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Other than the tea and croissant that I had at Matthias's office, I haven't had much else to eat today.
I need to do better with that.
A shout comes from the main room and I reluctantly hide the box of Caramello Koalas in one of the locked drawers. I almost laugh at the security overkill, but I'd rather not have to fire anyone for stealing my treats.
Matthias is standing there with his hand up, like he's about to knock on the door when I emerge.
"Wow. That... happens a lot," he mutters to himself. "I just came to see if you are okay. You'd been gone for a while. I wanted to check that you hadn't fainted in a sugar coma.
"Close!" I laugh. "I only ate one."
He cocks his eyebrow.
"Fine,two.But don't tell anyone." I let out a sigh, remembering the first bite, and only stop sighing when he laughs.
"Shut up. I like them, okay?" I poke my tongue out at him, the chocolate making me playful.
"Hey, trust me, it was my hand and I remember." He rubs the back of his hand, wincing dramatically.
"Where did you even get them? I can never find them anywhere."
He grins guiltily. "There's an Aussie snacks website based in DC. I... may have sent someone on the company plane to get them. You looked like you needed a treat. So, I looked, and you're right"—he lets out a chuckle—"you cannot get them anywhere in the tri-state area."
"But... why?" Caramello Koalas make me monosyllabic, apparently.
His lips stretch into a wide smile. "I wanted to. If I could find something that I knew you'd eat every day, then it was worth the trip. Hey, I had a bowl of ph? at my favorite Vietnamese restaurant while I was there." His face freezes, just for a second, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
Realization dawns. "Wait. You had...Youwent?"
Sheepishness edges his face and he tucks his hands into his pockets, like a teenager trying to ask his crush to the prom. When he looks up at me again, though, he's Matthias Baxter, 36-year-old,ninth-richest man in New York City, Director of a Fortune 100 company. Someone who knows exactly what he wants. And it's me.
"I like seeing you smile, Rissie," he murmurs. Then he leans forward, pressing the tip of his tongue against the corner of my mouth.
My heart stills.
It's only there for a second, but my mind swirls in a tornado of Baxter blue.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, smoky. "You just had a little bit of chocolate there, Rissie."
"We can't do this?" I squeak out. "The kiss, this whatever you just did, it can't happen again."
"Why not?" he replied with no hesitation. No doubt. Is this what it's like to be wooed be Matthias? To be swept away by his attention, thoughtfulness, and overpowering...himness.No wonder there's a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes and headlines about his escapades splashed on every paper.
"You have no idea what you're saying."
Heat colors his cheeks. "Sure I do, I said, 'why not?' Why can't we kiss? Didn't you want me to?" He's closer now. He smells like cognac and ambergris, and I want to drown in it.
I can't want this, can't want him. It doesn't make sense. But my body, cleaving to him, doesn't give a fuck about sense. Every cell in my body is vibrating to his frequency.
"Because we agreed." It's the lamest, weakest argument for anything anyone has ever made.
He cocks his eyebrow. "Did we?"
He's not even touching me, just his closeness is making my breath shallow, useless.
"We did, Matthias. Just this morning, it was one of our guidelines that we wouldn't let this confuse anything. Purely business."
He shrugs, and lowers his forehead until our hair touches, but not our skin. "That sounds boring. I abhor boring, Clarissa."
