Nothing Personal (24 page)

Desiree found her attention wandering, jerked it back to the speaker again.
It was Alec who was doing it to her. Leaning back in his chair at the head of the table, one ankle crossed over the other knee, one hand lying casually across his thigh, the other hanging at his side. He seemed keyed up despite the relaxed posture, and when she looked more closely, she could see his fingers drumming a little on the dark fabric of his trousers.

She’d seen him in those pants before.
In fact, she’d taken those pants off him before. Just a few nights ago, on the pale area rug that covered the floor of his equally pale living room.

She’d unbuckled the
smooth black leather belt first, pushed its tongue slowly out of the nickel-plated loop, pulled it back to free the hole from its fastening prong, tugged with both hands to separate belt from buckle. And then had worked on his top button, pulled the zipper slowly down. She could almost feel the little metal tab she’d held delicately between her fingertips, the finely woven dark woolen fabric just barely abrasive where she’d grasped a handful to give her purchase.

But
that was only part of the memory that had her staring at the strong, clever hand resting on his thigh. It was mostly the fact that she’d been naked at the time. And kneeling at his feet.

She realized with a start that his fingers had stopped drumming, and that his eyes were fixed on her face, his expression intent. And now he didn’t look relaxed at all.

Probably wondering why she wasn’t paying
attention. She shoved away the awareness of the tingling in her breasts, between her legs, wriggled a little to settle herself into the plush leather chair, and turned her gaze resolutely to Mark, the sales manager for Advent PR, who was still droning away about his company’s proposed campaign to an audience of Alec, Joe, and Brandon. And, this time around, Desiree too.

Alec thought she could contribute
some insight to AI’s marketing efforts, she reminded herself, and that was both a compliment and an opportunity to expand her work horizons in a way she’d never anticipated. He wasn’t going to keep inviting her to these things if she couldn’t even focus, let alone contribute.

“
Everything you’ve talked about so far has been B to B,” she said when Mark had finally made his latest point. “Going to the consumer is going to be the challenge, though, in terms of cost-effectiveness. Do you have a plan for that?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he said, and she
smiled a little inside. Mark had taken Question-Answering 101, it was clear. He shuffled papers a bit, clicked ahead a few slides, and began the next topic. On which she
focused.

Until she felt the quick vibration of her phone
under her hand and realized she’d been stroking it, rubbing her fingers along the raised plastic edges of its case. And how embarrassing was that?

She glanced down at the screen, and froze.

You’re on this table tonight.

Her gaze flew
to his face, and he stared impassively back at her for a second, then back at Mark again. He’d scooted his chair in a bit, and she couldn’t see his hands anymore. Because they were under the table, texting her.

She could feel her heartbeat picking up, realized that her tongue had come out to moisten her lips
.

Damn
him. How was she supposed to pay attention now?

She couldn’t help it. She sneaked another peek. Raised her eyebrows a little at him. Picked
up her phone, scooted closer herself, and did her own stealthy thumb-typing.

You and what army?

She wasn’t even pretending to listen anymore. She was just waiting for the buzz against her palm.

No army. Just me.

Ha,
she texted back.
Think again.

I am thinking. Haven’t decided.

Startled, she shot another look at him. He was giving up that easily?

A smile barely touched one
corner of his mouth, then he was looking at Mark again. It was an endless minute before she felt the buzz.

Which way you’ll be facing.

And that was when she completely lost her focus.

She told herself that she was hanging around because she had a lot to do. Went through her list, item by meticulous item, checking each one neatly off as she completed it. Heard the big space outside slowly emptying, and couldn’t stop the drumming of her heart, or ignore the tingle that had long since become a steady thrum.

And still she didn’t hear anything, or see Alec. For all she knew, he could have left already.
He’d probably just been messing around today, passing the time. That
had
been a boring meeting.

She hadn’t said that, not exactly. But when
Mark had left and they’d all been sitting around the table afterwards, after Brandon had given his enthusiastic endorsement of his candidate and Alec had asked her what she’d thought, she’d been honest.

“It all lo
oked professional enough,” she said. “But if he’s the best they’ve got, and he couldn’t even hold my interest in this room, and I’m the client, what does that say about their ability to reach out and grab the prospect?”

“I a
gree,” Alec said, his face betraying absolutely nothing. “Anything that’s not grabbing you, Rae, isn’t good enough. And he couldn’t hold my interest either. I kept finding myself getting distracted.”

Which was all true enough, and
had probably meant no more than exactly what he’d said. Besides, they’d been nothing but careful in the office these past weeks, for the excellent reason that they needed to be. Their fantasies were just that, fantasies. And knowing he had the same ones she did . . . that was a nice thing to think about, on the nights he wasn’t with her, and that was all it was. So she should just
stop.

She was about to give it up and leave after all, the quiet c
onvincing her that everyone had gone. She and Alec hadn’t made any plans for tonight, she reminded herself sternly. She had no earthly reason to be disappointed just because he’d passed the time during a lackluster presentation by teasing her.

She jumped a little at the ringing of her desk phone, the sound harsh in the silence. Picked up the receiver before glancing at the illuminated display.

Conf Room

She cleared her throat. “Rae
Harlin.”

“Rae.” His
voice came out slightly tinny. She could picture him in there, leaning over to punch buttons on the speakerphone that stood in the center of the table. “Could you come in here a minute?”

“I’ll be right the
re,” she heard herself answer. Hung up the phone, logged off dutifully, shut the lid of her laptop. Stood up and went to her door, shut it behind her, and walked the thirty feet to the corner conference room.

She could see through the clear panel at the top of the frosted glass that made up the
interior wall that the light was on in there, although the door was closed. Was aware of the rectangles of light showing in irregular patches from the facing buildings. Other late-stayers finishing projects, working hard.

She didn’t knock. Just o
pened the door and stepped inside.

He was leaning against the credenza beneath
the windows, arms folded across his chest, white dress shirt still trim and tucked in perfectly. His sleeves rolled a few careful times, his ankles crossed, the picture of casual ease.

But his face wasn’t casual
, and his eyes were burning into her.

“Shut the door,” he said. “Lock it.”

She turned, twisted the knob to its horizontal position, and faced him again.

“Just how wet,” he asked
her, “did you get?”

She swallowed. Decided that
she was going to make him work for it.

“I don’t know
.” She looked back at him, kept her gaze steady. “I haven’t checked. Why don’t you see if you’re man enough to find out?”

He shoved off, uncrossed his arms. “
What a good idea.”

He came close, and she
raised her chin a little despite her best intentions, prepared herself to be kissed. But he didn’t do it. Instead, he grabbed her under her bottom and set her on the table. One hand dug into the twist of hair at the back of her head, and she could hear the
ping
as hairpins hit the polished surface of the table. With the other hand, he shoved her skirt up, then closed it around her thigh, just above the knee.

“I’m starting right here,” he said.
“Let’s see if you tell me first, or I find out for myself.”

Strong fingers
gripped the back of her head, held it in place for him, and he was finally kissing her. Starting out gently enough, his mouth teasing out a response, urging her to yield.

She wasn’t done
, though. She kept her mouth closed, held her knees together as best she could. If he wanted to play seduce-the-employee, she was going to make the game good.

He wasn’t havi
ng any of it. His tongue moved over her upper lip, then he was sucking her lower lip between both his own, pulling it inside, and her mouth was opening under his, and his tongue was in her mouth.

She got
a little distracted by the slow, thorough kisses that left her mouth tingling and swollen as he went on and on, still holding her head exactly where he wanted it, but she did manage to notice that his hand was pushing her narrow skirt further up her bare thighs, moving behind her to pull her to the very edge of the table, then grasping her leg again. Above her knee at first, stroking slowly up as he continued to kiss her, his thumb on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She felt herself shifting her weight as he got closer, willing him to move faster, to hurry up and get there. If he noticed, he didn’t show it, just took her mouth again and again until she could barely think, until all she could do was hang onto his shoulders and kiss him back.

He stepped back a pace at last.
Pulled her to stand again, got both hands under her skirt, lifted it up to her waist, and put her back on the table.

“S
pread your legs for me,” he told her.

And this time, she didn’t try to resist. She opened her thighs, welcomed him as he came to stand against her. Because she wanted to feel it, the press of him into her, only the fabric of her thong between the woolen fabric and her tender flesh.

And then he’d stopped kissing her, was pushing her onto her back, onto the hard surface, his hand still behind her head, keeping it from hitting the table. Her skirt was around her waist, and he had both hands around the waistband of the thong, was lifting her hips, pulling it down her legs, over the heels she still wore.

“Let’s have a look
,” he said, and if there was dark satisfaction in his voice, well, he’d earned it. He had a hand on each thigh, was opening her wide, almost to the point of discomfort. And she’d never felt so open, so vulnerable.

“The answer
is,” he told her, “very, very wet. The answer is that you’ve been waiting for this all day. And I’m going to give it to you right now.”

He was dropping down, out of her sight, leaving her
staring up at the expanse of white acoustical tiles, the long, narrow light fixture. Until she felt the touch of his tongue, and nearly climbed right off the table. After that, she wasn’t looking anymore, because she’d squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate on every delicious sensation. Slow, then faster. Stopping for a moment, then slow again. Harder, then softer. Never letting her rest. Never allowing her attention to wander even for a moment.

But there was more to come, because he had a finger inside her, then two, and was moving them in a rhythm that had her hips following along, and he was doing things to her with his mouth and tongue that had her past the point of moaning, where she could only express what s
he was feeling by crying out, louder and louder.

And i
f she’d been tender and tingling all afternoon, every bit of anticipation she’d experienced was paid off in one glorious rush of sensation, until she was bucking under his hand and mouth, her back arching against the hard wood. Keening, now, as wave after relentless wave slammed through her, hard and hot, and left her gasping.

She was still shaking when he rose
into her line of sight again. His hands closed under her hips, pulling her up tight against him, and then the hot pressure was filling her, the climb starting again.

She reached out blindly with both hands,
found the edge of the table behind her on either side, and held on as he moved inside her. Out so slowly, inch by careful inch, followed by a hard thrust that left her shaking. Over and over, and she was almost there, calling out again.

And then he
pulled out altogether, and she was reaching for him, opening her eyes. And begging.

“Alec . . . No. Please. Come back.”

His only answer was to reach under her lower back, pull her towards him. She stumbled in her heels when her feet hit the floor, but he still didn’t speak. Not until he had turned her so she was facing the table, and was pushing her down again.