peek at yours, and I noticed a few, shall we say, discrepancies.”
“Discrepancies?” My voice breaks, but I clear my throat and soldier on, ignoring the pounding of my heart. “Well, I’m happy to talk with Jack about that. I thought we had everything in order, but I’m sure I can help fill in any gaps.”
She purses her lips, pondering my words. My lies.
Filthy, filthy lies. God, I’m so bad at this!
“It’s nothing we need to bug Jack about.” She pats the lapel of my suit coat, batting her eyelashes again. “I just noticed that you don’t have your Series Seven and Sixty-three licenses yet. Is that correct?”
I consider lying but think better of it. “That’s correct. But
I’m planning to take the exams. As soon as possible.”
“I should hope so. You’ll need to put that to bed before you start trading on behalf of clients.”
I nod. “I think Jack’s idea was for me to get the lay of the land and then transition into a more active role with clients.”
“Of course.” She flashes a smile, and I try not to sigh in relief. But then she scrunches up her passive-aggressive nose. “It’s just that, given your level of experience with Hannaford Capital, I’m surprised you don’t already have your licenses. Was your last firm aware of that?”
“I had more of an analyst role there.” My gaze darts around the office in search of a savior, any savior. Barb from accounting? Hannah? Jack? Heck, I’d take Rictor riding my ass at this point, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Listen, Eric. I need you to make this a top priority. If finances are an issue for you,” she says, scanning my slightly off-kilter suit, “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t mind authorizing S and H to cover the fees.”
“Really? That’s generous.” Sensing my chance to turn the tables, I tap a fist on the desk. “And pertinent. I’ve been wondering how the selection process works for something like that.”
Blair narrows her eyes, but if she suspects I’m up to something, she doesn’t show it. “No process. Just a perk of the job.”
“For anyone who wants to take the exams?”
“Well, not just anyone. But for those who show promise and ambition? You bet.” She leans in close and lowers her voice, as if we’re sharing a secret. “Something tells me you won’t have any trouble getting it authorized.”
“But who determines which employees show promise?” I press. “What if someone on the support team is interested in furthering her career, but doesn’t have a chance to show her skills in action, and therefore can’t be evaluated for these kinds of perks?”
Before Blair can reply, Hannah appears on my other side.
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