NSFW Page 9

  Correction. Our hands.

  My fingers brushed my slick flesh and holy shit—

  Avery groaned. “You’re dripping. Right through this lace. Fuck, that’s perfect.” His voice was gravel, his gaze pinning me in place.

  His presence was more than I could take, but when he dragged my fingers over my clit, forced my hips to buck toward him…

  “This is what you wanted. When you were riding that bull, daring me to do something about it,” he murmured.

  It was my fingers wet from my arousal, that were lighting up the nerves in my skin.

  But it was him touching me. Him turning me on.

  I was beyond making sense of this, but also beyond doing anything but feeling.

  Craving.

  “You wished you were at home, rubbing one out. Taking care of the ache.” His voice was as dark and seductive as his words. “Tell me you think of me when you do that. Because I sure as hell think of you.”

  I could’ve left at any moment. Could’ve said no, slipped past him and out the door. He wouldn’t have stopped me. But I wasn’t ready to run.

  My other hand reached out, fingers twisting around a button of his shirt. I arched my hips, my eyes falling shut.

  He moved my fingers lower, and I didn’t resist. Couldn’t. My fingertips teased my opening, the place I felt so empty, and I moaned.

  His wicked scent did things to my head, until I wanted to grab him. Sink my nails into his skin and rake them down. Mark him as mine, this as ours.

  He knew the moment I switched from following to leading. I could tell from the noise in his throat. When my fingers slipped inside with the tiniest encouragement from him. My thumb rubbed a slow circle over my clit that had me gasping.

  I couldn’t stop. His hard body, close enough to touch. His dark smell, taking over my brain. Fuck it. Holding onto his shirt wasn’t enough. My arm reached up, pulled him closer. Tightened on the muscles of his neck. My breath hitched and I sucked in his air, his mouth an inch from mine. He turned away, his mouth brushing my neck with an open-mouthed kiss. But the tension in his body said this wasn’t as easy as he wanted it to look.

  “That’s so hot.” He murmured it against the shell of my ear like an afterthought. His touch trapped my hand between his warm skin and my desperate body. All of it added to the storm inside me.

  Avery started to pull his hand back but I grabbed his arm. Held it there.

  He didn’t touch me where I was wet, but his hand never left mine. Traced the back of my fingers. I felt the wetness coat both of us and it was hot as hell.

  It was impossible, but the tremors going through my body meant I was getting there.

  There.

  That sweet, incomparable place that lets you forget your life for a few moments. Minutes.

  “Avery,” I panted.

  “Yeah.”

  “This is not a spectator sport.”

  My gaze fought his. Finally he groaned, relenting.

  His shoulders came closer as his hand slipped past mine. He slid a finger inside me and I cried out.

  My fingers rubbed furious circles on my clit as he worked in and out of me. His low grunts added encouragement. A second finger pressed inside me, and I groaned his name.

  I was ten seconds from reaching nirvana thanks to my boss’s dirty words, and his relentless fucking hand.

  My breath came in little pants as my head fell back against the door. Avery’s breath was heavy in my ear. “Tell me when.”

  “Now. Oh, shit, now.”

  I fell over the edge, crying out as I came against his—and my—hand. The tremors rocked me, starting at my core and extending through my limbs.

  My back hurt from the hard wood door, my jaw ached from tension, and my fingers were cramped from…

  Well. Yeah.

  None of it mattered. The feeling tearing through me had rendered the rest irrelevant as I panted, trying to catch my breath.

  Both our hands were still down my pants. When he pulled back his hand, brushing my clit on the way, I jumped.

  His gaze locked with mine, and it started a whole new wave of sensation. His hair fell over his face, lips parted. The man looked like he’d just run a marathon in a suit.

  The dark eyes a million miles deep were familiar. But there was something new in Avery’s face.

  Yeah, this didn’t exactly go down like I’d planned either.

  It was better. Somehow he’d just made me come, and all I could think about was demanding he do it again.

  Or maybe returning the favor…

  “Anyone in there?”

  This time the vibration was through my back.

  Fuck, didn’t we lock this?

  Apparently not.

  The door burst in. Avery’s hard body braced my fall, his arm wrapping around me on instinct as I lost my balance. The group of girls laughed drunkenly as they took in the situation.

  “Get a room,” one of them whined.

  I slammed the door again. When I turned back, he was washing his hands at the sink. Drying them on paper towel. His gaze met mine in the mirror, and this time it was almost normal.

  Avery turned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You should go home, Charlotte. I’ll finish with the clients.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” He straightened his tie.

  I wanted to ask him where the hell this side of him had come from. I wanted to flip the lock and beg him to keep going.

  Avery jerked the door open and started down the hall, the line of women parting so he could pass. Most of them turned to watch him go.

  “Avery Banks,” I called, oblivious to the other people in the way.

  He turned back, raising a brow over the top of the crowd.

  I cocked my head. “Call me?”

  Avery shook his head in exasperation, but I could’ve sworn the corner of his mouth twitched.

  I watched him disappear, adjusting his cuffs on the way.

  “Are you done yet?” the girl at the front of the line demanded.

  “One sec.”

  I slammed the door behind me, locking out the chorus of boos from the line of people.

  I took a moment to do something I might’ve forgotten how to do.

  Breathe.

  13

  One Taste Is Never Enough

  “Yes, this is Charlie.” I strained to hear my phone over the noise of traffic on my way into work. “What? No. You’re fucking with me.” I hung up and stumbled up the sidewalk to Alliance, ducking in the front doors. My heels clacked on the floor as I barreled over the marble. I dashed into the elevators as the doors closed.

  The gala team meeting was already underway by the time I tripped in the door.

  “Charlie, does the venue have all the specs for the band?”

  “So about that. I spent an hour on the phone with the quartet’s manager earlier this week. But he called this morning to cancel.”

  “What?”

  “The first violinist has pneumonia. I asked if they could swap in someone else—” Mallory’s eyes widened “—but I can tell by your face that’s not a thing.”

  “Of everything we had to do this week,” she burst out, pointing at a chart on the wall, “that was the most important. It doesn’t matter what color the napkins are if there’s no entertainment. Are they supposed to stand around talking to each other all night?”

  I wanted to say, It’s completely ridiculous to be focused on throwing a party when the corporate banking department might not exist this time next year. I bet that would’ve set them back.

  But I couldn’t say anything.

  I forced myself to take a breath. “Come on. I’m sure they’re not the only entertainment in the city.” I flipped open my phone and started browsing. Mallory hovered over my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a replacement.”

  “You’re checking your Twitter!” She seemed ready to explode.

  “This is how I look f
or a replacement.” I tapped the phone. “Social media. YouTube. I mean…how do you find people?”

  I searched the faces in the room.

  “Agencies,” one of the guys offered.

  “Maybe that’s the problem.” I set my phone on the conference table and shifted forward. “See, the media backlash is that we have a bunch of rich, entitled assholes who aren’t real people running the place. Putting a string quartet in front of an audience doesn’t scream relatable.”

  Something pinged in the back of my mind. I snatched up the phone again and hit a few buttons.

  “What about her?”

  My colleagues crowded around to watch the clip.

  “She’s a comedian.”

  “Did she just say ‘vagina’?”

  “Is she a lesbian?”

  “I’ve seen her,” I offered. “She’s great.”

  Mallory scoffed. “We’re a bank.”

  “Right. And our clients are real people. Real people like to laugh.”

  Mallory pulled herself up to her full height. “Our brand is serious. Avery obviously read my request for help as desperation. I’m not this desperate.”

  I shifted back in my seat, deflated, as the video ended.

  She didn’t mean the comic. She meant me.

  It shouldn’t matter, because this wasn’t even my job. I was pinch hitting for someone more qualified to order cocktails or whatever the hell PR-types did.

  I shoved out of my chair. “You’re right. I don’t belong here. I’ll go back to printing those double-sided nametags. God forbid some old white guy forgets some other old white guy’s name because he got too aggressive on the dance floor and flipped his.”

  “Wait,” Mallory called. I paused by the door. “Did you run that speech by your boss yet? I emailed it to you yesterday, but here’s a hard copy.” She stuffed it in my hand.

  I spun on my heel without saying another word.

  I deliberately avoided our office, heading straight for the elevator. I wasn’t ready to face Avery yet today. Last night had been intense. And hot as hell.

  But really, how cliché was it that I’d hooked up with my boss in the bathroom?

  Not that I should be embarrassed. He wasn’t disinterested. In Redpath’s closet, the man had been ten inches of interested, and—

  Oof.

  Hands steadied me as I collided with someone exiting the elevator.

  “You should need a license for those,” Avery grumbled, glancing down at my heels. “Do you ever watch where you’re going or just assume the world will move?”

  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away. This entire company, starting with Mallory, is about to die of intellectual inbreeding.”

  I stepped into the elevator, stabbing at the button. It didn’t light up the first time, so I hit it again. And again.

  “Is that for me?” he asked, nodding to the file in my hands.

  “Your speech. Your wardrobe. Your teeth whitening regimen for the next week.”

  He lifted the folder from my clenched hands. Scanned the file absently. “American flag pin. How patriotic.”

  I let out a grunt as the elevator descended.

  It felt too small. Another three people joined on lower floors, and it was all I could do not to lunge for the exit when the doors dinged open at the lobby. My heels clicked on the floor in a hurried staccato as I bolted for the front doors. I felt him at my back and tried to ignore it.

  The air outside wasn’t as refreshing as I’d hoped. The heat wave still hadn’t broken. I lifted the hem of my shirt, fanning myself with it.

  I took a seat on the ledge surrounding the gardens at the front of the building. I stared out toward the street, the rush of midday traffic, as he continued to read.

  “Will you at least sit down? You’re freaking me out with your hovering.”

  He did, not bothering to look up. “So this speech. Did you read it?”

  “I skimmed it.”

  “And?”

  “It’s corporate garbage.”

  Avery held out the folder. “How would you change it.”

  “What?” I stumbled on his request.

  “If you don’t like it, give me something better.”

  I folded my arms, feeling awkward under his steady gaze. It took me a minute to shift out of defensive mode. “Well. There are a lot of good people who work here. They’re the ones looking after clients’ interests. And that’s what clients need to see. People they can relate to.”

  I reached inside his jacket, ignoring his raised eyebrows when I lifted a pen from the breast pocket. I bent over the file. “You need to be sincere.” I made some notes.

  He frowned, pointing to a spot on the page. “Yeah, I’m not saying that.” He took the pen back and crossed out the last thing I’d written. But the amazing part was that he left the rest.

  We finished going through the three pages. “What do you think?” I asked, surprised to realize that it mattered.

  “It’s better,” he said. “Makes us sound like we’re real people. The kind that wouldn’t turn around and tell on their colleagues.”

  My mind flew to Payton. “You mean that.”

  “Mhmm. You’re right. There’s no reason management needs to know. As long as she tells them with enough notice to cover for her.”

  “I’m really glad to hear that.” The grin that spread across my face was unstoppable.

  Avery blinked at me, like he was momentarily stunned before regaining his focus. “Right. You’ll also be glad to know Litchfield is coming to the gala.”

  I grabbed his sleeve. “Did they sign on?”

  “They did.” We shared a smile until I remembered the reason I’d come down here in the first place.

  “Fuck. There’s a minor wrinkle.”

  Avery shifted back, setting the folder between us. “What kind of wrinkle.”

  I told him about the band bailing. To my surprise, he listened without interrupting.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve fucked it all up.”

  Avery studied me. “The first time I saw you, I was a junior associate and you were bringing coffee from Starbucks into a meeting. My uncle told you you’d done his order wrong. I knew you hadn’t, that it’s a game he plays for whatever reason.

  “The thing was, you knew that too. I followed you to the kitchen where you switched it for one of the three other coffees you’d ordered in reserve. Then spent the next five minutes on your phone so you weren’t back too quickly.”

  His voice had my skin tingling. “I can’t believe you remember that. And that you didn’t turn me in.”

  “Are you kidding? I was infatuated.”

  “Because I switched out a coffee.”

  “Because you handled yourself so easily. Refused to be intimidated. Dove in headfirst.”

  He’d confessed to the attraction between us. But this felt like more. I’d never thought he noticed what I did, not to mention respected it.

  I’m not the blushing kind, but the hint of admiration in his tone had color rising in my cheeks.

  “OK, well…I think we should use this as a chance to do something fresh.”

  “Fresh,” he repeated.

  I showed him the video, studying his face. “I know you’ll hate it, but—”

  “She’s good.”

  “Really.” I stared at him in amazement. “I didn’t think you’d like stand-up.”

  “I know how to laugh.” I raised a brow. “I do,” he insisted.

  “Just not at yourself.”

  “Who’s going to take you seriously if not yourself?”

  “Who’s going to laugh at you if not yourself?” I retorted.

  “Everyone,” he said decisively. “Those comics have my total respect. I can’t imagine getting up in front of a room and inviting people to laugh at you.”

  “But you think it’s a good idea for the gala.�
�

  He fixed his cufflinks. “It has potential.”

  “Even if I took this back to Mallory, there’s no way she’d go for it.”

  “Call another meeting after lunch with the team. We’ll discuss it.”

  “OK. Thanks.”

  Avery’s knee bumped mine as he shifted to tuck the folder under his arm. He dropped the pen, and we both bent to pick it up.

  All it took was the heat racing up my spine.

  We rose at the same time, our gazes locking. Any humor fell away. Left awareness in its place.

  About last night…

  When you got me off with those dirty words and dirty hands…

  When you left me wanting more…

  Someone walked past us holding an ice cream cone. The sun suddenly felt even hotter on my skin.

  “That looks really good right now,” I murmured, relieved by the excuse to look away. “You want one?”

  “No.” Avery’s voice was firm.

  “How can you not like ice cream?”

  “Liking it isn’t the problem,” he said under his breath. “It’s that one taste is never enough. After the first time…” His deep blue gaze found mine. Pinned me to the spot. “You can’t stop.”

  Avery held the door and I walked through it. The air conditioning hit me like a wave, but it was too late. I’d already melted again.

  14

  Mutual Destruction

  “We need to decide on a new act. Here are some options from the usual suspects.” Mallory slid a piece of paper across the table.

  Five sets of eyes rested on the man who lifted the sheet. Read it. Let out a sigh that bordered on a groan.

  He might not have been the oldest one in the room—Mallory had a few years on him—but it was clear his was the voice that mattered.

  “What if the usual suspects are the problem,” Avery said, dropping the paper to drift back to the table top.

  “Excuse me?” Mallory stared back at him.

  Avery shifted. “Clients are losing faith. We don’t need to show them we’re infallible. We need to show them we’re competent. But also human.”

  “That’s a very different direction.”

  Avery had lifted the sheet again, turned it over. “What about the comedian option? I don’t see that here.”