Page 17 of Until You’re Breathless (Insatiable #1)

He winks at me and gestures for me to follow him.

When I walk into the same area that we were in yesterday, it’s full of people milling around, like in a medical laboratory, only they’re all in coveralls, some of them wearing safety goggles.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stop them from working, he just casually takes me around to each individually, and they show me exactly what they’re working on.

It whets my appetite so much I have to stifle the urge to throw on a pair of coveralls myself.

We go back to Jagger’s office, and he sits down.

There is a package sitting on his desk, face down.

He pushes it towards me. “Take a look. Tell me what you think.”

“Okay.” I say, almost hesitantly, but the little smirk on his face tells me that I have nothing to fear.

When I review what he is offering me, I’m impressed.

It’s seven figures to start, with any signing bonuses, plus a creative incentive plan that puts me front and center with him and his front-line team.

I couldn’t ask for more. There is a long section regarding rights and legalities, which I expected.

“Feel free to have your lawyer look over that before signing it.” He says fairly.

“Thanks. I’ll take this with me if it’s all the same to you.”

“Sure.” He licks his lips. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you. No. A million thank yous. You won’t regret it.”

“I already don’t. Something tells me that this is the beginning of a fantastic adventure that I’d be crazy to pass up.”

I can’t help the smile. “My mother is worried.”

“Yeah?” He’s impressed. “How’s she doing? It’s been a long time.”

“It has. She’s still a fan of yours.”

“The feeling is mutual.” He sits forward and opens his laptop. “We’re throwing a birthday party for Stevie in a couple of weeks. You should come. Bring your mother. She always loved my sister, too.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t ask Stevie?”

He waves. “She’s all about ‘the more the merrier’. Nothing has changed.”

“Well, she does own a PR firm.”

“Yeah, she’s the one that put this party together.” He chuckles.

“She put her own birthday party together?”

He nods. “That’s Stevie.”

I want to change the subject. “I have to tell you...I’m dying to get back in that room and get my hands dirty again.”

“Did you bring a change of clothes?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go.” He gestures with his head and rises from the chair.

I actually squeal I’m so excited. He chuckles. “You’ll do well here. We avoid sitting in meetings unnecessarily. We’re all about getting dirty and playing in the sandbox.”

“I’m game.”

Jagger shows me the engine with one of his newest contraptions attached.

The function is to offer more speed with less fuel consumption.

He hooks it up to a meter that simulates driving and energy usage, and then he kicks it onto hybrid mode to show me the difference.

I watch, knowing that there’s one thing missing that I’d come up with right before walking away from Kruger, that Boston didn’t give me the chance to voice.

When he’s done, I show him the small tweak, and he’s immediately impressed.

“Fuck...me. How did I not think of that?” He says, raking a hand through his hair.

It’s nine o’clock at night, but it feels like noon.

A true testament to time flying the most when one is having fun.

“Because you didn’t stay up half the night eating cheddar cheese curlies like I did about six months ago. And I had P.M.S. Some say women are the weaker sex due to our hormones. I can prove the latter.”

“I never doubted it, Bowie.” He says with a smile.

“You’re here early.” Jagger says to me. It’s six thirty in the morning, but I didn’t finish some analytics that I was working on last night, and I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I came here.

“Yeah, I’m just finishing those analytics. We need those to prepare for the big day.” The big day, meaning the day that we submit our preliminary numbers to Drummond Motors, the biggest European car manufacturing plant in the world.

“Why don’t you show me what you’ve got.” He says, sitting next to me.

He still smells the same way he did back in high school.

It’s not a cologne or a soap, it’s just him.

I draw in a deep breath and release it nonchalantly, making it look like I'm just taking in a cleansing breath as the Excel spreadsheet populates. The heat from his body warms me instantly. While he’s in a swiveling desk chair, rolled over to me, I can feel his breath on me, even though he’s only in my personal space a little.

“Here.” I tell him, pointing to a number, using the cursor.

His hand touches mine as he tries to take the mouse, and I leave it there for a second.

His hand stays on mine, almost like he’s oblivious to it being there, or he doesn’t care.

It’s weird how our connection is very similar to how it was back then.

There are no preambles, no disengaging forethoughts, just getting the work done.

It’s a natural thing. Like we were always meant to work together.

Like there is no awkwardness if his hand touches mine for a second longer, or if I brush up against him while grabbing a tool or a file that’s next to him.

It’s weird that it’s not weird...

“Yeah. No, that’s just what I suspected.

” He says and looks at me. I look at him, and for a second, my eyes go to his lips and his go to mine.

Oh, are we doing this now? Yet another thing that would be considered awkward and grounds for sexual harassment in any other workplace, but not here.

As he speaks, his eyes are going from my eyes to my lips. “It’s the new relay.”

“Exactly.” I answer, trying to focus, but my body is so warm it’s distracting.

He breaks the spell by turning away, rising off the chair. He rakes a hand through his hair. “You want a coffee?”

“Sure.” I answer, wondering if he feels as warm as I do.

We never made any promises about staying away from each other.

I think it’s supposed to be implied. I’m supposed to be healing from my previous heartbreak, most would say.

Some would say that I’m using Jagger to get over Boston.

Some would say that I just want him for sex and nothing else, simply because I no longer have someone to itch that scratch for me anymore.

However, those people would be wrong. The truth is, that itch hasn’t been scratched in the way it should be scratched in a long time.

...And nobody ever scratched me the way that Jagger did.

Not Boston.

Not anyone.

But I can’t think that way. We’re supposed to be professionals.

We have a professional relationship. And what would become of this if we acted on my impulses, and it didn’t work out?

And how do I even know that Jagger is having the same impulses?

For all I know he was just going to get coffee innocently. He wasn’t leaving for any other reason.

...or was he?

“I say fuck him and get it out of your system.” Jinny states benignly, with her mouth full of salad, as I run it by her during lunch. I might as well have asked her if my pants matched my shirt, the way she answers me.

“I’m not a whore, like someone I know, Jinny.”

She just chuckles. It’s not the first time I’ve called her a whore and it won’t be the last. “Think of how much more productive you'll be once the sexual tension is gone.”

“How do I even know that he’s feeling any sexual tension?”

She lifts a brow. “He’s a guy, isn’t he.”

“Funny. He works with all sorts of girls, and that assistant of his keeps giving him googly eyes. It makes me wanna puke.”

“Beat the shit out of her or tell him you want her fired.”

“I can’t do that. I’ve only been here two weeks.”

“So what. If she’s on your nerves, you’re the fucking second head honcho here, and you have a say, Bowie.”

“What am I going to say? ' Gee, Jagger. That whore that books your calendar and answers your phone calls wants you to fuck her, if she isn’t already .'...that’ll go over well, right?” My finger is on my cheek, and my eyes are focused on the wall, in jest.

We’re in the lunchroom, somewhere we’ve never been, and we both see Rush walk in. The look on his face tells us that he overheard. “He is fucking her. I told him to cut it out already.”

“Shit. Sorry, Rush. Didn’t know you were there.” Jinny states.

He waves, grabbing a coffee from the carafe. “It makes everyone uncomfortable. She’s a great worker, according to Jagger, but I think she’s a fucking distraction.’

“I agree.” I say, not holding back. “She needs to wear something that covers the fucking silicone.”

“Well, he won’t listen to me, so maybe he’ll listen to you.” Rush suggests. “Halen’s got another assistant lined up for him, but he doesn’t want to let go of the head, if you know what I mean.”

“Gross.” I wince. “Yeah, we know what you mean.”

“So, who’s going to do it.” Rush says with a grunt, planting his ass on the chair next to Jinny.

Jinny says. “Do we want to draw straws?’