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“Planning parties isn’t exactly what I wanted to do either, but our fearless leader—who wassupposedto have done this for her best friend—is busy running this ship.” Talia’s attention is fixed on a stack of notes she has piled before her. She turns the top page, reading.
“We could continue this over lunch.” It was getting close to noon, and there was a part of me that wasdyingto treat her to a meal.
“No,” she answers without looking up.
“How about dinner? Tonight.” I’m testing my luck on that one, and I know it, but somehow I still have hope.
“No.”
My jaw clenches, my frustrations growing. I test my luck even further and graze my knuckles from her ear down to the nape of her neck. She flinches away before I can finish the touch and gives me an incredulous look.
“What are you doing?” she asks acidly.
She’s making this game impossible to win, but I don’t back down from her glare. “Showing you how I want you.”
She scoffs, turning back to her notes. “You know what I want.”
My jaw tics again. “Why do you need me to beg, Talia?”
“Don’t say my name like that.”
“How am Isupposedto say your name?” I slouch back in my seat, crossing my arms.
She shoots me another glare, eyes narrowing. “Not like you want to fuck me.”
“But Idowant to fuck you!” I’m going insane. “I’ve always made that partveryclear.” My words are close enough to begging that I stop talking before I reallydostart pleading this woman for sex. I lean forward again, resting my forearms on the desk to bring our faces closer together. To my surprise, neither of us pull away as I ask in a low voice, “Do you really not want me the way I want you?”
Talia’s eyes roam over my face, as if assessing me for the right answer. For a second, her gaze softens, her lips part, and I think I might get to kiss her again, but her scowl returns.
“No.” She turns back to her notes.
I inhale sharply through my nose. I want to pull my hair out. I want her so badly its maddening. I want tonotwant her so badly its maddening. “Why do you need me to beg?” I ask again in a strained voice.
She takes a moment to answer, a pregnant pause lingering between us as she avoids my gaze again. Eventually, she says, “Because I bet you’ve never begged for anyone to sleep with you in your life. In fact, my guess is you’ve pretty much been handedeverythingyou’ve ever wanted. And if you’re going to have me, I’m going to be different. I’m not accepting it any other way.”
I laugh. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it?” She whirls on me in her chair, her hand on the desk clenched into a tight fist. “I’ve never done anything without preemptive measures, and I’m not about to stop now. Not for you, not for your cock. So if you want me,convinceme. I’m not easy, and I would have thought someone like you would have liked a challenge.”
Is she asking me to break her resolve?I think, assessing her tense shoulders, the way her fists have yet to unclench, the pinched skin between her brows. My guess is Talia has never been relaxed in her life. She’s controlling, I know that. Uptight, sure. And suddenly, I know exactly what she needs, and in this moment, it has nothing to do with me having sex with her.
I rise from my seat. She looks up at me, confusion written over her features as I look back at her. Her tension never leaves even as I say in a soft voice, “Stand up.”
She listens, as I thought she might, rising to her feet in front of me.
Grabbing her still clenched fists, I ease them open with gentle fingers and massage her palms until they relax at her sides. Her eyes stay on me as I run my hands up her arms until they’re at her shoulders, where I massage there, too, until I feel them relax under the pressure.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, a strain to her voice that I can’t quite comprehend.
Finally, I reach up and rub the crease out between her brows with my thumb. Then I pull away.
“Feel better?” I ask, one brow raising in question.
She doesn’t answer, so I sit back down and grab my phone to start making the calls to these caterers. Talia has stayed standing, a long moment passing until she sinks back into her seat slowly. There’s no more argument from her, and I don’t need any further words to know that it felt good for her.
Slow game it is, then.
I make a few calls, scheduling a few tastings and typing them down in Nyla’s calendar, the time passing slowly and quietly as Talia keeps at work. I don’t miss the numerous glances she gives me in between our silent, cooperative work, I just pretend not to notice.
