Emma closed her eyes. Still in my arms, with her skirt bunched between us, her breasts still exposed, and my cock buried inside her, Emma laid her head on my shoulder, exhaling in defeat.
What this stunning woman didn’t know and what I couldn’t tell her was that she’d already won.
Lifting Emma off me, I eased her feet to the floor as her skirt cascaded down her legs and she adjusted the top of her blouse.
When my wife looked up, I saw the kaleidoscope of emotions swirling amid more questions in the turbulent blue sea of her eyes.
I wasn’t completely out of touch.
Mentally, I knew what Emma wanted to hear.
Now would be the perfect time to admit she was right and I’d been a dick, or to apologize for what had just transpired, or maybe tell her that I cared what she thought of me and admit that I was affected by everything about her, or that she was already so buried in my psyche that I was more of a subject of hers than the other way around.
I couldn’t form any of those words. Or maybe I wouldn’t.
Instead, I tilted my head toward a door beyond the table. “There’s a bathroom through there. Go clean yourself and we’ll talk.” When she didn’t move, I added, “Unless, of course, you enjoy my come dripping down your legs.”
Her eyes blazed as if napalm was exploding before me. Her palm came to my cheek with an unexpected slap. “Don’t be crude. It doesn’t become you.” The sting came a millisecond later than the strike, in tune with her words.
The shock of her slap outweighed any pain she’d inflicted.
Seizing Emma’s wrist, I held it tight as we both stared at one another.
Emma
My body quaked with emotions I didn’t welcome—pent-up rage combined with disappointment—as Rett’s grip of my wrist tightened. This was another of those moments when sanity was forgotten. Unwilling to budge or look away, I continued my stare. “My answer is yes.” It hadn’t been when I’d committed to this marriage or even earlier when Rett had asked, but after what had just happened, I was confident.
“Yes?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Release me, Rett, unless you have more to prove.”
His grip lessened, but my wrist was still not free. “Yes to what?”
“Do I regret marrying you? I’ve changed my answer to yes.”
Exhaling, he loosened his grip further, his attention going to the faint white line around my wrist. For a moment, his dark stare met mine and then he dropped his hold and tilted his chin toward the door he’d indicated earlier. At the same time a buzzing sound filled the room. Its tinny quality reminded me of the sound coming from an old-fashioned intercom.
Leaving me standing barefooted where I was, Rett began walking toward his desk. With each step, he did as I had done, adjusting himself. While my breasts were now covered, his cock was once again hidden beneath his boxer shorts, his pants were fastened, and his belt buckled. In a matter of the seconds it took him to make the journey from me to his desk, Rett looked nearly as put together as he had when I entered the office.
I saidnearlybecause his longish hair was disheveled. Once Rett reached his destination, he ran his long fingers through the waves. By the focus of his stare, his attention was now on one of the large monitors on his desk.
I watched as he hit a button.
It must have been a speaker because Rett began speaking to someone not present. “What happened? I thought you had plans.”
“Boss.”
I tried to place the voice, but one word wasn’t a lot to work with. I was sure that it was coming from one of Rett’s men. I just wasn’t sure which one. The only one I could eliminate from contention was Ian.
“This news shouldn’t come in a report. You should hear it from me.”
Rett’s dark stare came my way. “Go clean up.”
I crossed my arms over my breasts as I kept my lips together.
In the course of three strides or maybe less, Rett’s long legs had him back to my side of the office. He scooped up my sandals and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the evidence of our encounter from the table. Shoving the handkerchief back in his pocket, he returned the chair he’d moved earlier to its proper place. Next, Rett handed me the sandals. “Put these on. Our talk can wait.”
Exhaling, I reached for the sandals. “Call Ian. I want to leave.”