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Except they didn’t have a coupon for that and no time to add one.
They didn’t have a coupon for what happened the next day either. Tom called her in the office, a break from cleaning out her desk drawers. It was a little thrill to hear his voice, but survival to cut him off.
“I’ve got another farewell lunch. I can’t eat with you today.”
“That’s not why I called.”
He’d only called her one other time during the workday, when his father was visiting. “Is something wrong?”
He groaned. “I thought I’d start out by asking what you were wearing—it’s a classic line, right?—but that’s ridiculous because I know you’re wearing a blue dress that ties up at the side.”
“You tied it up for me.” His big hands having no trouble making a tidy bow.
“Because you were wearing the new lingerie.”
And because the closer it got to the end of her stay, the harder it was for them to keep any distance. “You called to talk about my dress and underwear?”
“No. Yes.” A grunt of frustration. “I’m locked in a conference room. I booked it so I’d have privacy. I mentally prepared for this and now I can’t remember a word of what I was going to say. I don’t know why this is so difficult.”
For a moment all she felt was a wild swoop of hope. She had to sit, the force of it was so strong, and then her head cleared. He wasn’t calling to tell her he’d come with her. “Tom O’Connell, are you trying to dirty-talk me?”
“I’m doing an appalling job of it.”
“That’s not an alternative truth.”
“I need to be close to you. I can’t do it in a room that last hosted a discussion about irritable bowel syndrome.” She almost laughed aloud, but he went on. “I need to see you, see the way your eyelids go heavy, smell the perfume in you, the hair stuff and lotions and under that, the wild scent of you. I can’t name it, it’s like fresh air and trees in the forest, but it gets to me, makes me want you. Not that it takes much for me to want you. I even want you when you’re doing something to irritate me.”
He was doing okay before that last line. “Damn me with faint praise, why don’t you?”
“Don’t interrupt. I’m on a roll.”
Oh, grumpy. Barb to the heart. He was trying so hard. And it was all too late to bother.
“I like tying bows on you. I don’t know why. Never tied a bow on a woman before I tied you to the bed last night and I only did that for you. Felt wrong, as if I was taking advantage. As if I was being a jerk. But it turned out differently. If there was more—” He faltered and her pulse stalled. “I’d want to do it again. Tie you up, tie you to me. Untie you, undress you and know you’re still mine.”
Oh hell.
“There’s a way you look at me. I have no clue what you’re thinking. You have this cocky smirk, it’s in your cheekbones and at the corners of your eyes. It’s like an early warning sign that you’re up to something. You give me that look and, Jesus Christ, Flick, it makes me hard. You’re not even trying. And that’s not the strangest thing.
“The freak of it is how I can want you when you’re ranting about inequality. You have no idea how hot it is to hear you go off about universal healthcare and the decline of the middle class, about education reform, Black Lives Matter and entrenched workplace sexism. It’s better than when you go to your knees. And that, that—your eyes on me, wicked, scheming eyes—you know you have total control over me with your hand and your mouth—that is spectacular. But you start up on that stuff you care about and I want to jump you. Like that night in the hallway, I want to make you come so hard your teeth rattle and you’ve got to bite me to stay anchored to the earth.”
“That false start—” she had to clear her throat to go on “—you’re over it.”
“I’m making a fool of myself.”
“Oh no, Tom, you’re not.” He was telling her things that held her over a low heat and made her simmer, cooked her logic, made her set aside the fact this thing they had wasn’t strong enough to stick.
“You in my arms in bed. You snore, did you know that? When you’re in that deep REM sleep, you purr like a little cat. It’s fucking adorable. First few times it woke me, and God help me, it turned me on. I’m lying there trying not to move, not to touch myself, hoping you wake so I can do something about how bothered I am. I think about what I’d do to you, sleepy and sexy. I’d treat you so sweet, until that purr is a roar and we’re both animals for each other. The shame, Flick, isn’t that you don’t need to be awake to make me want you, it’s that I learned to sleep through your damn heavy breathing.” He made a growl of annoyance. “Oh fuck, there’s nothing hot about this.”
Oh yes there was. It was sizzling and heartfelt, sugar to the torch, dissolving slowly, caramelizing through her.
“When you dirty-talked, you had me rigid. I couldn’t walk out into the office. If you’re wet right now, it’s because you’re crying with laughter.”
“Tom.”
He answered with a sigh.
“The thing about dirty talk is it’s play. It’s made up, it’s fantasy.”
