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Ria smiled coyly, and I felt that warm flush of pleasure that wasn’t just the side effects of the whisky.
Our flirtation was, admittedly, a little dangerous. But I was enjoying myself, she was enjoying herself. Why should we not both take advantage of the situation we’d found ourselves in and make the best of it? I was sure both of us were sensible enough to not catch feelings too hard, considering the relationship was designedly fake.
At least, that’s what I told myself. I was already beginning to find that the heart and the brain can be quite at odds.
I forced myself to concentrate while Ria explained to me the history of Jenni and Helli. I couldn’t help glancing from time to time at her exposed shoulders, her collarbones, and the ample flesh beneath...
I cleared my throat to try and push the horny thoughts out of my brain. It was becoming a nervous tic when around Ria. “How did I not know this about a member of my staff?”
It was concerning. I tended to get my staff very thoroughly vetted. Maybe, because Jenni had campaigned against Apollo, that had been enough to convince my vetters that she wasn’t on his side. I’d need to review the process.
Ria didn’t seem too worried, but then she wasn’t a Brock. She shrugged. “My next step will be to try and speak to her twin.”
“Her mean twin, you mean?”
“Yeah, she’s certainly not as friendly as Jenni. But Jenni and I get along well. The two of them must have some similarities.”
The paradox was that, while Ria had betrayed me, I also trusted her intuition implicitly. And since I had assurance for now that she was on my good side, all I could really do at the moment was cheerlead her attempts to infiltrate my half-brother’s operation.
It felt scary to hand over control. It also felt good. It was slightly addictive.
I clinked my glass against hers. She hadn’t joined me in drinking whisky, opting for a fancy elderflower mocktail. “Good luck.”
We had a fairly civilized and pleasant dinner, chatting about our respective businesses like we were indeed just a normal couple in a normal relationship.
I was sad when we finished eating and there was no good excuse for us to stay chatting.
Ria glanced from her empty plate to me. There was a hesitancy in her voice. “I suppose we’d best get some rest.”
I nodded, despite myself, and despite feeling like she wanted me to disagree with her. I was still trying to keep this professional.
We stepped outside. The air had gotten cold while we’d been laughing and eating in the warm restaurant, filled with warm bodies. Ria shuddered. I glanced at her. Her arms were covered in goosebumps, the tiny hairs sticking up on end.
I reached out to brush her arm without thinking. She met my eyes, both of us surprised, and then she touched my bicep, our arms interlinked.
All thoughts of being professional fled my mind. I threaded my other arm around her waist and pulled her into me. Not just for warmth, though I am sure I had some noble notion of providing the heat she so clearly lacked in the icy night-time air.
She shuddered in my arms and nestled in closer until our faces were inches apart. I met her eyes, a mysterious combination of soft and intense, like she was seeing some illusion that I could not.
And then, I kissed her. My whole body felt aware of my lips meeting hers. Every part of me woke up. She smiled into my mouth and kissed back, gently at first and then passionately, threading her tongue in through my lips then tauntingly darting it away again.
Moments like this, she almost made this grumpy computer science skeptic believe in magic.
Almost. I pulled away. As nice as it was, it had to end.
She sighed, still smiling, still close to me, and nestled her head into my chest.
Oh. I hadn’t expected that. It was so intimate.
I breathed in the scent of her hair. Fresh and floral, with a distinct note of burning incense. For a moment I just held her there, the warmth of my body against the slowly-warming cold of her skin.
But really, I was the icy-hearted one, because once again I broke off first. “I’ll call you a car, get you home safe.” I murmured it into her hair and used one hand to pull out my phone.
I texted my drivers, squinting at the phone screen over her shoulder. She didn’t seem inclined to leave my arms at all. Or to speak. For once, she was silent.
Even when her car arrived, she drew softly away from my hold, her hand lingering on that bicep still even as she walked towards the car, until she was an arm span away from me and had to let even her fingertips part.
Then she was in the car, and she was gone. I didn’t even have the decency to feel ashamed, chasten myself for letting go once more. I simply flew home in a dreamy daze, jacked off in bed thinking of her touch, her skin – I don’t claim to be a saint – and had the best night’s sleep I’d had so far. Maybe ever.
