Page 22 of Let's Call a Truce
The memory shot through me like a physical blow. He’d made his stance perfectly clear, and I wouldn’t open myself up because of one kind look. I jolted back, locking down my vulnerability with a piercing glare.
His eyes hardened, too. “Enjoy the weekend and make sure you have your work ready for our meeting next week. Your recruitment strategy needs to be outlined beforehand.”
“You are not my boss. This is an interdivisional project we arepartneringon.”
“We may be in different departments, but technically, I am your superior. Or will be in a couple of weeks.”
“Despite your opinion of yourself, I haven’t seen anything superior about you.”
“There are plenty of things I’m superior at. Need a demonstration?” His voice dipped as he leaned toward me. It was such a terrible line, I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or smack him.
“Never in a million years, so please save your posturing for someone you can impress.”
I shouldered past him, ignoring how my body heated from the brief contact, and stomped across the field to get Sophie. His eyes burned into the back of my head, and I wondered, not for the first time, how the hell we were supposed to get through this meeting—much less finish developing the program—without burning the place to the ground.
Chapter 7
Eyes dark andhungry, focused entirely on me. I tried to sit up from where I lay, but I was frozen. Color spun around us, like living inside a Van Gogh painting, and I turned my head to follow the swirls with a sense of euphoria.
Ben lowered himself over me, pushing my hair back from my neck before kissing and licking his way up to my ear. I sighed, and my eyes fluttered closed.
“How long are we going to play this game, Juliana?” His teeth nipped at my earlobe, and my core clenched in response. “You pretending you hate me? Me pretending I don’t need you more than my next breath?”
I arched into him, gaining enough control of my body for my arms to wrap around his torso and bring his body flat on top of me. I moaned at the friction, thinking I would give anything to feel him inside of me.
“No more games. Just give me what I need.”
He slipped my pajama shorts down my legs, lining himself up with my entrance. I arched into him, begging for the intrusion, whimpering from every pass of his erection against my sensitive flesh. He pushed forward—
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP
Fuck.The alarm always went off too early.
My hand came down on the off button harder than necessary,and I glared at my old-fashioned alarm clock. I bought it to avoid the dead-cell-phone, missed-alarm scenario—five minutes could be the difference between a peaceful morning and complete mayhem—but there was also something satisfying about smacking the shit out of it every day.
Trying to shake off the dream, I stretched. I’d be lying if I said it was my first dream starring the bane of my existence, but he was too good-looking for my subconscious mind to ignore.
After a few minutes, I realized the ache wasn’t going away without help, and I couldn’t have this tension throwing me off in our meeting first thing this morning. Ashamed of myself—but not ashamed enough to stop—I slipped my hand under my pajama’s waistband, picturing the rest of my dream that was so rudely interrupted.
I imagined him pushing inside me, grabbing my breast before taking one of my nipples between his lips and giving me a soft bite. The pressure built inside of me. A few more strokes would get me where I desperately needed to be.
“MOMMMMM!” The scream from Clara was the only warning I had before she barged into my room. I yanked my hand out of my pants and shot up, my body tight, flushed, and pissed at yet another interruption.
I need to start locking the door.
“What did we say about knocking, Clara? I’ll do it for you, but you have to do it for me, too. Come on.” Her face dropped, and I felt a stab in my chest. Great. Now I was hornyandguilty. “I’m sorry, sweetie. What’s up?”
“Ugh, I’m sorry, but I’m so mad at Sophie. She keeps taking my stuff.” She let out a frustrated groan to punctuate her complaint.
I rubbed my hands over my face, torn between the urge to screamfigure it outand guilt for snapping at her. The guilt won out, and I dragged myself out of bed to deal with another inconsequential sibling squabble, leaving me with no time to take care of my little problem.
In my office hours later, I tried to channel my untapped energy on something productive. I had made it through the fifteen-minute meeting with Ben unscathed, running through my plan as quickly as possible before shooting out of the office.
My reflection in the black monitor caught my attention, and I wished I had more time to spend on myself. I loved my hair most of the time, but it took work. The lion’s mane surrounding my head were my curls at their absolute worst. Jason used to call it my sex hair, but without the fun part. With the monitor acting as a mirror, I started gathering the curls into a topknot, praying my hair tie was enough to keep it all contained.
With my hands in my hair, I received a knock on my door. I looked up to find the star of my dreams in the flesh. His eyes trailed from my hair, down my arm, and back up the slope of my neck to my eyes. I flushed in every spot he looked, but I tried to school my expression to hide the flare of arousal I got from him looking at me.
Apparently, unsuccessfully.
