Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
A moan escaped me as the pain/pleasure teased across my scalp.
Soren took the opportunity for his tongue to slip between my parted lips, claiming mine, teasing and toying until my hands were clinging to his arms, until my body was trembling against his.
We could have gone on like that for hours. Forever.
But sometime while we’d been getting lost in each other, the music had shifted to something faster, and the crowd was jumping around, sending one guy flying into us, knocking us apart.
The second we disconnected, the reality of what we’d done was like an ice bucket tossed over my desire.
What if this just screwed the deal up?
What if Renzo found out?
What would happen to the reputation I’d fought tooth and nail for if everyone found out I’d lost a major job because I’d kissed my partner?
Well, technically, he’d kissed me.
But it didn’t matter.
I’d allowed it.
I’d allowed it, and now everything could be ruined.
No.
No, I couldn’t let that happen.
I could still save this deal. And my damn dignity.
I sucked in a deep breath, channeling every cold, hard bitch I’d ever seen in film or read about in books.
I actually felt a chill move over me, making my skin goosebump and a shiver slide down my spine.
“I thought you wanted to do research,” I said, yelling to be heard over the music, “Not grope me on the dance floor.”
With that and nothing more, I stalked off, storming toward the door like a woman scorned, not fully, thoroughly, mind-numbingly kissed.
The night air was a cooling balm on my overheated skin. My ears rang as I took a steadying breath, my gaze scanning the street, hoping for a cab.
Not seeing any, I turned down the road and started walking, cursing my stupid heels with each step.
“Saff,” Soren called, making me close my eyes and exhale through my nose.
The stubborn part of me wanted to ignore him and keep walking. The part of me that cared what my boss thought about my actions had me stopping, but not turning around.
I swear I sensed him coming up behind me before I felt him. That sizzling static sensation that seemed to crackle between our bodies when we were close.
I didn’t know what I could possibly say if he was going to call me on not being an unwilling participant in that dance and kiss.
Soren exhaled hard enough to rustle my hair.
Then, in a low voice, completely shocked me by saying, “I sincerely apologize if I overstepped a boundary.” He stepped even closer, close enough for me to feel the heat of his body behind mine. “Rest assured I will never do so again.”
There was no accounting for the sinking sensation in my stomach. That was what I wanted. Right? To keep things professional. To not risk my job and reputation.
“How about we meet tomorrow?” he suggested. “At your office. To discuss design plans.”
My office.
That I sincerely hoped Bastian had finished setting up. If not, he would be up at the crack of dawn doing it before the meeting.
“Two p.m.?”
“I’ll be there.”
“I will have Bastian send Teresa the address.”
There was a slight pause, like maybe he was going to say something other than what came out. “Can I give you a lift home? My driver is right down the block…”
“No. I’m going to walk.”
“You live around here?” he asked.
Shit.
I really didn’t need him knowing that.
“To the subway,” I clarified.
“At this time of night? Alone?”
I would have bristled at the concern in his voice if it was literally any other man on the surface of the earth. When Soren said it, though, it made a strange fluttering sensation move across my chest.
“I’m a lot tougher than I look.”
There was another pause—Soren battling with his conscience, no doubt.
“Allow me to walk you to the platform then. For my own peace of mind.”
Dammit.
I literally lived just a few blocks away.
But to keep up with the lie, I guess I was hopping on the closest train to, well, anywhere else.
“Fine,” I agreed, starting to walk.
Soren moved to walk beside me, slowing his much longer-legged pace to stay beside me.
Neither of us said anything as we walked down the block, then down the next set of steps toward the mezzanine, the stark fluorescent lights making me wince as the scent of grease, metal, and, well, urine met my nose.
“I thought you had a driver,” I said as Soren fished a MetroCard out of his wallet.
“I do.”
“Then why have a MetroCard at all?”
“Because traffic in the city can be a nightmare,” he said, swiping his card, moving through the turnstile, then waiting for me in the paid zone. “Sometimes, it makes more sense to take the subway. And other times, I just don’t want to bother Calvin if I’m just heading to an early—or late—meeting.”
I had to admit, I liked him a little more, knowing he wasn’t someone who thought his employees’ whole worlds did—and should—revolve around him.