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He laughed, and there was something bitter in it. Something not entirely authentic. “Yeah. That’s my problem. Life’s been too easy.”
“Back to the issue of my sex graphics.”
“Yes, let us not forget your sex graphics.”
“Typography?”
“What?”
“Maybe it’s just about playing with the typography for these particular sections. Maybe I was going too elaborate. Or rather, too literal.”
“Though, nothing says you can’t go a little naughty,” he said. “People like that.”
“Okay, sure. So what if there’s a naughty and nice version? Oh! And then like…the kinkier stuff can be in the naughty part. And you can pick if you’re feeling nice or naughty and then…well, in the naughty version you can watch girls suck popsicles and read about getting bent over your desk and taking it from behind while your coworkers are only a thin, shoddily built wall away.”
Caleb froze and dropped the phone on the desk. “I see. And…which section wouldyoupick? I’m asking for beta-testing reasons.”
She could see, from every taut line in his body, that this was not a hypothetical question. And she knew that the way she answered it would have a lot to do with what happened next.
Her breathing quickened, her heart pounding hard. The thing was, she wanted Caleb. Of course she did. She’d practically been aerial silk dancing in her sheets every night trying to get to sleep. And mainly she’d ended up sweaty, and horny and dragging out her vibrator.
She couldn’t even bring herself to fantasize about Aragorn, son of Arathorn or Chris Pine’s version of Captain Kirk.
But that was the state of things.
Caleb was all she could think about. Caleb was all her body wanted. And why shouldn’t she have him again?
He wanted her. Hell, he’d stormed into her building to…take her. Like a marauding pirate, which…no guy had ever done for her.
Jason was more the reluctant wench who would lie there and think of merry old England while he consented to her advances. Which did not do a hell of a lot for her ego.
What was holding her back, anyway?
Probably the fact that she’d decided it would only happen once. And that Caleb was around looking to make it more than one night was…not something she’d bargained for.
And, probably, because she was a little afraid that he’d somehow tricked himself into thinking she’d been awesome in bed, and a repeat performance, in the cold light of day and sober, would prove she was more what Jason thought, than what Caleb seemed to think.
That any illusion she had of being some sort of sexual tigress would be put to rest when she and Caleb touched again—it would be like trying to start a fire in a pile of damp driftwood.
And her moment of empowerment, her sexual triumph, would be destroyed.
So that was bullshit, because who cared? This had nothing to do with Caleb and what he thought of her. He wasn’t her boyfriend. And what did some mythical triumph have to do with anything? It was only triumph if she was happy.
That was her whole problem. It was why she’d stayed with Jason. She got married to ideas, and she put them above her actual wants.
Her actual needs.
And here she was, bent on making her experience with Caleb a magic one-night deal, when she wanted more magic. When she wanted…and just wanted, because she was afraid of making a fool of herself. Afraid of wanting too much.
Well, no more.
She had nothing to lose here. She didn’t love this guy. She could demand whatever she wanted, and if he didn’t want to give it, he could march back to his desk and play “Unicorn Strike.”
“Me?” she asked. “I’m naughty.” Her voice cracked on the word, which sort of undermined her point. But oh well.
“How naughty? Popsicle-licking naughty or…”
She tried to swallow past her dry throat and she just felt like it ended up kind of…stuck together. “Bent-over-the-desk naughty,” she said, feeling a little dizzy.
