Conflicted (4 page)

Once Cole took care of the check and we sat in the back of the Expedition, I took out the iPad to notate the evening. Cole’s attention was glued to his phone until I looked up and his eyes were on me.

I smiled awkwardly, surprised at his attention. He’d become fairly prone to ignoring my existence except when he needed me to do something for him, so seeing him gaze at me with no context was quite out of the ordinary.

He didn’t smile back, and something in his expression changed. It had to be the darkness in the backseat of the Expedition. I was crazy to think I may have caught a hint of heat in his gaze, but then he turned his head and stared out the window with a heavy sigh, breaking the moment between us.

“I thought tonight went well,” I said, trying to cut into the tension he’d created.

“Just have to figure out that magic number now.” He said it quietly and without turning his head from the window.

“I can help in the morning.”

“I need it tonight.”

I glanced at the clock on the top of my iPad. It was getting late. Dinner ran longer than I’d expected.

But what did I have waiting for me at home? Maybe a husband—if he was home—who wouldn’t bother saying more than two words to me if he was so inclined to rip his eyes away from whatever device he was working on?

“Then I’ll help you tonight.”

“Shouldn’t you go home to your husband?”

The mention of my husband sent an icy regret down my spine.

“He’s fine. I want to help you. The details from the night are fresh in my mind now. They’ll fade by morning.”

He finally turned from the window, but only in order to glare at me. “I pay you to make sure they don’t fade.”

I held up my iPad. “That’s what this is for.” I smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. It was futile. Despite the success of the evening, Cole was in as bad a mood as ever.

The Expedition pulled up to the front of our building, and Cole got out. He stood beside the door while I scooted out the same door he’d used.

“It’s late. Go home,” he said tiredly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I just need to pop upstairs to finish my notes and drop off my iPad.”

“Fine.”

I followed as he strode toward the elevator. He pressed the button and we waited in silence for it to arrive.

I tried to think of something—anything—to say, some piece of trivial conversation to try to break into the awkward wall between us, but I came up short.

My biggest problem when I felt uncomfortable was my tendency to ramble. Cole Benson did something different to me. I was struck speechless in his presence. I was too busy dreaming of what he kept hidden under his expensive suits to figure out something to say.

The elevator arrived and the doors opened. We walked in together, and as soon as the doors closed, the air shifted. The tight, enclosed space grew warm with a new kind of tension between us, and I found myself thinking about his lips. His full, velvety lips.

I wondered what sorts of talented things he could do with those lips.

And the tongue that he kept hidden behind those lips. I wondered where on my body I would like the feel of his tongue best.

Over the weeks I’d been working for him, I’d noticed Cole’s tongue several times. When he was deep in concentration pouring over contracts, reading emails, or pondering a specific campaign, his tongue peeked out from between his lips.

Every single time I caught a glimpse of that tongue, I couldn’t help but put it to use in my mind’s fantasies. I imagined his tongue dancing against mine. I imagined it licking its way from my ankle to my knee to my thigh to my center. I imagined it caressing my ear, whispering across my nipple, grazing my hipbone.

The elevator felt suddenly too small. I waved my hand in front of my face, fanning myself as I tried to cool down.

Cole’s eyes were on me. I could feel them, but I refused to acknowledge them.

I wanted to look at him. I wanted to see his eyes on me. I wanted to feel like he didn’t hate me. I wanted to feel like he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

I couldn’t want him.

I didn’t want him.

I hated him.

I was married.

I snuck a peek at him in the mirrored reflection of the elevator doors. His body was turned in my direction, but his head faced forward. Body language spoke loudly, though. The way he was turned in toward me suggested that maybe he didn’t dislike me as much as he acted like he did.

Our eyes met in the reflection as a soft sheen of perspiration broke out on my forehead.

I shouldn’t have been in an elevator on my way up to the office alone with my hot boss. I should’ve just taken my iPad home with me, typed up my notes, and gotten in bed beside the man I married.

Instead, I found myself wanting Cole to kiss me and touch me in a tiny elevator too late at night.

I broke our eye contact.

Being attracted to somebody was one thing, but in that moment on the elevator, I wanted to act on it. I wanted to feel that tongue I’d been fantasizing about moving against my body.

I wanted something to make me feel alive again.

If I acted on it, though, I’d not be just potentially ruining my career. I’d also be potentially ruining my marriage.

CHAPTER FIVE

As we exited the elevator, I had no idea what to expect. I saw several potential outcomes. In one scenario, Cole swept all the papers and office supplies off my desk in a dramatic movie-inspired moment and took me right there in the empty office. In another scenario, he had me pressed up against the windows overlooking the skyscrapers of Los Angeles.

The thought that he wouldn’t act on that random, steamy moment in the elevator never crossed my mind.

And the scenario that actually happened also never entered my mind.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Cole said to an unreasonably gorgeous blonde woman sitting in one of the chairs across from my desk. She wore a tight, black dress that left very little to the imagination, and I suddenly felt very juvenile in my sundress with flowers all over it.

“You said you’d be coming back to the office after your dinner,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

He gave her an irritated look before glancing back over at me. I noticed he looked at her with a different irritation than he reserved for me on a daily basis. “Get in my office,” he growled at her.

I had to wonder if he was going to use the blonde to dispel the sexual tension that had thickened the air of the elevator around us.

I had no business wondering it, and I should’ve been relieved that an obstacle had presented itself. Whoever she was, she’d stopped me from making a mistake, one that I certainly had never even considered making before.

He followed her into his office and slammed the door. I sat at my desk, shoved my disappointment out of my mind, and typed my notes from the evening. I did a few basic calculations, emailed my notes and my numbers to Cole, and bolted out of there before I had a chance to hear what might go on between the two of them.

Except for the days Cole was a total tyrant, I actually liked my job. I was good at it, and it wasn’t something that came easily overnight. I’d worked hard to get where I was, and I wasn’t going to let some dumb crush ruin it.

I’d put Cole out of my mind. I’d force myself to get over my attraction to him, I’d talk to John, and I’d get everything back on track.

Besides, I was being totally silly. I didn’t know why I thought just because he’d been looking at me in the elevator reflection that he suddenly wanted me. It was ridiculous.

I saw John’s car in the parking lot. I assumed he’d be home since it was after eleven, and when my mind drifted to Cole and that blonde, I immediately banished the thought and the jealousy that paired with it.

I’d read somewhere once that it took two weeks to make something a habit, so if I forced myself to think of John every time Cole entered my mind for two weeks, then maybe I wouldn’t think of Cole anymore. Maybe all this time I was to blame for the rift between John and me. Our marriage might not be such a mess if I’d put more focus on the two of us and less focus on work.

John was in front of the television when I walked in.

“Hey,” I said, setting my purse down on the counter.

“Hey.”

I sauntered into the kitchen and poured myself a large glass of wine. I sat down on the couch beside him, taking a few gulps of wine before turning to study him. “How was your day?”

He glanced over at me. His green eyes seemed surprised to see me sitting beside him. He ran a hand through his short, dirty blond hair. “Fine.”

I sighed. “Mine was fine, too.” My voice came out a touch more annoyed than I’d planned it to, but for God’s sake, it was a common courtesy to ask someone how her day was in return.

Another look of surprise met me.

“John, we need to talk.”

He didn’t say anything.

“What’s going on between us?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean things have changed. We used to talk and do things. We used to love each other. Now it’s like we’re roommates who don’t even like each other.”

“You don’t like me anymore?”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. “That’s your takeaway?”

“We’re fine.”

“Fine. We’re fine. My day was fine. Everything’s always
fine
, John.”

“Yeah, it is. Where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from months of frustration. From you ignoring me when I walk in the door. From me not caring to ask about your day beyond your ‘
fine.
’” From me having a really strong attraction to another man.

I left that last part out, but it probably needed to be said. Maybe then he’d realize the gravity of the situation and he’d say more than one word to me, because our marriage certainly wasn’t
fine
.

“Do you really want to hear about my day?” he asked.

I nodded. That wasn’t what this was about, necessarily, but we had to start somewhere.

“I went on a call to an office this morning. Their server crashed, and I spent a couple of hours fixing the problem. I went to Burger King for lunch, where I had a Whopper and a Coke. No fries. I went back to the office and logged my work, got to work on a new website, had a meeting with two managers, and worked on the video game software I’ve been developing. Then I came home.”

The television blared in the background, but we’d made a tiny step in the right direction. We’d at least gotten the ball rolling on conversation. I knew if I told him to turn it off, he’d just think I was nagging him.

I waited for him to ask me how my day was or why I was so late. I waited for him to tell me I looked pretty or that he’d missed me.

But it never came. After he told me about his day, he turned his attention back to the television.

Fine. If words weren’t going to work on him, maybe some action would.

I gulped down the rest of my wine and set my glass on the table in front of me. I scooted a little closer and leaned in to nuzzle his neck.

He wasn’t taking the hint. His eyes were still focused on his show.

I dragged my lips up to his earlobe and sucked. A soft sigh escaped him, so at least I knew I had his attention.

“Lucy, what are you doing?” His voice sounded annoyed.

Why would he possibly be annoyed when his wife wanted a little intimacy?

“Isn’t it obvious?” I whispered.

He shook me off. “I’m tired.”

“You just sit back and let me do the work.” I thought that maybe once I got started, he wouldn’t be able to resist. Maybe a little fun on the couch would help spark things back up between us.

I moved off the couch and knelt between his knees. He wore a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. I ran my hands along his firm thighs and then cupped him on the outside of his shorts, expecting some reaction. Instead, when I looked up at him, his face was unreadable as he continued to stare at the television.

Whatever.

I had all this pent up sexual tension inside of me, and I needed to do something to get rid of it. I lifted his shirt up just a little and dropped kisses on his stomach. He wasn’t muscular, but he was slim.

I pulled him out of his shorts, and he didn’t stop me. He was only semi-hard, but I knew what to do to get him there. I shoved him right into my mouth without preamble.

A small groan escaped him. It had been a while since I’d done this, but it was like riding a bike. I took him to the back of my throat and slowly sucked my way up to the tip. I wasn’t surprised when he squeezed my shoulder after what seemed like only a few bobs of my head. It was his signal that he was about to lose it. I didn’t move my head, and his warm fluid shot to the back of my throat.

And as my husband basked in the glow of a fabulous blow job from his wife, I couldn’t help the thought nagging in the back of my mind despite my promise to myself that I would stop.

What did Cole taste like?

I sat back on the couch, shaking my head slightly to clear Cole out of it. I sighed triumphantly and waited for John to make his move and return the favor.

Instead, he tucked himself back into his pants, shot me a quick smile, and turned his attention back to his show.