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His jaw ticks hard and his palms come down on the table so his thumbs are pressing against the outside of my legs. Hot goosebumps race up and down my body. He brings his face closer to mine, sandy blonde hair dangling in front of his eyes. “I would have to convince you otherwise.”
“By teasing me and being mean?” I ask. “Because that hasn’t worked so well for you to this point.”
“Teasing?” he says, voice low. “You could call what I’m thinking about teasing. Yeah.”
My throat clicks. “How would you tease me?” I can’t seem to stop myself from pushing this more and more. Warmth is pulsing between my legs and I want to cross them, but he’s so close I’d end up kicking him if I tried. He has me caged in, and even if it feels like I’m suffocating, I don’t know if I want him to stop.
“Mia,” he warns, eyes locking with mine.
My breath catches because it’s the first time he’s used my actual name since he came back to Frosty Harbor. Not Calloway. Not you.
Mia.
The word comes off his tongue like warm honey.
“I’m barely fucking holding to self-control and restraint right now,” he says.
The way he’s looking at me like it’s all he can do to keep his hands and his mouth off of me is the highest form of flattery, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so wanted or desired. It’s addictive. It’s ecstasy without him needing to lay so much as a finger on me.
It’s an uncomplicated promise to erase the tension we’ve been avoiding this whole time. We could just give in. Give in and let loose, only for a little while. I won’t lie and say my body isn’t practically vibrating with a desire to do exactly that.
“Why are you fighting it so hard?” I whisper.
“You don’t want me,” he says as if his sentence is meant to taunt me. He knows damn well I want him, even if it goes against every shred of good judgment I have. He knows, but he also has some kind of pact with himself to make me admit it before he pushes things further.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask. I’m not sure where my bravery is coming from, but I do cross my legs now. I do it slowly and purposefully, lifting my right leg a little so my ankle brushes his inner thigh, between his legs, and then down again on his other thigh.
Nolan lets out a shaky breath, then the corner of his mouth pulls up. I try to hold eye contact without letting it show that my heart is losing its damn mind inside my ribcage right now.
I’m almost certain he’s about to kiss me–maybe even fuck me right there on the prep table with the entire staff just steps away. I’m not even sure if I’d be able to stop him, but Zander’s voice interrupts us before I find out.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Nolan says, eyes never leaving mine and hands still locking me in.
I squirm in discomfort. The collision of my body’s carnal desire and my much more important dreams and aspirations hits me like an atom bomb.
What the hell am I doing?
“Let me out,” I say quietly.
“What?” Nolan asks. His eyes search mine, and I see the first shred of hurt there.
“Let me down,” I say again, pushing slightly against him. I need my job more than I need casual sex or any kind of release. I need Zander to know I’m not putting anything before my desire to be the best employee I can be for Taste.
He steps back, watching me with a stunned expression.
“What were you doing to her?” Zander asks.
“It was nothing,” I say. “We were just being stupid.”
“Wait over there, Mia,” Zander commands with an edge of anger in his voice. He points to the dining room without looking at me. His focus is on Nolan.
“Don’t order her around,” Nolan says. “She’s not your fucking maid.”
“She’s my employee,” Zander counters.
The men come face to face, hands at their sides and chests out. Everybody with eyes knows Nolan would win in a fist fight, but Zander appears to be ready to take his licks if it comes to that.
