by T Gephart
Damn it.
“I can see you overanalyzing it, Sarah,” he said suddenly, breaking through my internal debate. “It’s one drink, what’s the worst that can happen.”
I already knew what the worst thing was.
I didn’t do vulnerability and I didn’t want to make any more stupid mistakes. And the one time I’d let down my guard, and pretended that something I did wouldn’t have consequences, it came right back to bite me in the ass.
“Fine, one drink. But it will be non alcoholic.”
I could do this.
Correction, I was going to do this.
Because I refused to be a quitter.
Chapter 6
Kyle
I was an incredible negotiator.
My parents had told me when I was younger I’d been born with the skill. Able to convince them that my bedtime shouldn’t be set in stone, and that one last cookie wouldn’t spoil my appetite.
What could I say? I was often indulged and I wouldn’t make apologies for it. That, and I usually didn’t need to beg a woman to have a drink with me. So my ego didn’t want to let it go either. Especially not when I’d been thinking about her all day.
Not all of those thoughts were of her planted on her knees in front of me either. I’d given some serious consideration to the actual situation.
I had no more inclination to be partnered up in business than she did. It alluded that I wasn’t capable of getting the job done myself. Which, of course, like any man, pissed me off.
So I could see where she felt slighted.
But unlike her, I knew all of it was temporary. One of us would retain the position with the other going onto greener pastures. Unless one or both of us fucked up royally, no one was getting fired and no one was getting demoted. So there was no point getting emotional about it.
My wife—I admit I got a strange thrill out of calling her that, especially since it aggravated the hell out of her—didn’t share my clarity.
The time she’d spent concocting a bullshit story about having plans meant that everyone who was meeting us for drinks had already left.
Big mistake on her part.
Meant she didn’t have the buffer she seemed to desperately crave.
We walked to a bar called the Stanton Room, which was conveniently located across the street. It was the kind of place where the bartenders wore white shirts and you ordered single malt eighteen-year-old scotch. It was exactly the sort of place I pictured her in. Ordering something like a Gin and Tonic, or if she was feeling naughty, a dirty martini.
“Heeeeyyyy.” Kennedy was the first to greet us, her eyes wide with surprise when she saw the two of us walk in together. “I thought you had that thing?” The latter part of the conversation reserved for Sarah.
“I rescheduled.” Her smile not at all confident. “I thought it would be rude not to be here for Kyle’s welcome drinks.”
“Exactly, it wouldn’t be the same without my partner-in-crime.” My shoulder bumped playfully into hers. “I insisted.”
Those beautiful brown eyes of hers shot me a heated look so fast I almost laughed out loud, the tight smile against her face threatened to crack her cheeks.
Rather than torture her further—I figured it would be more interesting to not do what she expected—I instead headed to the bar where you guessed it, I ordered a single malt.
“So, Chicago, huh?” Peter, a guy I’d met earlier, took a mouthful of beer. “What brings you to New York?”
I’d gotten it a lot.
And my explanation differed depending if it was a man or a woman asking.
If a man asked—case in point—I’d give them the, “I wanted to play in the majors, and figured I’d have a better chance here.”
Just throw in a sports analogy and it usually got a grunt of approval. Which was exactly how Peter responded.
“Well, you definitely came to the right place.” He nodded enjoying the fake feeling of inflated superiority. “We’ve got a great team—the best. And we’re happy to have you on it. I’ve heard good things about you. Is it true you landed a seven-figure deal your first three months with Stockwell?”
And it was as easy as that.
I spent a decent thirty minutes fielding questions about myself, playing up how much better their city was, and they were all ready to be my new best friend.
In the meantime, Sarah sipped on a fucking Diet Coke or some other bullshit “non-alcoholic” drink and pretended like she wasn’t watching.
Actually it wasn’t even watching, it was more like studying. I could see the notes she was mentally taking as her promise of just-one-drink melted into another.
Yeah. I thought so.
I turned my attention to some of the women who’d joined us.
“Crystal, right?” I tipped my glass in her direction. “You set my password up for me.” I slowly brought the glass to my lips.
“Yeah, that was me.” Her cheeks pinked as she nodded slowly. “If you have any computer issues, I’m your girl.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that.” I gave her a slow smile.
And where sports analogies and bravado worked on men, being attentive is what was required for women. Lucky for me I was fluent in both.
Hmmm. And what do you know? The Diet Coke in Sarah’s hand looked like it had been switched out to a dirty martini. Cue my complete lack of surprise.
See, I was strategically maintaining my distance while keeping her in my line of sight. She didn’t feel threatened, but it bought into her curiosity about me. And I wasn’t stupid, just like I’d made some inquiries about her, I’d be disappointed if she hadn’t done the same for me.
It’s been a while since I played cat and mouse.
And wasn’t I enjoying the hell out of it.
* * *
Sarah
“Look at them.” I rolled my eyes at Crystal and Maggie, both of them fawning over Kyle like cats in heat. “Could they be any more obvious?”
I should have left.
Had my stupid soda, said my goodbyes and then forgone the rest of this silly spectacle. But nooooooooo, I stupidly talked myself into staying, convinced I could learn something from watching him in his natural habitat. And what I was learning was, I didn’t like it.
Heat traveled up my neck and my skin started to sweat. Then came the need for something a little stronger than soda, and I ordered a martini. Which was plain dumb considering the high alcohol content.
“Bah, they don’t get out a lot.” Kennedy waved off their behavior ignoring them as she ordered another appletini. “Enjoy your drink, and enjoy the fact that they want to go where you’ve already been.”
“Ewww, Kennedy.” The martini started to perform as prescribed as I relaxed a little. “I didn’t want to be thinking about that.”
He was so freaking smooth.
We’d positioned ourselves at a safe distance away. Close enough to still be social, but not so close we could hear the conversations. Which was a blessing and a curse as I watched the laughing and private jokes unfold in front of me.
“Gah, I hate it.” I shook my head and took another swallow from my glass. “Easing from one conversation to the next seamlessly. All of them,” I waved roughly to the crowd surrounding him. “Can I order you a drink, Kyle?” I mimicked their ridiculous display. “Can I kiss your ass, Kyle?”
“Ha!” Kennedy laughed. “The last one I’d totally volunteer for myself.”
“Actually, his ass is pretty spectacular,” I lamented, tipping my glass upside down and noticing the contents had been completely drained. “If you were going to kiss one, it’s a good one to kiss.”
“Kiss what?” Kyle smirked, conveniently maneuvering himself close enough to catch the tail end of the conversation. Actually, just as well it hadn’t been the start—that could have been awkward.
“Nothing you’d be interested in.” My hand playfully batted at his chest. Mmm firm. Exactly how I’d remembered it.
“Why don’t you let me be the j
udge of that?” He pulled the empty glass from my hand and set it down on a nearby table.
“Oh-uh,” Kennedy laughed. “Sounds to me like someone has his grumpy pants on.” Her features animated as she pulled a funny face.
“Kennedy.” He purred her name like a sleepy lion, forcing her head to snap up in attention.
“Why don’t you get us another round of drinks, my credit card is at the bar.”
“Sure, of course.” She nodded, falling victim to his magical charm. I was surprised she only agreed to go get the drinks and didn’t offer to do it naked. “I’ll be right back.”
And she was gone.
Damn it.
“Do women always do what you want?” I asked, feeling a little looser now the martini had worked its way into my bloodstream.
“Usually.” He didn’t hesitate, his cocky grin coming out to play.
“I won’t.” The words slipped out of my mouth defiantly. “I won’t do what you want.”
Ha! He might be able to flash his magic smile and get everyone else to fall over themselves but I wouldn’t fall victim. Nope, I would be resistant.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear, his hot breath against my skin. “That just makes me want you more.”
Dirty.
Playing dirty he was, with those sultry, sexy words coming out of those sultry, sexy lips.
I didn’t move, taking in a deep breath and sniffing the heady mix of scotch and cologne as I listed all the reasons why kissing him would be a bad idea.
1. I hate him, 2. Maybe hate is a really strong word, maybe . . .
“Kennedy is going to be back soon,” I warned, counting on her not being distracted at the bar.
“Good, she can watch.”
Those words, while innocent enough on their own, couldn’t have been more obscene if they’d tried. I was turned on and wanting him to touch me and not in a way that was even remotely platonic.
I wanted him to kiss me. To pull me off the stool I was perched on and rub himself against me. And I wanted his hands everywhere, especially between my legs, where I was aching for him to touch me.
It had to be the booze.
It was the only explanation because I had never been interested in public displays of affection.
“You are so full of shit.” I laughed, bravery I didn’t usually possess outside of a boardroom finding its way outside of my mouth.
“Well now.” His smile was slow almost taunting. “I’m going to have to prove it.”
I wasn’t sure how but in one quick move I was off the stool I’d been sitting on and standing on my feet. The arm around my waist was probably a clue I hadn’t gotten that way myself, but it had been so fast, it took a minute to register.
“Walk,” he said, motioning for my feet to cooperate and do what they were supposed to. “Unless you want a scene and then I’ll happily carry you.”
“Whatever,” I hissed but I didn’t stop the one foot in front of the other. “I think you’re bluffing.”
To be honest, I wasn’t so sure. And more to the point, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to be.
Hell, maybe what we needed was just to have sex, get it out of our system, and move on. Probably not the rational thing to do but considering I’d been rational and it wasn’t working out for me, maybe I needed to do the opposite.
Or maybe even one drink when I was in Kyle’s presence was too much. Considering after two I married him, I should definitely not have another.
“Keep walking, sweetheart,” he breathed into my ear. “I’m far from bluffing.”
This wasn’t some dingy bar, the classy establishment was filled with men in business suits and women in pencil skirts, none of which who were paying us any attention.
It felt so illicit, so unlike me and yet I didn’t want to stop.
Not yet at least.
By the time we’d reached the employee bathroom, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop. He pulled open the door and pushed me inside against the wall. His body pressed firm against me.
“Now, who’s bluffing?” he whispered, dragging his nose up against mine.
Something inside of me snapped. My mouth found his before he had a chance to find mine and I clawed at him to get closer.
He kissed me back hard as his hands moved lower, grabbing my ass and pushing me higher against the bathroom wall.
It was a frenzy of lips and hands, and bodies dry humping.
While one of his hands held me steady the other hiked up my skirt so that it bunched up around my waist. And with my panties exposed, he moved his attention to my shirt, with amazing—and what I believed to be super human—agility unbuttoning it to reveal my demi cup bra.
Thank God it hadn’t been laundry day, and I was wearing my nice lingerie.
“Yes.” The word moaned out of me as he lifted my leg to get a better angle. The bulge in his pants did an amazing job at hitting me right where I needed it. “Yes.”
I’d never had sex in a public place.
Never wanted to.
But here I was in a bathroom a few feet away from people I worked with, and an unsecured door, ready to have a complete stranger make me come.
What the hell was I doing? And why the hell wasn’t I stopping?
“Tell me to stop, Sarah.” His mouth moved to my neck as his hands moved to between my legs. “Tell me to stop or I’m not going to.”
“Don’t stop.”
His mouth moved back to mine, his tongue teasing apart my lips as his hard-on rocked against me. Every part of my skin goose bumped, my nipples pressing against the lace of my bra dying for his hand or mouth to touch them. They knew what was coming and were desperate to be kissed, licked, touched, savored—in every way.
“Fuck, I want you.” He sucked hard against my throat as his hand pulled aside my panties and plunged two fingers inside of me. “I love the feel of you.”
It felt different from our night in Vegas—hotter, more intense. My body amped up from the memory, craving what it knew he would do to me.
“I love the feel of you too,” I answered lamely as my hips swirled against his hand, the sweet friction making me so wet I was dangerously close to coming.
So close.
I was so close and I wasn’t even naked.
His mouth moved to my breast, pulling down the lace with his teeth and then flicked my nipple with his tongue. And with his fingers still inside, he used the heel of his palm to circle my clit in an overload of stimulation I had no hope of resisting.
“Kyle!” My legs started to shake as I exploded around his hand. “I’m coming.”
He didn’t stop, teasing every last ounce of pleasure out of me as I struggled to remain standing.
It hadn’t taken long, a few minutes at most and he had reduced me to a hot mess.
“Mmmm, I liked that.” He slowly removed his hand from inside my panties and pulled my skirt down. “So sweet.” He lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them as I watched.
“I-I—”
Yeah, I wasn’t sure what I wanted or needed to say but words weren’t my friends right now, my body still struggling to remain upright.
“You were amazing.” His lips pressing softly against mine. “And I would love to continue, but I’m not fucking you here.”
“Yeah, we shouldn’t do that.” My head shook even though it wasn’t convinced as I tried to button up my blouse. I didn’t possess the same dexterity it seemed, my hands fumbling. So much for me not doing what he wanted, I’d really shown him. My willpower and resistance were clearly non-existent.
“Get yourself cleaned up, I’ll see you out there in a few minutes.” He turned on the faucet and washed his hands, completely ignoring the very obvious erection we still hadn’t taken care of.
“What about—” My eyes lowered to his hips, my tongue unconsciously sliding across my lips as I contemplated.
His lips twisted, his smile slow as he dried off his hands with a paper towel and stalked closer.
“Shouldn’t we?” I closed my eyes enjoying the weight of him on me, his scent intoxicating me. “I could . . .”
“Later.” He stopped, kissing my nose before pulling away. His body tensed in a display of subhuman control. “See you out there.”
And with a flick of his wrist he tossed the paper towel into the waste paper basket and walked out.
Gone.
What?
What!
How could he walk away? I was a hot mess and I knew he was turned on, I’d felt how hard he was, seen the heat in his eyes. How could he just . . . resist? Was he proving a point?
I was so fucking confused.
Chapter 7
Kyle
I wondered if it were possible to lose the function of your dick.
Fairly sure if there were such a condition, I was dangerously close to being afflicted.
It took an iron will to walk out and leave her there.
Even more so not to go into the men’s room and jerk off.
But my cock wasn’t craving my hand, so while it would have taken the edge off, I wasn’t going to be even close to satisfied by the empty orgasm.
It was like my own personal brand of self-flagellation.
And clearly I had lost my mind.
Unsurprisingly, after Sarah exited the bathroom and rejoined the group, she made her apologies, deciding to leave.
Headache.
Long day/early morning.
Or some other such bullshit.
I swallowed another mouthful of scotch and let the evening come to its natural conclusion before heading back to my apartment, alone.
Crystal had very kindly offered to help me find my way back. In case my sense of direction was still lacking, or my dick needed to be sucked. But in a move that shocked us both, I turned her down.
What had also been shocking was that I hadn’t had sex since I’d moved. Originally chalked up to lack of opportunity, it became evident that my dry spell was more likely self-imposed. Which was a first as far as I could remember.
And the revelations continued.
It was sometime after midnight when my phone buzzed. Its obnoxious vibrating pulled me from what I had been telling myself was sleeping. It wasn’t. But my eyes had been shut so I figured it was close enough to classify.