Read Online Caught Up in Us by Lauren Blakely - Free Book Online Page B

said in between big chuckles. “That was just so
unexpected. It’s usually the other person who spills the coffee.
You don’t usually spill it on yourself.”
    His eyes widened. “Evidently, I’m
the world’s biggest dork.”
    “It didn’t burn you, did
it?”
    He shook his head as he stood up,
placing the half-empty cup on the low table. The front of his white
shirt was covered in a coffee-colored blotch. “No, it wasn’t that
hot. I can’t stand the way some places make their drinks scalding,
so Delaney always makes sure it’s a civilized
temperature.”
    He walked to a small closet in the
corner of the office and took out a new shirt. “I guess I better
change.”
    “I’ll leave,” I offered, and
started to rise.
    “I don’t mind. Unless it makes you
uncomfortable.”
    Uncomfortable was not the word I’d
use. More like turned
on . When I looked over at Bryan, he was
already unbuttoning his shirt, and I was quite simply rooted to my
seat. If Channing Tatum were in the office taking off his shirt,
I’d find it physically impossible to do anything else but stare at
the spectacle of him undressing too. Bryan reached his cufflinks,
and I watched as he deftly removed them, then laid them on top of a
nearby bookshelf. He took off the shirt, and rested it on the back
of a chair. He wore a white tee-shirt underneath.
    “Your tee-shirt
is stained too.”
    He glanced at the front of his
shirt. “Let’s call this a major win for you for making me laugh so
hard.”
    I mimed making a check mark on a
scorecard, feeling pretty good about the way power was flowing
these days. I was the one steering the ship. Then, I sucked in a
breath as he removed his tee-shirt. All my anger slinked away, all
my hurt crept out quietly. I was left only with the one thing that
had never been far away for the last five years – desire for
him.
    I stared and I didn’t try to play
it cool. He was hot, and I wanted to enjoy the view. His chest was
broad and firm, his arms strong, and his stomach as flat as the
earth was rumored to be before Columbus discovered the truth. There
was the slightest trace of hair running from his belly button to
the waistband of his jeans, disappearing beneath his clothes
suggestively. He reached for a fresh tee-shirt in the closet, and a
crisp, clean button-down too.
    Fuck it.
    Fuck the act. Fuck the cool girl
routine.
    So much for my plan to be tough,
to be civil, to be immune to his charms. I threw that playbook out
the window and started writing a new one – one that was filled with
payoff. This was the real starting over, because he’d called me
pretty, he’d remembered my coffee drink, he’d told me he was glad
to see me. This wasn’t one-sided and I was going to take what I
wanted most right now. To be touched. To be kissed.
    I removed my bulletproof vest, and
spoke my mind. “Come here.”
    He walked to the back of the couch
and leaned down, his face inches from me.
    “Hi,” he said softly.
    “Hi.”
    “Can I?” he
asked, and then reached a hand into my hair, letting my dark brown
strands fall through his fingers. I leaned into his hand, like a
cat, as my answer. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had started
purring.
    “Kat ,” he said in a hungry
voice.
    I looked into his eyes, those
crisp green eyes that drew me in. “I need you to kiss me now,” I
said, as if it were a command.
    “Consider it done.”
    I closed my eyes as his lips
brushed mine with a softness, tenderness and eagerness all wrapped
up in one. I felt as if the whole office, the factory, the city was
gone. There was nothing else but this kiss and I melted into him,
as I had with all our kisses five years ago. But then, there was
something new, something less innocent, as the kiss shifted into
another gear. The way his lips suddenly crushed mine was feverish.
It was frenzied, and it was electric, and full of need. I needed to
feel him. I needed to touch him. I explored his arms, traversing
the shape and size of his forearms