Page 97 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I

I flinch, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Sure. I mean, it feels like forever since I’ve gone for a run.”

“You know, I went back to the track a few times, hoping you’d run into me again,” I say, grinning, knowing she’ll get my joke.

Her lips form a playful smile as her fingers fan across her delicate collarbone. “But you ran into me.”

“Hmm…” I sit back in my chair and readjust in my seat to make room in my pants for my engorged cock. “I recall that you weren't paying attention to where you were walking.”

“You mean on the sidewalk, which was a designated no-running zone.”

“I’ve never seen that sign.”

“Then you weren’t paying attention, Mr. Valentine.”

I’m gonna blow if I don’t calm down.“Well, I’m paying attention now.”Damn, she’s sexy when she parts her lips that way.

It takes every ounce off willpower I have to stay seated and not spread her across my desk. I want my mouth on her clit. I want to taste her and make her soft, wet, and hot before I slowly slide into her. I want to feel her quivering around my cock for more than five minutes.

But I’m her boss, and I’ve already crossed several lines. I clear my throat. “Sunday, then. Where do you live?” I try to sound at ease.

Paisley Grove

That free-and-easy feeling I’ve been experiencing takes a sudden plunge.Should I tell him where I live?

“Not too far from here,” I say.

He narrows an eye as he cocks his head. “How far away from here do you live?”

I release the breath I’ve been holding.

“Don’t worry, Lark. I’m not going to show up on your doorstep uninvited.”

I hate when he calls me Lark. I would love to hear Hercules say my real name. I would love it if he knew exactly who he had sex with last night.

“I don’t feel that way at all,” I say, even though several layers under the surface, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. “I live off the High Line.”

“Ah, okay. That’s a trek from where I live,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “How about I have a car pick you up and take you to the Columbus Circle Kiosk? I could meet you there, and we can run the six-mile loop.” He sounds so pragmatic, which is a big difference from the flirtatious tone he took seconds ago.

However, the thought of Hercules knowing where I live still terrifies me. “I don’t need a car,” I say, waving my hand flippantly. “I’ll just meet you at the kiosk.”

“That’s too far. My car will pick you up.” His tone suggests that his way is a done deal.

“Not for me,” I sing in defiance. I never knew Hercules was this headstrong. It’s kind of sexy and a little annoying.

He’s opening his mouth to say something when my stomach growls loudly enough to echo through his office. All I want to do is groan from embarrassment, but that would only make me feel more embarrassed.

“Ha,” he says. “You’re hungry.”

I glance down at my belly, angry at it. “Yeah, a little.”Actually, a lot.

He grunts thoughtfully and then looks me over. “Lark, stand,” he gently commands.

Naturally curious, I rise to my feet. Hercules walks around his desk and then across the office to take his coat off the coat-tree. I’m so enamored by the way he carries himself as he shuffles toward me. The biological responses he incites within me are off the charts. And knowing that he clearly wants me makes it better for me in some ways and worse in others. The fact that I’m mispresenting myself sends me a warning like a pop-up blocker. I can’t get too attached to him. If I do, then I’ll be setting myself up for heartbreak. One day, he's going to learn the truth. I can’t play Lark Davenport forever.

“You’ll need this,” he says, holding up his coat for me to slip into.

I’m lightheaded. It’s as if I’m existing outside my body when I slip one arm through the sleeve and then the other.