Loveless (4 page)

“So, you want me and Paige to represent you at the Boston Tech fundraiser so you can attend the 50-on-Fire event?”

“Bingo.”

“When is it again?”

“Two in a half weeks from now.”

That could complicate things depending on whether I’ve slept with Paige by then or not.

If we have slept together, we’ll both just have to suck up the awkwardness and deal with it. It probably won’t be the first time we’ll have to spend time together in that capacity because of work.

But if we haven’t slept together . . .

A plan begins to formulate in my head.

It really is pathetic how my dick totally pops to attention at the thought of Paige all to myself that night.

She’s a virgin, and a sweet girl as Gilliane said. Part of the reason I decided to take it slow with her is because I don’t just want to take her virginity and “run with it”. I’m not that much of an asshole.

Yeah, we won’t go further than the sex, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make it somewhat special for her. Give her something in return for trusting me to be her first.

I can use that night, take her out, give her some glam as Sophie would call it. Rent us a nice hotel room for when it’s over . . .

Damn. I like the idea. Like even more the thought of having almost three weeks to do everything with her that I haven’t gotten to do with women all these years.

The teasing. The build-up. The licking and eating. She’s a virgin so I won’t have to worry about catching anything from her.

I’ll be able to experiment.

Oh, fuck yeah. I’m so going to drag it out for the next two in a half weeks.

Suddenly, another of Paige’s comments comes back to me.
“I just don’t want to drag this on longer than necessary.”
Screw that. She’s going to take what I have to give, and I’m going to make sure she fucking loves it. Regardless of her hurry to get rid of me.

Gilliane taps her nails on her desk and clears her throat.

“I’ll do it,” I say.

“And what about convincing Paige to go with you?”

“You know she’ll do it for the sake of the company.” Paige’s dedicated like that. Something I appreciate more than she will ever know. I’ve been with JouerTech since the beginning, and I’m one-thousand percent invested in seeing it succeed. “Besides, we’re becoming friends. Haven’t you noticed?”

My boss scoffs. Eyebrow raised, she brings her coffee to her lips. “Yes, I noticed. Lots of coffee being delivered.”

Alright. That settles it. I have to be more discreet when it comes to Paige. Obviously, Gilliane’s already caught onto the fact that I want to sleep with her.

If we’re going to keep our little agreement secret, I definitely have to stop the coffee deliveries.

“I’ll let Paige know.” I rise to leave. “Need anything else from me?”

“No. Let me know how she takes it.” Gilliane smirks at me.

I ignore that smirk, deciding it isn’t in my best interest to read too much into it.

“Remember we have that meeting in ten.”

I wave over my shoulder at her. As if I would forget.

Deciding to talk to Paige about our lunch plans later—and bring up the whole fundraiser thing—I step into my office to check some emails before the meeting.

I’m all about my business, focused on what I have to get done prior to the meeting—

Out of the corner of my eye, my peripheral vision zooms in with a laser-like focus that will later shock me.

At the moment, though, I don’t feel shock. Well, I do, but not because of the way my instincts engage, locking on the scene playing out in the office across from mine. It’s all about the scene itself, and the odd detonation that goes off inside me.

Anger
, I realize. Followed closely by an eerie quiet. The dangerous type of quiet.

There are some employees at the company that I don’t know well; other employees, a handful at most, have been there as long as I have and I consider them almost family. The ones I don’t know? I like them well enough. Don’t really have any sort of beef with any of them.

It’s funny how a single instant can change things so drastically.

Zach’s been with the company six months—two months less than Paige. I hadn’t paid enough attention to him to form an actual opinion of him.

I’m paying attention now.

And my opinion is rapidly going to shit.

Zach is standing to the right of Paige’s desk, smiling down at her in a way that’s completely unmistakable. I know another animal on the hunt when I see one.

And Paige has the nerve to say my smile is cheap and flirty?

She’s turned sideways in her seat, blinking up at Zach.

And Zach . . . the fucker’s holding out a large cup of coffee.
Offering
it to her.

Even though there’s already one on her desk.

Paige reaches out one delicate, little hand, taking the coffee from him. Her plump, dark red lips part in a smile.

For him. For Zach.

Because he just gave her fucking
coffee.

It took me a week in a half to get a smile out of her in thanks for my morning deliveries.

Zach’s smile widens, and his eyes drop to Paige’s lap.

No. Not her lap. The freaking lace of her thigh-high is exposed again.

By accident?

Detonation number two echoes between my ears.

No denying it. Definitely anger. And there is no reason for me to even try and deny it. I have every right to be annoyed at that little display.

Turning, I swipe my tablet off my desk and head toward the boardroom. Fuck my emails. They can wait. I need a few moments to calm down.

But later, when I get Paige alone, I will lay down some very strict ground rules she has to understand and abide by if she wants our little agreement to continue.

I do not mess around with two women at the same time. Ever. That means that my body will be at her disposal and hers only during our agreement.

Stomping my way into the boardroom, I sit in the same chair I always sit in.

Seething.

I’m giving Paige that courtesy, and if she wants me—
my
body,
my
tongue,
my
cock inside her—then she’s going to damn well give the same courtesy to me.

six

Paige

Elijah glares at me from the moment I walk into the boardroom.

This isn’t a regular glare, either.

It’s subtle. Contained.

Yet I feel the danger of it so acutely, as if he’s a livewire of pure aggression, waiting to go off on me.

But why? What did I do?

I’ve seen Elijah worked up a time or two, but never like this, his jaw clenched so tight that the hollows beneath his cheeks are more pronounced. His dark brows tense. His even darker eyes stare at me from beneath those brows, promising me a whole lot of . . . Well, I don’t know what, but whatever it is, it’s violent.

His eyes turn black every time he gets angry. Just like they do when he’s turned on.

Shaking, I fall into my seat. The one across from him.

He remains completely still, those eyes boring into mine as the other employees file in.

Wet. I’m so freaking wet.

His nostrils flare slightly. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away. His entire focus is glued on me.

My heart beat skips, then falls right into my womb, hollowing me out completely. For a split second, I lose all control, my thighs pressing together, my teeth dragging across my bottom lip . . .

His nostrils flare again, and the anger vanishes, replaced by that heat I spent all weekend fantasizing about. When I see his fist tighten around his pen, I feel more wetness gush onto my lace underwear.

The lace underwear my cousin Lana convinced me to buy.

For him.

Gilliane comes in, heading for her seat at the front of the table.

Zach takes a seat in the only available chair.

Next to me.

Elijah’s eyes snap to Zach and then back to mine and that simmering anger returns. He leans back in his seat, as if he’s daring me to do something.

What the hell is going on?

Gilliane starts the meeting, giving us a quick speech about how exciting this all is for the company and what the success of the second tablet will mean for us. I try to pay attention. Honestly, I do.

Of their own volition, my eyes flicker to Elijah.

That stare hasn’t moved one bit. While the rest of the employees have all turned in their seats to face Gilliane, Elijah remains facing
me
.

Still as a statue. Still glaring.

What’s wrong with him? He was perfectly alright when he went to see me in my office.

Zach moves in his chair, his arm accidentally bumping mine.

At least, I believe it was accidental, but then Zach turns enough to wink one green eye at me, and faces the front again.

Elijah’s beautiful, harsh face doesn’t change at all, except for the subtle rise of one eyebrow.

That dare again. But what is he daring me to do?

My heart trips over itself on it’s next beat. His ire is so powerful, it surprises me that I’m the only one in the room who feels it.

God, I feel it. I’ve never been one for anger, hate dealing with other people when they’re in that state. It always makes me uncomfortable.

Not with Elijah, though. No. The energy I sense coming off him drives me a little crazier with each second that passes, the inner burn almost making it impossible for me to remain seated.

I want to have sex with him like that. Want him naked, large between my legs, that ruthless expression aimed at me as he takes me.

Oh God.
For all my talk of sexual freedom, and breaking free from my parents and past,
blah blah blah
, I’ve never had an orgasm. The bravery needed to play with myself escapes me. After Elijah’s kisses on Friday, the need to come has burrowed deeper than ever, eating at my common sense.

More than once, I almost worked up the courage to do it myself over the weekend.

More than once, I almost text him and begged him to come over and give it to me.

Right now, I’m ready to climb over the freaking boardroom table and
take
it from him.

“I can’t even begin to tell you guys how much I appreciate all the hard work you’ve been putting into this. We’re going to do big, big things this year.” Gilliane claps her hands together. “I can’t wait to see the prototype of the new tablet. On that note, I won’t keep any of you any longer. Out you go.” She smiles at everyone good-naturedly, earning a few laughs.

That’s it? The meeting finished? I don’t remember a single thing that was said because I didn’t pay attention.

I
always
pay attention. It’s imperative to my doing a good job!

Elijah shoots out of his seat and out of the boardroom, without sparing me another glance.

After he just spent the entire meeting glaring me down like he was ready to cause some violence.

I feel the sexual frustration turn in on me, becoming it’s own special type of demon.

Oooo
. That man. I don’t know what crawled up his ass, but I’m more than ready to smack it out of him.

I’m ready to pull on that dark red tie he’s wearing, and rip that light gray dress shirt right off him.

Goddamn it!

Fighting to hold my reaction in check, I pick up my tablet and notepad.

My empty notepad.

I always, always take notes during meetings.

That’s it. It’s happened. I’m ready to kill the bastard.

Oh, he’s angry?
I think, rushing toward my office. I’ll show him angry. That jerk doesn’t know me. I can work the angry like nobody’s business. After all, I have years of it pent-up inside me, always looking for an outlet.

Boy doesn’t know what’s coming to him. No one gets in the way of me taking notes!

I pointedly ignore the fact that it’s really the lack of orgasms—and not the lack of notes—that have me so worked up as I walk past Elijah’s office and into my own.

He watches me the whole way. I don’t know this because I deem him worthy of a single glance. Nope. I know it because that hot stare penetrates every layer of clothing on my body, touching every vulnerable, achy, pissed off place on me.

I drop my things on the desk and plop down into my chair.

Work. That’s what matters. What always matters, and I’m going to get back to it. I’ll use it to forget all about the driving need pounding between my legs.

Elijah can go fuck himself for all I care.

I almost crack my mouse in half squeezing down on it as the visual hits me full-frontal, proving what a liar I am.

I do care if he fucks himself. Very, very much.

I want to be there, watching that big hand of his working the length of him.

God. What on Earth is he turning me into?

. . .

Elijah gets called away to do something for Gilliane and isn’t around when lunch time comes. Not that I expect him to come get me for lunch anyway.

Whatever. I eat at my desk like I usually do, working through lunch, funneling every ounce of frustration into getting my work done. And I do, on point as always, working off Elijah’s previous sketches and adding my own ideas to the outer design of the tablet.

Except that, no matter how much I power through, the work isn’t enough to dull the ache.

And I can’t stop thinking about that asshole, even though he spends the entire day out of the office.

He returns at a quarter after five, shortly before the workday is supposed to finish.

Not for us. Never us. He, Gilliane, Nick, and I usually don’t leave until after eight.

Elijah pauses at my door. I ignore him, feeling his presence like a hot, annoying weight at my back. “Paige—”

He’s interrupted by Gilliane calling his name.

I don’t acknowledge him, don’t even turn in his direction. I just keep my focus firmly on the screen.

He sighs before he walks away.

So what? He’s had a few hours to calm the hell down, forget whatever was bugging him, and now he wants to seek me out?

Resisting the urge to find him and poke his eyes out with my stylus, I wrestle my  mind back into my work. Dimly, I recognize the sounds of people leaving for the day, calling out their good nights. I don’t raise my head, nor respond to any of them, but when Gilliane walks by my office and says goodnight, I make myself acknowledge her.

As soon as she turns to leave, my vision slams into Elijah. He’s standing at the door to his office, watching me with that quiet intensity.

I have trouble choking out a good night for Gilliane.

We stay like that after Gilliane’s gone; me in my seat, and Elijah staring at me with all that leashed aggression.

In response, I send him some aggression of my own, not bothering to hide how annoyed with him I am.

He takes a step in my direction.

Oh, hell no. Spinning in my chair, I grab the first stack of papers I find on my desk, desperate for an excuse to escape my office.

He gets to my door at the same time I do.

“I need to go to the file room. Move.”

“We need to talk.” There’s no softness in his tone. Not even a hint of an apology. Just a buttload of all that hardness.

He keeps treating me like I did something wrong, when damn it, I didn’t.

And the worse part of it all?

All I want to do is drag him toward me and hump any part of him that I can until I come all over him.

So, naturally, I hit him right in the chest with the stack of papers and push him out of way. “I have nothing I want to discuss with you.” Sure, I want him and everything he can physically do for me. Sure, I agreed to let him be my first with no strings attached.

But I sure as hell have no plans of sticking to that agreement if he can’t at least be
nice
to me.