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I swear, my restraint around this guy was non-existent. I heard myself telling him, “No,” before I could even rationally think up a good, sturdy rejection. “I hope not.”
“Thank God.”
With a moan of pleasure, he smashed his mouth back to mine and thrust his tongue between my teeth. The kiss became primal. Savage. I climbed him, and he helped hoist me up by gripping my ass again and then backing me into a tree. When my spine met bark, I wound my legs around his narrow waist before he ground against me and twined his tongue with mine.
Nothing existed but his mouth, his body, his smell which drugged me into forgetting everything else. It was surreal and yet the most vividly real thing I’d ever experienced.
When he came up for air, I panted and clung to him, dizzy with need.
He kept me protectively cuddled against the trunk of the tree as he whispered his lips across my cheekbone to my ear. “You’re shaking. I can’t see your expression. Are you doing okay? Do you want me to stop?”
“I don’t…” No, I didn’t want to stop, but what I said was, “I don’t know.” I hid my face in the crook of his neck, seeking comfort as much as I escaped reality. “My head is spinning. This is crazy. This is just so crazy.”
He pressed his lips to my temple. “Trust me, I know.”
“I mean, oh my God, I don't even know your name,” I went on, blurting out my panic that was beginning to grow now that his lips were off mine and he was making me think rationally. “Or what your face looks like. Or—”
“Shh. It’s okay. I know.” He traced my cheek tenderly with his nose before tucking my stray piece of hair behind my ear. “This is definitely wild and unexpected, I agree.” His touch was extremely gentle and feather-light as if he were trying to figure out what I looked like from feel alone. “But at least learning names and faces is one thing we can fix. Here…”
After finding my hand, he wound our fingers together and tugged me away from the tree before starting through the courtyard and leading me away.
“What…” I shook my head even as I followed him willingly. “Where’re we going?”
“I want to see your face too. And learn who you are. So I’m taking you inside. Where there’s light. We can introduce ourselves to each other there.”
But instead of calming me, that idea only ratcheted the anxiety even more. “What? No!” I skidded to a halt, making him stop as well.
“What?” He turned to me, his confusion oozing through the dark. “Why not?”
“Because...” I started, not sure how to explain myself, because seriously, why not? I didn’t exactly know why not. I just knew I was suddenly nervous. “What if… What if…” There were too many variables to list, I ended up blurting out the most embarrassing and vain fear I had. “What if you don't like what you see? I mean, I could be hideously disfigured, or something?”
My hair had to be horribly matted after wearing it under the Power Ranger helmet mask—which I’d totally lost during all the kissing—and I’d put zero makeup on before leaving the house, and geesh, I had the tiniest gap between my two front teeth. My dad had always talked about how cute it was, but what if it turned this guy off?
What if he thought I was—
“Hey.” His voice was soft and reassuring as he drifted the backs of his fingers over my cheek. “Don’t worry. My sister’s disfigured, and she’s one of the most beautiful people I know. I’m not out to judge, I’m just curious. Aren’t you curious?”
Oh Lord, that was the most perfect answer I think a person could ever give. Something inside me melted. I wanted to impress him even more now. And so my apprehensions rose. But I ended up nodding. “Yes, I’m curious too,” all the while silently begging, please like what you see, please like what you see, as he once again towed me toward the light of the open door.
We cleared the bushes and then there was nothing but an open expanse of asphalt between us and the truth. If I looked up at him now, I’d be able to see the features of his face.
Fear made me stare fixedly straight ahead and not up to him. “What if someone else is in the hallway?” I asked. I wasn’t exactly ready to stop what we’d started in the courtyard. But other people would totally put a damper on the situation.
“We can go to my office for privacy if you want,” he assured. “I just need to see you.”
I began to nod, even as he tugged me through the doorway. But then my brow knit with confusion.
“Wait. Office?” I repeated. “You have your own office? Are you a department head?”
I swore, only department heads had their own office at JFI. The company was split into eight departments: Dresses, Shirts, Pants, Jackets, Belts, Shoes, Undergarments, and Purses. Lana headed Dresses, my stepbrothers got Shoes and Purses, and Jackets went to Nash, which left four departments heads after that, two of which were run by women, one an older married man, and then finally a man who was so short he was barely five feet high (definitely not this guy).
So then, who—
“I’m not just a department head,” Maleficent said as he stopped barely inside the building and turned to face me. “I’m—”
“Nash.”
The word gasped from me as shock spiraled through my extremities.
