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Authors: Sabrina Darby
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smirk on his lips, as if he knew there was no way in hell I or any other woman would go for that.
“OK.”
He dropped his hand.
I amused myself. I really did. Of course I wasn’t fine with that sort of highhanded treatment, but agreeing was worth that look on his face.
“OK?”
“Sure. For now,” I said with a shrug, smiling inwardly. “But I’d better get back to work.”
And when he did text that afternoon, just as my workday was ending, I did exactly as he said. Took that long elevator ride to the top floor, nodded to Janine, who stared at me impassively, whatever judgments she might have hidden far behind her professional façade, and then entered Daniel’s office.
When I stepped inside, he was standing next to his desk, shuffling a stack of papers with no sign of stopping work for the day. He looked up, and that half smile of his struck me hard, just like it did every time I saw him. He met me halfway across the room, pulled me tight against him and I instinctively rose up on my toes to meet his kiss, breathed in the scent of his skin.
“I still smell of you,” I said softly as I broke away, lowered down to my heels. “All day.”
He touched my hair, stroked my neck, and my world became the place where his skin connected with mine. “Like I’ve marked you.”
“How territorial,” I managed to say lightly, teasingly. But he
had
marked me. Was marking me.
And after that, the week was one long game of hide and go sex. I started carrying condoms in my purse after all because I never knew when or where. Well, if it was during the workday, it was the thirtieth floor. But there was also the time in his Porsche and a rather quick encounter bent over the kitchen counter on the third floor during lunch hour. And three nights in a row I slept over at his house, read through Hemingway’s newspaper articles as Daniel worked, showered in his shower, and went straight to work from his bed.
My body craved his with a ridiculously increasing intensity, as if sex with him were meth and I’d become an addict. It felt good. It felt dangerous. I knew I had crossed the line ages ago but I didn’t know how to stop or how to go back to a time before.
I did all the work asked of me and if anyone noticed my extended “bathroom breaks,” they didn’t comment. Except for James, who shot me judgmental looks as if he knew exactly what hanky panky was going on. Which, I supposed, he did. Maybe he was my conscience, my Jiminy Cricket, and I should have heeded the warnings in his disapproval. Instead, I went deeper.
On Friday, I started thinking about the weekend. There was a show in Cambridge that Leanna wanted to go to. There was a gallery opening as well on Saturday. But what I really wanted to know was whether this weeklong flirtation would keep going or if Daniel would fall back on whatever pre-scheduled events he had.
Lunch hour passed without any message from him. I’d been answering his texts all week, jumping at his call, and it just felt too quiet. Maybe it was time for the game to change.
Two p.m. He was in a meeting; I knew that. He’d mentioned that one of his business associates from London was in town. But at the same time, I wanted him. I wanted him to do what
I
wanted him to do.
I flipped open my phone. Started typing.
thirtieth floor. Now.
I had no idea if he’d meet me. I could totally understand if he didn’t. Yet if he did … I couldn’t stop the pleased smile at that idea.
I took my time, strolled to the elevator, stopped to ask Jillian, one of the higher-ups in the department, if she wanted the image I was rendering in any specific format. Maybe I fooled no one, but the meandering made me feel less conspicuous.
The thirtieth floor was its usual dim self, the hallway eerily silent. I stepped into the conference room. Empty. I struggled to ignore the disappointment. The elevator ride from thirty-second floor to thirtieth was much shorter. He’d had plenty of time to get
“OK.”
He dropped his hand.
I amused myself. I really did. Of course I wasn’t fine with that sort of highhanded treatment, but agreeing was worth that look on his face.
“OK?”
“Sure. For now,” I said with a shrug, smiling inwardly. “But I’d better get back to work.”
And when he did text that afternoon, just as my workday was ending, I did exactly as he said. Took that long elevator ride to the top floor, nodded to Janine, who stared at me impassively, whatever judgments she might have hidden far behind her professional façade, and then entered Daniel’s office.
When I stepped inside, he was standing next to his desk, shuffling a stack of papers with no sign of stopping work for the day. He looked up, and that half smile of his struck me hard, just like it did every time I saw him. He met me halfway across the room, pulled me tight against him and I instinctively rose up on my toes to meet his kiss, breathed in the scent of his skin.
“I still smell of you,” I said softly as I broke away, lowered down to my heels. “All day.”
He touched my hair, stroked my neck, and my world became the place where his skin connected with mine. “Like I’ve marked you.”
“How territorial,” I managed to say lightly, teasingly. But he
had
marked me. Was marking me.
And after that, the week was one long game of hide and go sex. I started carrying condoms in my purse after all because I never knew when or where. Well, if it was during the workday, it was the thirtieth floor. But there was also the time in his Porsche and a rather quick encounter bent over the kitchen counter on the third floor during lunch hour. And three nights in a row I slept over at his house, read through Hemingway’s newspaper articles as Daniel worked, showered in his shower, and went straight to work from his bed.
My body craved his with a ridiculously increasing intensity, as if sex with him were meth and I’d become an addict. It felt good. It felt dangerous. I knew I had crossed the line ages ago but I didn’t know how to stop or how to go back to a time before.
I did all the work asked of me and if anyone noticed my extended “bathroom breaks,” they didn’t comment. Except for James, who shot me judgmental looks as if he knew exactly what hanky panky was going on. Which, I supposed, he did. Maybe he was my conscience, my Jiminy Cricket, and I should have heeded the warnings in his disapproval. Instead, I went deeper.
On Friday, I started thinking about the weekend. There was a show in Cambridge that Leanna wanted to go to. There was a gallery opening as well on Saturday. But what I really wanted to know was whether this weeklong flirtation would keep going or if Daniel would fall back on whatever pre-scheduled events he had.
Lunch hour passed without any message from him. I’d been answering his texts all week, jumping at his call, and it just felt too quiet. Maybe it was time for the game to change.
Two p.m. He was in a meeting; I knew that. He’d mentioned that one of his business associates from London was in town. But at the same time, I wanted him. I wanted him to do what
I
wanted him to do.
I flipped open my phone. Started typing.
thirtieth floor. Now.
I had no idea if he’d meet me. I could totally understand if he didn’t. Yet if he did … I couldn’t stop the pleased smile at that idea.
I took my time, strolled to the elevator, stopped to ask Jillian, one of the higher-ups in the department, if she wanted the image I was rendering in any specific format. Maybe I fooled no one, but the meandering made me feel less conspicuous.
The thirtieth floor was its usual dim self, the hallway eerily silent. I stepped into the conference room. Empty. I struggled to ignore the disappointment. The elevator ride from thirty-second floor to thirtieth was much shorter. He’d had plenty of time to get
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