Page 33

THIRTY-THREE

Kinsley

When I fuck you, it’s not going to be because I paid for it. It’s going to be because you beg me for it.

Not if I fuck you, but when I fuck you.

When .

It’s been almost twenty-four hours, and those words are still hammering around my skull, wreaking havoc on all the promises I made to myself. Can’t forget my libido either. This bitch has been desperate for another orgasm, and nothing I’ve done seems to make a difference.

I should be pissed. I mean, I am pissed. He came into my apartment yesterday with his brother and best friend in tow and moved all my shit without asking me. Don’t get me wrong, the place he picked for me is super nice. And big.

But that’s not the point.

They should have asked. They should have respected my decision. And they sure as hell shouldn’t have just done what they wanted to anyway.

And why?

So I’ll beg Brantley to fuck me?

That’s never going to happen.

Not only do I not appreciate their dictation over my life, but doing anything with my bosses was a one-time lapse in judgment. Temporary insanity. No exceptions.

Doesn’t matter if I don’t believe myself right now.

And it sure as hell doesn’t matter if I picture Brantley bending me over his desk every time I walk into his office. I just need to make sure I don’t go in there. Problem solved. Easy peasy.

“Hello, earth to Kinsley.” Brianna waves a hand in front of my face before taking a large bite of her sandwich, eyeing me cautiously over the wholewheat bread.

“Do you think they’ve brainwashed her?” Margo leans toward Brianna and whispers. Loudly.

“Absolutely. She looks like a zombie.” Her head tilts as she studies me. “Maybe a little more color.”

“Blink twice if you need help.”

I wave them off with a laugh, taking a generous bite of my grilled chicken salad. While I’m not a fan of being down here, it’s nice to see the girls again. I didn’t realize how much I missed my work friends. No matter how ridiculous they are. “I haven't been brainwashed. And I don’t need help.”

“Could have fooled me.” Brianna’s gaze narrows, and her lips purse together as she assesses me. She picks up her pickle spear and points it directly at me, splashing my cheek with its juices. Well, I don’t miss that. “You couldn’t even be bothered to come down and have lunch with us. I thought we were your friends.”

“You are my friends. Things have been…a bit crazy up on the top floor.”

Understatement of the century, but it’s not like I can tell them what’s actually going on. Definitely not in the crowded lunchroom.

I glance around and several people are watching me, some making it obvious while others are more discreet. They’re probably waiting to see if I break down and cry into my salad like the previous secretaries. Well, they’re going to be waiting quite a long time.

I lean toward them and lower my voice. “And I didn’t want to come down and be stared at. Sitting down here is like being the main exhibit in the zoo. I feel like I should start performing.”

Margo shrugs as she takes a quick sip of her water and rips open her bag of chips. “It’s nothing personal. They’re just trying to gauge if they have a chance at winning the pool.”

My brows crash together, and I place my fork down on my napkin. I have a feeling I’m about to get a little stabby, and it’s best I don’t have a sharp object in my hand. Especially in a room full of lawyers. “What pool?”

“On when you’ll quit or get fired. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it, but maybe news doesn’t travel that quickly to the top floor. I think the pot is already up to fifteen hundred dollars. You’ve already outlasted most of the temps, and people are excited. I haven’t seen Jim this happy since the last season of Survivor.”

“Excited to see me quit? Or get fired? Seriously?”

She shrugs again, as she grabs a handful of chips and tosses them in her mouth. “Like I said, it’s nothing personal.”

I lean back with a scoff, catching the attention of two junior associates seated at the table adjacent to ours. They’re openly watching me with stupid ass smiles, and I’m sure they’ve been talking about me. Since I can’t stab them, I narrow my gaze, stare them down, and don’t stop until they shift and eventually look away. Dumbasses. I hope they feel as uncomfortable as they look.

This is exactly why I was hesitant to eat down here in the first place. I knew working with the owners would put a target on my back. Although, I didn’t realize they’d literally be betting against me.

When I turn back to the table, Brianna is the one watching me, the look on her face wary. “Don’t worry about them. So, I have to ask…the senior partners. Are they really as bad as everyone says?”

I pause for several seconds.

It would be so easy to say yes, have them feeling sorry for me, but in truth, they’re not that terrible. Even if Wyatt didn’t know my name until a few days ago. And they all moved me into their building without my permission. And they’re all incapable of doing simple things for themselves.

“They’re more misunderstood than anything.” I take a bite of chicken, and as a horrified look crosses Brianna’s face, I quickly add, “But they are very demanding. Real jerks.”

“Speaking of jerks.” Margo slips down in her chair like she’s trying to make herself smaller and nods behind me.

The cookies.

I don’t need to turn around to know Maverick is hovering by the chocolate chunks, the very same cookies I’ve been avoiding since I got down here. I don’t need another cookie mishap, and now that I know the other employees are betting on my demise, I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.

For everyone’s sake, the less I’m seen around my bosses the better.

Let’s hope they get the memo.

But as Margo’s eyes widen and her gaze shifts above my head, I don’t think that’s the case.

Dammit.

So much for having a normal lunch with the gals. Maybe he’ll get his cookie and retreat to his lair.

A throat clears behind me, killing that thought, and even though everything in me says to ignore him, I turn around.

Maverick gives the three of us a blinding smile, and I’m pretty sure either Brianna or Margo swooned behind me. He does have a nice smile.

“If you’re done with your lunch, Miss Rhodes, I need you upstairs for a client meeting.” His eyes sparkle with mischief, and he gives the girls a wink. He’s lucky there actually is a meeting in ten minutes, or he and I would be having words. “In case you need the extra energy, I swiped you a cookie. Our favorite .”

And yep, you guessed it. He tosses the cookie down in front of me because telling everyone around us it’s our favorite wasn’t enough. He has the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I guess I should consider myself lucky he didn’t climb up on our table to tell everyone he’s seen me naked.

There’s no way I’m sitting down here and finishing my lunch after that. So, I pack up the rest of my salad and aggressively shove the cookie in my lunchbox. He’s not wrong, it is my favorite; I’m just not going to eat it anywhere near him.

“I’m so sorry, guys. I really should go.” I send Brianna and Margo what I hope are apologetic looks, and after they wave me off and mumble their goodbyes, I scramble to follow Maverick.

Not because I want to get stuck in the elevator with him, because I don’t. But because we do have a meeting.

Him being here is an annoyance. An unwanted annoyance.

Yeah, that’s why my eyes are glued to his backside as I follow him into the elevator.

Stupid cookie. It got me into this whole mess in the first place.

“Not going to eat your cookie? It was the last one.” As the elevator door closes us in the tight space, he glances over at me, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have to leave on my account. You had a few more minutes.”

His tone is light, teasing, yet the air around us swirls with tension. I’m not sure what to say or how to act. It’s our first time alone since, you know…and instead of the smart comment I should be launching back at him, my brain is empty. Okay, it's not entirely empty. I can very clearly picture him stroking his impressive erection while demanding that I touch myself.

My gaze shifts to his, and I swallow. Hard.

The smirk dies from his face, and his cocky playboy persona is gone.

Right now he’s not my boss, and I’m not his legal secretary. He’s just a man, one I feel inexplicably drawn to, despite my brain telling me to keep my distance.

He takes a step toward me, and my breath catches in my throat.

He reaches out, his fingers gently caressing down the side of my face, and my lunchbox falls to the floor with a thud.

“Kinsley.” The way he says my name sounds tortured, like he’s struggling to control himself.

I don’t respond. I can’t. I can only lean into his touch as his gaze shifts between mine and my lips.

My stomach flops, and my heart is beating so wild, so fast I’m afraid I’m going to need medical attention.

He leans closer. His face is inches from mine. His spiced clove scent is surrounding me. Every exhale ghosts across my lips. Electricity hums around us, and for once, I wish I could give in to the pull.

But then the elevator door opens, the dinging sound echoing through the space, and we jump apart.

My hand flies to my chest, my breaths coming in heavy pants as I realize what I almost did. I was seconds away from kissing my boss. At work. In the elevator where anyone could have walked in.

I’m so stupid. So unbelievably stupid.

“I’m so sorry.” I mumble, heat working its way across my face, and I flee. I don’t even grab my lunchbox.