Dirty Flirting [Part One]_A Forbidden Romance_Gently Broken Series

by Ava Alise

  The artist did a spectacular job, some areas almost look 3D. There is a distinctive line that travels from the starting place above his elbow all the way up his arm, across his collarbone, and beneath his shirt collar. It’s the only dark ink separating the rest of the colorful tattoos covering his upper arm and shoulder. At first glance, it looks to be acting only as the space between the puzzle pieces of his tattoo designs, but upon closer inspection, there's obvious writing beneath. My finger traces the line, and I travel slowly up his arm.

  “They’re names,” I say to no one in particular.

  “Yes.”

  I continue to trace the line with my finger until I reach the collar of his shirt. When I look into his eyes, heaviness has replaced the light, and my eyebrows crease at the sudden change.

  “Who are they?” I ask.

  He drops his eyes for a second and then pulls his shirt over his head. My blood boils when I see his bare skin; the tattoo extends across his chest stopping right below his ribs. Pivoting, he places my finger back at the start of the line, beginning on his left bicep. He watches our hands as he slides my finger over the pathway while reciting each of the names.

  “Lance Corporal Jennings, Private First-Class Washington, Corporal Kendell…” He continues, reciting nine names total, as our hands travel over his collarbone then down his chest, stopping right over his heart.

  “Sergeant Adams,” he says, and my eyes immediately move to his. Holding my gaze, he answers my next question without me officially asking.

  “My brother. He died in war three years ago, and these are the men who died beside him."

  I swallow hard as I fight the sadness gripping at my chest.

  “I’m sorry, Drexel,” I say.

  He nods.

  “Your ink is really amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  I probably should have pulled my hand away the second he ended at his brother’s name, but I didn’t, and now my hand dances over the many other tattoos he has across his chest. He’s not watching my hands anymore, he’s watching me as I touch him. His skin is smooth, and I allow my fingers to glide over every groove in his muscles. My brain is screaming retreat, but damn, I really like touching him. I probably should have jumped off the barstool the moment he took his shirt off. His stare burns into me, but I don’t look up. I can already feel the heat rising in my core and I know if I look into those greens again, I’ll be as good as cooked. Slowly, I pull my hand to my side and only then do I look at him.

  The look in his eyes is heated and dark, but he looks away and pulls his shirt back over his head.

  "Do you have any tattoos?" he asks, clearing his throat.

  I nod and remove the large bracelet from my wrist, uncovering the orange and black butterfly underneath.

  I smile. “It's nothing compared to your tats, but I love butterflies."

  "It's nice," he says, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the ink.

  A shiver runs down my spine at his touch. It's been too long since I've been with a man who knew his way around my body. One who could make me weak. Go insane. I don't know if he can, but everything tells me, if given the chance, he will. I don't want to give him that chance. He doesn't want to take that chance. But it doesn't stop me. My hand roams across his chest again as I fall into his stare.

  Slowly, his fingers slide a light trail from my wrist to my elbow, leaving goose bumps in their wake. My mouth begins to water as I become hypnotized by his greens. "Remind me again why we don't fuck our coworkers?" he asks in a husky voice.

  "It's stupid... irresponsible," I say, taking an unconvincing tone. My fingers dance against his chest, and he leans closer.

  All of the butterflies have totally burst, turning into fire balls, igniting me from the inside out. He continues up my arm until he reaches my neck, brushing my blonde strands away, and my pulse soars.

  “Right. It’s dangerous." His voice comes out gravelly as his nose bumps mine. "Could be a total distraction.”

  “Yea. It could be bad,” I whisper against his lips.

  He leans down and lightly kisses a path from my collarbone to my neck. My eyes involuntarily close, and I moan as I tightly grab his arms to steady myself from melting all over him.

  My hand slides up his shoulders and lands in his hair as my fingers part through his strands.

  He continues up my jaw and to my mouth, pausing before his lips touch mine. My heart pounds so hard that it echoes through my ears. I'm burning, aching for more of him as every dirty thing he's ever said flashes through my head.

  "Kelsa," he breathes, and I break. My mouth crashes against his, and he wraps his arms around me.

  Our tongues dance, and my world explodes. His hands slide up my back and through my hair as I become completely consumed by lust. I love the way he kisses. No drool, no fumbling, just steaming hot perfection. They feel like an invitation... a preview to everything he can do and every way he can make me feel.

  He slides me off my barstool and onto his lap. My legs wrap around his waist and the stool spins at the added weight, positioning his back against the counter. He breaks our kiss and my head falls back as he sucks and nibbles on my neck, causing me to moan loudly, losing control of my breathing. Even though the red lights are warning me to stop, the green one is searing heat, and with every moan and kiss, the red light dims. My lips find his, and he leans back against the counter as my tongue slides into his mouth. Hands palm my ass and I pull my legs around him tighter, grinding against his cock. It feels amazing, so I do it again.

  “Kels,” he groans as he presses against me. He says my name, and the red lights start to flash again.

  Fuck. This needs to stop. This could be so bad, but it feels…

  The room temperature continues to rise as our hearts pound with the steady rise and fall of our chests. I can't stop my hands as they touch him everywhere. His hand slides up my body until he finds a hard nipple, teasing it between his fingers. I suck on his bottom lip and moan as my body aches for more. He stands, carrying me until my back hits the wall.

  “I’m trying so fucking hard to walk away," he says, placing his forehead against mine and pulling in steady breaths. "Tell me to stop. If not, I swear I'll fuck you right here.”

  I nod when I want to shake my head.

  “Yeah,” I say through heavy breaths. "You're right, we should stop."

  He stills for a moment, closing his eyes, and with a tight jaw he backs away.

  I bite my lip and continue to nod. Happy, but at the same time, so pissed that he was able to exercise the control that I had lost.

  We regard each other as we attempt to gain control of our breathing. My eyes fall down his body. If the bulge is any indication, he's huge and he catches me admiring him. He looks down at himself and then meets my eye.

  "Nice," I breathe.

  He smirks. "Fuck," he says. "I better go now before I fuck around and show you just how nice."

  I chuckle..

  “Goodnight, Kels.”

  “Goodnight, Drex.”

  On wobbly legs, I follow him into the living room. He smirks and disappears through the door, closing it behind him. I fall heavily into the couch, wishing like hell I had packed Purple Paul to rescue me from this ache.

  He did the right thing by walking away. I head into the bathroom to shower and change into my PJs.

  Focus, Kels, you came here for one reason only.

  Land the job and then focus on my career. I shouldn’t be worried about the guy across the hall. Or how he looks naked, for that matter. We have a big day tomorrow. I have to focus.

  After I get cuddled in bed, I grab my phone from the nightstand and place it on the charging dock. As I do, I notice a missed text from Drexel.

  Drex: I almost wish I didn't walk away.

  Me: I know what you mean.

  I lie back, and run my fingers down my body until my breathing turns desperate, all the while imagining the things that could have happened if he didn't walk away.

>   The minute I wake the next morning, my mind goes immediately to Drex, and my stomach drops at the thought of seeing him.

  I can't believe I kissed him.

  I can't believe how good it felt.

  It was better than I expected, and his body was...

  Shit.

  No, I've got to get my head in the game. This is why the rules are in place. I'm having the biggest week in my career, and the only thing I can think about is being pressed against the guy across the hall.

  Sliding out of bed, I make my way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. I pass the notes and folders Drex and I left out last night, and the strewn pillows on the floor I forgot to pick up. Pulling up a stool, I take a seat at the counter. The moment my eyes fall on the stool next to me, my body turns hot as the tantalizing memory crawls through my conscious. Straddling his lap, the sounds he made, the way he made me moan... damn, being sensible has its drawbacks sometimes.

  I sip my coffee and carry it to the balcony. The warm liquid soothes me as I watch the sea of waves crash against the sand. The air is crisp, and the sun reflects beautiful colors across the sky as it rises. By the time I'm finished my coffee, I'm ready for my day. I can do this. Best foot forward, I'll show Jackson that EDG has made the right choice considering me for the job.

  I'm showered and dressed by 9:00 a.m. and ready for breakfast. My initial plan was to call room service and enjoy it on the balcony, but I really want to get out of this room. Every time I come within ten feet of that counter, the crazed hormones drive my mind where it shouldn't be.

  People... I need lots of people. Talking people. Distracting people.

  There is really no need to look over anymore notes today anyway, so I slide into my shoes and head to the restaurant downstairs.

  The mood of the lobby is a complete contradiction from the calm of the upstairs. People are busying themselves with checking in and out of the hotel. Two bell boys, escorting a family, slides into the elevator I step out of, and the door closes behind them. I make my way to the hotel restaurant and grab a seat at the counter. The restaurant is as elegant as the rest of the hotel, with fancy lighting fixtures and perfectly waxed marble floors. I grab the menu and begin to look it over.

  "Good morning, Miss, how can I help you?" a man asks from the other side of the counter.

  "Good morning." I smile. "I'll take an oatmeal, add fruit and an egg, scrambled."

  After breakfast, I'm feeling pretty confident that my head is clear of that kiss and the distracting thought of him. I head up to Jackson's penthouse early. Right before the elevator slows, I notice a missed text from Jackson from last night, saying to meet him at eleven.

  Shit, I'm really early.

  The doors open and a dark haired woman in a gray suit steps on at Jackson's penthouse floor as I'm stepping off. She looks very familiar, but I'm having a hard time placing her.

  She offers a shy smile, so I smile back, but the moment the door closes, I chuckle. The woman doesn't have the look of a woman who stopped by on business this morning. It looks more like she stopped by on business last night. She did a great job at straightening herself out, but you can tell her hair was done in a hurry, and her makeup isn't fresh.

  Looks like someone had a good night, and I'm not the only New Yorker with attacking hormones.

  "Kelsa, you're here a little early," Jackson says with a tight smile.

  I can't tell if it's because I'm too early, or if it's because I just caught his girl doing the walk of shame.

  "Yes. I'm sorry. I just noticed your text. I can come back," I say, reaching toward the call button.

  "No, it's no problem. I was just about to jump into the shower. Make yourself at home."

  "Alright." I smile, and watch as he disappears into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I wander around the penthouse, marveling at the detailed designs and sleek décor. There are two additional bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. His balcony has an infinity pool that begins inside the penthouse and wraps around to the outside, ending at a large hot tub. It's stunning, I can only imagine how beautiful it looks at night. I’d get lost out there, immersed in the peace of it all. It makes me miss Georgia in a way. I spent most of my childhood on the beach with my brothers and parents. A while goes by before I hear the distant ding of the elevator, I look down at my watch.

  10:40 a.m.

  I take a deep breath and go to meet Drexel in the sitting room. He steps off the elevator dressed ready for business, and it amazes me how well he can bounce between causal and business attire. It doesn't matter what he's wearing, he will...

  Ugh there I go.

  "Good Morning, Kelsa." He smiles.

  "Hi, Drex. Morning."

  We regard each other longer than normal before either of us speaks.

  I can do this.

  Drexel looks at me steely and swallows hard, then he sets his jaw and turns to walk into the sitting area.

  "Where's Jackson?" he asks.

  "He's getting ready." I join him on the couch, being sure to sit on the other side. The memories of last night flash again the moment I sit down, and even though we are a few feet apart, I feel too close. It's like there isn't enough space in the world right now that would be enough. Silence falls on the room. I cross my legs and focus on the large window looking down at the ocean. Desperately, I search for the happy place I found on the balcony as I look out at the waves and imagine the morning air cooling my heated skin. It works for a while, but when I glance over at Drexel, he’s looking at me dead on, and it sends me right back to boiling. With a playful but dark expression, his eyes slide over my legs, and until now, I don’t realize how much my skirt has ridden up when I crossed them.

  "You trying to tempt me again?" He smirks, raising a brow.

  I laugh and uncross my legs, pulling my skirt back over my knees.

  "So, last night," he says. "Though it was hot as fuck... I'm sorry for crossing the line."

  "Yeah... no. It wasn't just you. We both got a little carried away."

  "A little?" He smiles. "Any longer and I would have bent your sexy ass over that counter and taught you a new way to say my name."

  I smile as everything I was going to say dies on my tongue. He meant it to be corny and playful, of course, but damnit, every word he just said causes my heart to pound just a bit harder. I can't find the words to throw back at him because I'm still recovering from his. Slowly, his smile disappears as he looks from my eyes to my lips. My mouth tingles with the need to kiss him.

  I don’t though; I force myself to stay planted in my seat, fighting every muscle in my body that’s pushing me to jump him. He breaks the eye contact first, turning from me and closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head slightly, as if scolding himself. I take a head clearing breath as I look up at the ceiling, trying to gain control of my thoughts.

  Work not play. Damn you, Purple Paul...

  "You two praying?"

  I snap my head down from the ceiling, and Drexel's eyes fly open as we stare at Jackson, who has appeared in front of us.

  "No," I say.

  "Yes," Drexel says and glances at me.

  This makes me bite back a smile.

  "Oh...kay," Jackson says, looking at us curiously.

  Jackson goes over what we should expect once we arrive, and not long after we head out for Jaylou's. A car meets us at the exit of the hotel, and I take the front passenger seat. Jackson gives the driver the address to Jaylou's and then begins talking shop.

  "Jaylou's team are being hesitant about signing on with Short's because they have multiple offers for their designs. Our job will be to convince them that signing on with Short is the way to go. If we can convince them of this, we will set a time to meet later this week to, hopefully, prepare contract negotiations."

  "Okay... easy enough," Drexel says.

  "Let's hope so." Jackson nods. "Additionally, I'll be presenting the advertising ideas I gave you in the packet. Clients need to buy into the v
ision beforehand; if you have anything to add, feel free to speak up."

  A few minutes later, we pull on to a long street lined with various clothing stores and restaurants. People carrying bags stamped with designer logos and lace handles scurry about. The car stops at a storefront with a large pink and green sign which reads "Jaylou's Designs" above a large display window. Excitement bubbles in my chest as we enter the storefront for more reasons than one. First off, duh handbags; secondly, I love a challenge. We are greeted by a tall African American woman wearing a beautiful red dress and heels I'd died for.

  "Hi, I'm Jayelle, and welcome to Jaylou's." She smiles.

  "Jayelle." Jackson smiles and shakes her hand. "I'm Jackson, I believe we spoke yesterday."

  "Oh, yes. It's great to finally meet you."

  "These are my assistants, Drexel Adams and Kelsa Preston."

  We all exchange greetings, and she takes us on a small tour of the store. I was so wrong, the bags are what’s to die for. Leather bags of all shapes and sizes line the walls, all unique and handmade with golden buckles, chains, and in various colors. My eyes are alight with awe as I manage to hold in my squeals and squeaks. The designs are amazing, the price tag.... way out of my budget, but still amazing.

  After the tour, we enter an office space and gather around a large table. Inside of the office is Louise Washington, Jayelle's business partner and co-owner of Jaylou's Designs. We are in the meeting for over an hour with the pair. They have many questions about Short and his company, just as anticipated. Drexel, Jackson, and I take time answering all of their questions and explaining why Short's would be a terrific business move.

  "Franklin Short has been a top name in the fashion and accessories industry for quite some time. Everything he has touched over the last five years has exploded in popularity worldwide," I say.

  Drexel gives a few examples of well-known products and their sales outcomes after partnering with Short. I follow up with the many ways Short's and Accessories has changed the game for fashion by personalizing popular fashion designs and the many ways they differ from competitors. Jackson watches us with a prideful gaze then ends the presentation with different advertising markups.