Why does my brain have to muddle up my desires?
I’m still asking myself that question as I yank his door open and step inside his office.
He’s not sitting. The business mogul is standing, staring outside the panoramic windows, hands in his pockets, his back to me. That broad back stiffens when the door closes, announcing my presence.
My shoulders knot when he spins around to face me.
Darkened eyes dilate when they take me in, his jawline clenches, and a vein pops out on his muscular neck as his chest expands. Yeah, he’s pissed. “Where were you?” The question is fire-hot, but not loud. Roxie was right; he doesn't yell.
I clutch the planner to my chest, using it as a shield, and take a step back. “You’re reading too much into everything.”
“Bullshit. You were grinding me so hard I almost went off in my pants. That's not overreading.” His words make me instantly dizzy with need, then before I can blink, he’s walking toward me, starting to close the gap, slowly and methodically. “For the love of God, Olivia. What is holding you back?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” I bite out, holding my breath. My teeth find my lower lip as he saunters another step forward. “Whatever you’re feeling between us … it doesn’t mean anything. And I’d appreciate it if you let me handle my issues alone.”
“Ha.” He tilts his head back, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Don’t gaslight me.”
“Gaslight?” My brows wrinkle at his accusation. “I believe you have to be a narcissist to do that.”
“No. You don’t,” he says, taking a wide stance. “The definition is, making someone question their sanity by forcing them to doubt their own experiences.”
His truth makes the hairs on my neck ripple upward until they’re standing. I end up jerking my line of sight away to the corner of the room to make the sensation dissipate.
“Cues like that tell me I’m right.” He saunters forward one pace, and while I’m not looking at him, my skin pricks. “You’d like me to doubt that our kiss even happened—like we weren’t a few seconds from ripping each other’s clothes off because we can’t stay away from each other…”
A crawling silence hits the room, and it forces me to look at him. When I do, regret plummets through my chest, rippling through my ribs. He’s wearing that dark, burning look that sears a path right into my soul. It’s riddled with sex and desire, driving my hormones to a frenzy, and when he finally speaks again, it’s even more intense.
“You want to make it seem like the room doesn’t almost fucking explode when we’re occupying the same space … and I won’t allow you to alter any of that for me.”
“I’m not trying to alter anything for you.” My reply is softer than I want, but it’s because I hate lying like this. He did wreck me—is wrecking me. “I’m only pointing out the facts and saying that what we did is share a kiss, and it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Together, we’re not anything out of the ordinary.”
“A little hard to buy into when you kiss me like you’re about to fucking die.” He takes more steps forward and this time doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me—blue eyes clouded and hazed, thanks to a thick lining of lashes. “I bet one more kiss would have you doing everything all over again.”
“Doubt it.” Lie. Because the heat radiating between my legs tells me otherwise.
“I know I'm not, but let's do an experiment.” His scent swims around me as he presses his hands on the glass, enclosing my body so I have nowhere to run. “Kiss me once more.” A tongue I love and know the taste of runs the course of his mouth. “If nothing happens, then we're done. Permanently.”
My brow raises, while my heart stops. “You mean that?”
“Yes. Because your denial is something that I’m not capable of continuing to accept. It’s proving too much trouble for me to handle.” His voice cracks with dry heat and his gaze dips to my mouth. “Kiss me. Just one more time. I promise to play fair. If nothing happens, if you feel nothing, as you say you do, then I'm forever your boss and nothing more. I want to be needed, but I’m not a dog who is going to hound you for your trust. I promise you; it’ll be over.”
It's a gamble, but if I mask over every reaction, all my problems concerning Grant Brexton vanish. From inner safety, to secrets, to the carnal provocation he riles in me … there’s a chance to set my life back to a normal place—semi normal. Because my pulse will always go into overdrive when I look at him, and I’ll always be curious if Kitty was right—if Grant is someone I need.
But screw all the wondering. The set way—the safe wayis the best way.
Convince Grant for a few mere seconds, and most of my life goes back to normal. No more risk of high-profile events, and my focus can stay where it needs to be. Lonnie Grey—the bastard who, somehow, I’m going to outsmart if he comes looking for me.
I steel my racing heart and nod. “All right.”
Two rapid eye blinks make me think he’s surprised. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, or maybe he didn’t expect so much composure; I’m not sure. All I know is he doesn’t take long to respond. His head lowers and angles. There’s a slight shift in his body as he moves closer, but it’s oceans away from the embrace we had in the elevator or at the bar.
My eyes close once a faint hit of citrus circles up my nose. Thoughts of me being able to stifle my desires stop as his lips brush mine, settle.
Practice and experience allow him to apply the perfect amount of pressure, and his longing is evident when his lips envelop mine and he stifles a gentle moan. Soft suckles pulse against my lower mouth, followed by the sweep of his tongue … and … I'm done.
Fire explodes through my body, ripping me open to a lawless craving for more. My body feels like it’s going to die if I don’t kiss him back. I drop the planner, thrusting myself off the glass, into his body. My hand tugs at his tie, mauling his collar. Cool breath becomes mine as I kiss him back, going lightheaded in the process.
His hands move and cup either side of my head. Another sweep of his tongue tells me he's seeking entry. I relent, and we collapse, resting our full weight against one another.
He groans, and the deep sound rings loudly through my head, drowning out the thuds of my heartbeat. His tongue dips in and out, making me desperate for a different part of him to do the same, then he breaks our kiss.
“That’s what I’m talking about—fucking desperate.” His words are breathless. “I knew it. I knew we weren't done.”
I don’t have time to answer. His lips overtake mine again, and I reciprocate, matching every caress of his tongue, nipping when he nips, sucking when he sucks, but at the same time...
He’s right—I am so reckless, and that’s never been me. I’ve been the cautious woman, looking over her shoulder, being brave as hell, never giving up, not lingering, and sure as fuck not caving to some ruthless billionaire.
And I don’t understand where this is coming from.
Have I been this pent up to where I've lost all control, or is this all because of Brexton? Would I be saner if I never met him? I can't tell. So instead, I bite his lower lip in unidentified frustration.
He grunts, then rips away, pressing a thumb to his reddened lower mouth, panting. “Damn.” He shakes his head, eyes wide. “This is going to be faster than I thought.”
There's no time to reply. His lips devour mine with newfound ferocity. Grant is taking what he wants, moving us across the room. I’m forced backward, to the section right of the entry. It’s an area with couches and chairs that he uses for his best clients.
My ass hits the black leather couch with a plop, and in a daze, I watch him.
Grant is already on his knees, making fast work of my heels. My skin tingles as his hands run up my thighs, stopping above the lace of my thigh-highs. He grips my bare skin and my clit throbs.
Reality sinks in fast and hard. Shit. This is happening. Squeezing my knees together, I hope to buy more time. “Here?” I place my hand on his shoulder.
“Yes.” He seems winded, but the voice is commanding. “Lie back.” In one fluid motion, he scoops my legs up and rests them on the sofa, spinning me sideways.
My heart hammers against my ribs. “But don’t you think—”
“Would you rather my penthouse?” He shrugs out of his jacket, discarding it on the floor. “You can choose where I have you, as long as I have you. I have condoms there too, unlike here.” His powerful frame is halfway over me when an inky black sprig of hair comes undone, brushing his forehead. His eyes are rounded and ablaze, with his tie loose and crooked as he struggles for air.
All of it screams eagerness, racing to unhinged. It's nothing like the controlled man that hired me.
It dawns on me.
This man. ‘Seattle's best playboy' is coming undone for me. Ripping me away from my job, pursuing me, losing himself in elevators, and now his office … because of me.
It’s undeniably sexy. I conclude he can have me wherever he wants, because I want him just as much. I shake my head. “No. Here is fin–”
The statement cuts off. His lips overtake mine, and he's above me. One knee wedges between my legs, and his other sinks in-between the back of the couch cushions. The weight of his body presses on me in full, and I accept the crushing force.
Deft fingers make quick work of the buttons on my blouse, and he flays it open, revealing my white silk camisole underneath. Warm, confident hands grip around my waist, and he shudders.
His jawline ticks as he kneads at the fabric. “Already, you’re a fucking dream.”
“Oh, God.” I seal my eyes closed at the feeling of his hands on me. The rest of the world blacks out, and I’m only aware of his touch as he acquaints himself with my body.
“This waist of yours. So tiny.” He tugs at the fabric, threatening to untuck it from my pencil skirt. “And I can’t wait to kiss the rest of you, to make this perfect body of yours buck for me, Liv.”
I freeze. Oh shit, no. My scar. The worst of the bunch. I'll need a diversion because once Grant sees it, he’ll never be able to unsee it. If he's anticipating perfection, he won't find it, and I’m not going to be a disappointment during our first time. Placing my hand over his, I squeeze, making him pause. “Grant…”
He takes the hint and looks up at me, his broad shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession. I can tell by the driven look in his eyes that this will be a struggle. “You’re not asking me to stop, are you? I will, but—”