Page 48 of Let's Call a Truce
His eyes flicked up at me and then back to his design dismissively. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“You have every right to be mad at me, and I owe you a conversation, but something really big just happened. Can we call one more truce?”
“These truces are going to be the death of me,” he muttered. He shook his head as he ran both hands through his hair, leaving it tussled. “Fine, what is it?”
I barely contained the happy dance trying to burst out of me. “I got it.”
“Got what?”
“The CRO job. Eduardo said it’s mine. Christina’s going to train me through the end of August, but it’s official. I have the contract and everything.” I squealed, and this time the happy dance escaped.
His eyes softened at my excitement, a small smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t the huge one I was hoping for, but I’d take what I could get. “Congratulations.”
He stood from his drafting table and met me in the middle of his office. I stretched up to hug him around his neck, having to go on my toes to reach. His arms banded around my waist, pulling me close and turning his face toward my neck.
I meant for the hug to be a quick, congratulatory squeeze, but I found my arms tightening and couldn’t resist running my fingers through the hair at the top of his neck. My mind flashed with memories of his hands on my body, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, fingers tangled in my hair.
He softly inhaled, following it with a shaky breath out.
I inched back, but kept my arms in place. The intensity in his eyes was enough to burn me, but I couldn’t look away.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said.
“Like what?” I didn’t recognize the breathy voice that came out of me.
“Like you want me to kiss you again.” His breath fanned over my lips, only a few inches away.
I lifted one eyebrow and gave a little shrug but didn’t contradict what he said. “Is that whatyouwant?”
He watched me for a few seconds, long enough to make me wonder if it reallywasn’twhat he wanted anymore. PerhapsI had pushed him too far. But then his hands slid from where they were wrapped around my back to my hips, tugging my body flush with his.
He dipped his head and ran his nose along the length of my neck. “Are you going to run from me again, Juliana?”
I whimpered, but answered honestly. “I don’t know.”
He let out a low growl, dragging his lips up to my ear. “Do you want to run from me now?”
Most of my life was uncertain, nothing but a big ball of stress wondering if I was making the right choices or spending my time wisely. But if there was one thing I could say with absolute certainty, it was that I was exactly where I wanted to be, with Ben’s fingers gripping my hips and his words in my ear.
It felt good. So fucking good, with a rough, desperate edge that had my core clenching before he’d even touched me. It was different from what I’d had with Jason, but maybe that wasn’t wrong, the way I’d thought at the wedding. They were different men, and I was a different woman. The past few years had altered my DNA, and this new woman, the one savoring the bite of Ben’s fingers and the dangerous edge to his voice, had never wanted anyone more.
“No,” I whispered, letting my hands runs down his strong shoulders until I clutched his biceps. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
He extracted himself from my arms and walked over to the door, flipping the lock. His eyes locked back on mine as he pressed a button, and his automatic blinds lowered.
“I don’t plan on sharing you with any voyeurs across the street. In here, you’re mine.”
My breath hitched as he gathered me back in his arms, wrapping his hands through my hair as he brought my lips to his. Like the last two times, we both fell into the kiss. Ben nipped at my bottom lip, begging entrance into my mouth, and he let out a low groan when our tongues met. The sound shotstraight to my core, causing me to whimper and lean more fully into his body. My hands dove into his hair, the soft strands gliding through my fingers.
Ben’s lips left mine, leaving a trail along my jaw and down my neck as his hand slipped under the hem of my dress. I gasped at the contact, and he huffed a laugh against my skin as he skimmed his hand up my thigh before clenching my hip. I was on fire everywhere he touched me, desperate for him to continue. His touch moved on, featherlight, to the front of my underwear, skimming over where I needed him most.
“Ben.”
He continued his slow torture. “Tell me what you want, Juliana.”
“Touch me,” I rasped.
Hetsked, pulling his hand away. “You’re the one always harping on the importance of manners.”
