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It was a Friday, right after I’d returned from a deposition, when Roarke dropped by the office. He was inside for a long time, and finally, after a couple of hours, I went over and knocked on his door, knowing everyone was watching.
As I watched, he packed up his things. I saw that he had come in wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but I’d thought he was just picking something up.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my breath short from seeing him.
“Leaving,” he replied, and I gaped at him in shock.
“You’re partner. You helped create this firm. What do you mean, you’re leaving?”
“I can’t work with you,” he said simply and kept packing up the box on his desk.
“You can’t do this,” I told him, striding over to the desk and taking the box from him.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped, but I just kept eye contact with him.
“This is stupid, Roarke. Neither of us has to leave our jobs because we had a stupid fling—”
“A stupid fling? Is that what it was to you?” he asked, coming around from behind his desk to stand close to me.
I stood my ground. “Isn’t that what it was?”
Roarke set his jaw and looked away from me. “I guess.”
“I just came here to tell you that I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I’m sorry that I lied to you about my father.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “None of it matters.”
“It matters to me!” I said passionately, staring up at him. I wanted to lean up and kiss him but that would just lead to more sex and that wasn’t what we needed right now. “What you say and what you do matters to me, Roarke.”
He looked up at me. “Why?”
I bit my lip. I didn’t want to say it. I couldn’t say it. I was embarrassed that I’d lied, embarrassed that I’d said yes to a date with Mark Windham, embarrassed that I’d fallen in love with Roarke Brentwood, my father’s best friend and my boss.
I put the box down on his desk. ”Don’t leave,” I told him. “I’ll quit.”
“Riley—” he started, but I just turned around and left his office.
He didn’t catch up to me until I was already packing up my desk.
“This is stupid,” he hissed, shutting my door and drawing the blinds. “We can’t both leave.”
“Exactly. Which is why I’m leaving,” I said.
“You’re leaving because you and I had sex?” he asked.
“Isn’t that why you’re leaving?” I shot back, and he groaned.
“You drive me crazy,” he said, taking a few predatory steps toward me.
I didn’t back down. He came around to the inside of my desk and swept the paperwork aside.
I didn’t answer him, not quite knowing what to say. He grabbed me around the waist and lifted me onto the desk, leaning down to kiss me hard, and I kissed him back with fervor.
This was what I was trying to avoid, but fuck it. Enough damage had been done already.
He unbuttoned my blouse and kissing along my cleavage, between my breasts. My skin felt like it was on fire I wanted him so much.
“I can’t stand you,” he murmured. “I want you all the time.”
