“Are you stalking me now, Thorne?” I turned back around before I became dizzy, fell down, and embarrassed myself.
“You wish, Palmer. I’m headed home myself, and making sure you get home all right in your drunken state. Last thing I need is to be implicated because your drunk ass was last seen with me before you disappeared or wound up dead.”
“I can take care of myself; don’t worry your pretty little head.” I walked up to the door of the fifteen story luxury condo building I lived in. “Well, I’m home, so off you go.”
He followed me in anyway, and I lucked out that an elevator was waiting in the lobby. I waved hello to Mike, the night guard, and walked in. When I turned to press the button, Nathan was entering as well.
“Seriously, Thorne, you can go home now.”
He chuckled before leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I am going home.”
His statement hit my brain at the same time his scent did, and I staggered back. The man was the most powerful walking aphrodisiac.
His hand shot out to grab my arm, steadying me. I gasped at the contact; electric tingles coursed through, where his hand was and turned to fire between my legs when his grip tightened. I groaned to cover up my slip, but it might have come out as a moan instead.
“Do you really live here?” I whined, pleading to God that it wouldn’t be true.
“Fourteenth floor.”
The floor just below the top penthouse held not two, like most floors, but one large condo. Four bedrooms, four baths, much larger wrap around veranda, and way out of my price range.
“You’re telling me I can never get away from you?”
“What, you think because we live in the same building I’m going to come find you? Dream on, Palmer, you’re not that pretty.”
I flinched at his words, an involuntary reaction I’d never gotten over. I tried to keep the words from repeating, from drawing up others like it, but it was futile.
“I know that, ass**le.”
He chuckled, and then stopped once the words processed; his eyes wide. “Wait… What? You’re agreeing with me?”
“Of course I am. I’m not stupid,” I said, the words screaming in my mind. “I know I’m plain, boring and a workaholic…useless.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth. My drunken brain was revealing things I never wanted anyone to know, least of all him.
But the words remained. Repeating over and over like a broken record, until it was taking everything I had to keep them down. I was stronger than them.
“Lila?” he questioned.
I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t notice the use of my nickname.
“Sorry, I’m a depressed drunk.” I plastered a fake smile on my face. The elevator pinged, alerting me we’d arrived on the eleventh floor. “Have a good weekend.”
I waved, but didn’t give him time to respond or talk about my rant. I made my way down the hall and into my condo, flicking lights on as I moved through to my bedroom and to the bathroom. Standing at the mirror, I stared into a copy of the unique grey-green eyes that haunted me, and repeated my mantra, the one that always brought me back. It calmed me, but the memories started trickling through the cracks Nathan had unknowingly created.
I sank down to my knees, my fingers gripping the sink as I tried to glue the fissures back in place.
It was apparent Nathan could be my undoing.
It was midway through the next week, and it had been a long day. I was exhausted since I hadn’t slept much the last few nights, and we were still in the office working, even though it was almost ten in the evening. I struggled to keep hold of my verbal filter since my patience was almost non-existent at that point.
My eyes shifted over to him, and he was still reading the same document he’d been studying for the last half hour. My blood boiled, pumping through my body like a freight train.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Nathan!” I yelled in frustration at his slowed pace. “I would like to leave some time this century.”
His gaze snapped up and met mine, his eyes in slits. “Well, I do believe this is your f**king fault for telling Jack we could have all of these contracts done by Friday morning!”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t a f**king problem until you told Jennifer we would have her contracts for the Sampson takeover ready by Thursday!”
Jennifer Akins, aka Boob-Squad member number one, was president of the Nathan Thorne fan club. She came around flaunting her chest in front of him every single day, at any opportunity she could find. There were now twelve official members of his fan club, so Jennifer wasn’t the only distraction during the day, as each one of them filed in at some point.
“If you had informed me of your agreement with Jack, we wouldn’t still be here.”
“If you read your f**king email, you would have known.”
“You’re saying f**k a lot tonight, Delilah. Something on your mind?” He raised an eyebrow at me.
“Get your mind out of the fu—just get moving so we can leave, okay?”
He smirked at my slip, a look I’d become accustomed to because he loved to taunt me at every opportunity. I was surprised to watch his lips morph into a lazy smile, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. My gaze zeroed in as it glided over those perfect lips. The man was sex on a stick, and he knew it.
I eyed him sideways, trying not to give myself away. Sometime earlier in the evening, he’d taken his suit jacket off, loosened his tie, popped open the top buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. Why did he have to look that f**king good while sitting a few feet from me?
“With all the times you’ve said ‘fuck’ tonight, I think I know what you really want. What you need, Lila.”
“What is it that you think I need?” I was getting more pissed off, and, to my annoyance, aroused at the same time.
“Cock. You need a f**king hard c**k in your tight little pu**y.” He let out a ragged breath, eyes dilated.
My jaw dropped as I looked at him in disbelief. He was just playing with me, he had to be.
I quirked a brow at him, trying to portray calm and aloof, when inside I was tugging at my hair and fanning my face. “You’re an expert on what my pu**y needs?”
His eyes darkened as they looked me over, his fingers flexing in what appeared to be agitation on his desk. “Yes, and it needs a c**k to f**k it.”
“What makes you think this?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it wasn’t working. He was right, and his words were turning me on as much as the growing look of lust in his eyes.
“You wish, Palmer. I’m headed home myself, and making sure you get home all right in your drunken state. Last thing I need is to be implicated because your drunk ass was last seen with me before you disappeared or wound up dead.”
“I can take care of myself; don’t worry your pretty little head.” I walked up to the door of the fifteen story luxury condo building I lived in. “Well, I’m home, so off you go.”
He followed me in anyway, and I lucked out that an elevator was waiting in the lobby. I waved hello to Mike, the night guard, and walked in. When I turned to press the button, Nathan was entering as well.
“Seriously, Thorne, you can go home now.”
He chuckled before leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I am going home.”
His statement hit my brain at the same time his scent did, and I staggered back. The man was the most powerful walking aphrodisiac.
His hand shot out to grab my arm, steadying me. I gasped at the contact; electric tingles coursed through, where his hand was and turned to fire between my legs when his grip tightened. I groaned to cover up my slip, but it might have come out as a moan instead.
“Do you really live here?” I whined, pleading to God that it wouldn’t be true.
“Fourteenth floor.”
The floor just below the top penthouse held not two, like most floors, but one large condo. Four bedrooms, four baths, much larger wrap around veranda, and way out of my price range.
“You’re telling me I can never get away from you?”
“What, you think because we live in the same building I’m going to come find you? Dream on, Palmer, you’re not that pretty.”
I flinched at his words, an involuntary reaction I’d never gotten over. I tried to keep the words from repeating, from drawing up others like it, but it was futile.
“I know that, ass**le.”
He chuckled, and then stopped once the words processed; his eyes wide. “Wait… What? You’re agreeing with me?”
“Of course I am. I’m not stupid,” I said, the words screaming in my mind. “I know I’m plain, boring and a workaholic…useless.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth. My drunken brain was revealing things I never wanted anyone to know, least of all him.
But the words remained. Repeating over and over like a broken record, until it was taking everything I had to keep them down. I was stronger than them.
“Lila?” he questioned.
I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t notice the use of my nickname.
“Sorry, I’m a depressed drunk.” I plastered a fake smile on my face. The elevator pinged, alerting me we’d arrived on the eleventh floor. “Have a good weekend.”
I waved, but didn’t give him time to respond or talk about my rant. I made my way down the hall and into my condo, flicking lights on as I moved through to my bedroom and to the bathroom. Standing at the mirror, I stared into a copy of the unique grey-green eyes that haunted me, and repeated my mantra, the one that always brought me back. It calmed me, but the memories started trickling through the cracks Nathan had unknowingly created.
I sank down to my knees, my fingers gripping the sink as I tried to glue the fissures back in place.
It was apparent Nathan could be my undoing.
It was midway through the next week, and it had been a long day. I was exhausted since I hadn’t slept much the last few nights, and we were still in the office working, even though it was almost ten in the evening. I struggled to keep hold of my verbal filter since my patience was almost non-existent at that point.
My eyes shifted over to him, and he was still reading the same document he’d been studying for the last half hour. My blood boiled, pumping through my body like a freight train.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Nathan!” I yelled in frustration at his slowed pace. “I would like to leave some time this century.”
His gaze snapped up and met mine, his eyes in slits. “Well, I do believe this is your f**king fault for telling Jack we could have all of these contracts done by Friday morning!”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t a f**king problem until you told Jennifer we would have her contracts for the Sampson takeover ready by Thursday!”
Jennifer Akins, aka Boob-Squad member number one, was president of the Nathan Thorne fan club. She came around flaunting her chest in front of him every single day, at any opportunity she could find. There were now twelve official members of his fan club, so Jennifer wasn’t the only distraction during the day, as each one of them filed in at some point.
“If you had informed me of your agreement with Jack, we wouldn’t still be here.”
“If you read your f**king email, you would have known.”
“You’re saying f**k a lot tonight, Delilah. Something on your mind?” He raised an eyebrow at me.
“Get your mind out of the fu—just get moving so we can leave, okay?”
He smirked at my slip, a look I’d become accustomed to because he loved to taunt me at every opportunity. I was surprised to watch his lips morph into a lazy smile, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. My gaze zeroed in as it glided over those perfect lips. The man was sex on a stick, and he knew it.
I eyed him sideways, trying not to give myself away. Sometime earlier in the evening, he’d taken his suit jacket off, loosened his tie, popped open the top buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. Why did he have to look that f**king good while sitting a few feet from me?
“With all the times you’ve said ‘fuck’ tonight, I think I know what you really want. What you need, Lila.”
“What is it that you think I need?” I was getting more pissed off, and, to my annoyance, aroused at the same time.
“Cock. You need a f**king hard c**k in your tight little pu**y.” He let out a ragged breath, eyes dilated.
My jaw dropped as I looked at him in disbelief. He was just playing with me, he had to be.
I quirked a brow at him, trying to portray calm and aloof, when inside I was tugging at my hair and fanning my face. “You’re an expert on what my pu**y needs?”
His eyes darkened as they looked me over, his fingers flexing in what appeared to be agitation on his desk. “Yes, and it needs a c**k to f**k it.”
“What makes you think this?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it wasn’t working. He was right, and his words were turning me on as much as the growing look of lust in his eyes.
