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His smile spreads slowly across his face. It is fire and it is flame and my brain is beginning to get very, very anxious.
‘How did you sleep?’
Does he know I dreamed of him? That in my dreams he did very, very bad things to me?
I swallow, crossing my arms over my chest as the memories nip at my heels. They are in the room with us, swirling around him, me and the things we did. I can’t give them more air.
‘Did you want something?’
He stands up, and I am frozen to the spot as he moves confidently across the room, shutting the door and clicking the lock in place.
‘I slept badly,’ he says, ignoring my question, his voice sunshine on my cool flesh.
‘Mmm...?’ I murmur, making sure no warmth conveys itself to him. ‘Maybe you should have tried a sedative?’
He strides to the chair across from his and holds it out. Shooting him a look laced with my fiercest resentment, I sit down, careful not to so much as brush against his fingertips. Fingers that have now been inside me—that have not just touched me, but have breached my barriers and found my throbbing heart.
Fingers that have undone me.
I am holding my breath again. Is that how I’m going to get over this little hurdle? Suffocate myself? Is that even possible? I’m pretty sure we have some breathing trigger in our brains, but my brain is a bit pissy with me so maybe it would conveniently forget about the button.
I push air out consciously, quietly, and he takes his seat.
‘Anyway...’ I prompt impatiently.
His smile is a flicker. Is he laughing at me? Arrogant arsehole! That’d be just like him. See? That’s the problem! I know him. I’m not one of his other women. I know that he is as bastardy as he is sexy.
‘How did you sleep?’
I blink at him, my eyes wide. ‘You’ve already asked me that.’
‘You didn’t answer.’
I expel a sigh that speaks of anger. ‘Like I always do. Seriously, Jack. My desk is covered in paper. I have to get to work.’
‘I’m your work,’ he says with a shrug.
Insolent bastard.
He leans forward, and while his face is casual there is an urgency in the flecks of gold that fill his eyes. ‘Did you see him last night?’
I want to remind him of the salient fact I pointed out the night before. It’s not his damned business. But I’m not sure I can say that with such conviction now that I’ve tasted his mouth; now that I’ve been stunned by his desire.
Can I skirt around his question?
‘You’re my work? Okay, the thing is I have the New York guys waiting on contracts, you have a meeting in a week that I have to prepare for and Athens wants your input—which means my input—on a lease agreement. And I need to—’
‘Quiet.’
God! Don’t hate me, but when he’s bossy I love it. And he’s almost always bossy.
I glare at him across his desk; it’s best if he doesn’t know that this is just about my favourite version of him.
‘You’re fucking telling me to be quiet?’ I lean forward, and we’re close now: almost touching. ‘Seriously?’
‘You’re pissed off.’
‘Damn right, I am.’
