Chapter 30
YASMINE
Cole remains quiet as I take the seat next to him, raking his fingers through his hair nervously. I’ve imagined running my hands through his dark locks again in exactly the same way I did the night we spent together that made him shudder and groan in pleasure.
“I thought I’d catch you before I leave,” I tell the man I never thought I’d set foot in the same room with again. Now I’m with him, I want to stay and cancel all my meetings this afternoon. Screw work.
Yasmine, you have bills to pay. Get back to work.
My voice of reason chimes in with a valid point when all I really want to do is play hooky with Cole all afternoon. Between the sheets would be even better but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Knowing what I do now, I feel terrible about running away from him at the club that night.
Had I known he’d lost my number I would have stayed, but my stubbornness got the better of me.
My ego had been chipped away at too; I was positive he would call and when he didn’t I made assumptions about the type of person he was.
I don’t mind admitting I was wrong about him, because I was.
He wasn’t using me for sex, and it turns out he likes me. A lot.
He even took a punch to his gorgeous face, placed a Missed Connections advert, and tried his darndest to find me.
I can’t believe I missed the bigger picture and how badly I misread the situation.
Cole smirks, and, sounding coy, he says, “I thought you’d leave without saying goodbye.”
I would never do that. “I’m a professional. Whatever happened between us has nothing to do with my job.”
“Happened? Past tense.”
“What?” I ask, bamboozled.
“You say, whatever happened between us. Are we already moving on?”
“I think for the sake of this project, we have to.” Which is shit, but my boss will never allow it.
He lifts his jaw, projecting a cocky arrogance, then rubs his chin covered in impeccably groomed scruff.
The whole look gives off effortless vibes, but I bet it takes a lot of work to achieve.
Thoughtfully, he muses, “So this is the part where you tell me your employment contract has a clause in it outlining no fraternizing with contractors or employees, blah blah blah.” He rolls his eyes, then makes a yapping hand with his fingers.
He’s funny and I love how the contrast of what he does for a living contradicts his playful self at times.
“I don’t own the company or make the rules up, Cole.” That’s the truth.
“Well, isn’t that a damn shame.” He shoots me a dazzling, pantie-soaking smile, his teeth strikingly white against his tan skin. He’s far too good-looking for his own good. I cannot tear my eyes off him. “I’d be asking you out on a date tonight otherwise.”
I would love nothing more than that. “And I would tell you I was busy.”
“Sure you would.”
“I would,” I say, feigning confidence, squaring my shoulders.
“You’re a shitty liar.”
“I am not lying.” I am. FusionTech aside, I would jump at the chance. But I can’t. Screw you, professional code of ethics.
“Keep telling yourself that, and you might start believing it.”
I hate that he saw right through me. I’m more transparent than a windowpane.
“So…” I start, but don’t know what to say next. I’m not one to fumble over my words, but here I am, tongue-tied, unable to form words because he makes my brain go into a meltdown.
It’s as if he has this hold over me.
I clear my throat and try again. “So, the girl you were talking to earlier, by the coffee station.” I point to the spot where they were standing.
“What about her?” he asks, looking amused.
“Just checking, you know, that there’s nothing going on.” They looked very cozy together, laughing and joking, and it turned my stomach to the point I felt squeamish.
“Why?”
“No reason.” There are several, but none I can voice. Jealousy, envy, longing, pain, insecurity, the knot in my stomach… I could go on, but I keep those to myself.
Cole leans forward and eyes me suspiciously. “Let me get this straight. You just explained to me that nothing can happen between us, and yet you’re asking about someone I was speaking to over by the coffee station?” He pauses for a beat, thinking. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not.” I lie. I’m greener than Elphaba from Wicked and practically glowing a neon-emerald shade.
“She’s a colleague and a good friend.” He chuckles darkly. “Also, she’s gay,” he adds, then casually rests his back on his chair.
That doesn’t make me feel any better because she has this whole 1950s pin-up look about her, mixed with a sexy librarian vibe; she’s beautiful.
“I told her all about you before today. She knows who you are to me. It was actually Libby who suggested I join Wildcard.”
That turns my jealousy level from a ten down to zero.
“Oh.” I’m speechless.
I’d love to know how she found out about Wildcard because it’s so cool that people are talking about my app, but that will have to wait for another day. It’s not important right now.
“What time will I pick you up for dinner tonight then?” Cole goes straight for the jugular.
“I… We… erm…”
“When I asked you to spend the night with me, you didn’t hesitate.”
I gasp, a wave of heat rushing through me, remembering every incredible detail of our time together. “That was—”
“A fucking great night.” He grins wickedly, accentuating his incredible cheekbones that make me melt in my seat like a puddle of hot butter in a pan.
That’s not what I was going to say, but also, I can’t disagree with him either. It was the best sex of my life, and no one will ever compare.
I look around, lowering my voice and scold him. “Someone might hear.” I give him a look of disapproval.
“No one is paying attention.” He dismisses my worry, chuckling to himself.
It’s just as well, or anyone nearby would hear how much of a hussy I am. I spent the night with a stranger. Not that he’s a stranger anymore, far from it, but at the time he was.
“Flown anywhere lately?” He throws in a curveball conversation changer.
I shake my head. “No. And nothing planned for the future.”
“That’s a pity, I was going to offer to be your flying buddy from now on.”
I motion to the space between us, annoyed that he doesn’t seem to be getting the message. “This. Us. We. Can’t happen.” I slice my hand through the air in finality.
“We’ll see.”
“There’s nothing to see,” I bite back.
“Can I have your number?”
“What, just so you can lose it again?” I tease. I’m mocking him, and he knows it.
Leaning forward again, Cole lays his hand out flat. “C’mon.” He does a gimme gesture, determination written all over his face, with no intention of letting me leave without it.
“You’re so annoying,” I say, not meaning it, secretly loving how persistent he is as I dip my hand into my purse to locate my details, for work, obviously.
“I might be annoying but I’m also great in bed.
But you know that already.” He leans even closer just as I look up, now almost nose to nose with him.
He’s uncomfortably close for the situation we are in, because all it does is make me recall the intense passion that raged between us from that night, making me wiggle in my seat to relieve the tension building between my thighs.
“You’re thinking about that night,” he whispers, his gaze dropping to my lips.
“I’m not.” I am. I gulp loudly.
“That’s twice now that you’ve lied to me.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Or you.
” He moves closer still, his mouth finding the shell of my ear, behind the curtain of my hair, then drops his voice to barely anything.
“And when I jerk off, it’s your tight pussy I’m imagining wrapped around my cock. ”
My face burns as I remember how he roared my name as he came, the dirty talk, his tattoos, and how he made me come so hard I saw stars flash behind my eyes. I swear I blacked out at one point.
I clear my throat, putting some distance between us. If I don’t I might jump his bones right here, right now, in front of everyone. “You’re not playing fair.”
“Fuck your code of ethics, Yasmine. I want you.”
He might play to win, but we can’t. “I’ll lose my job.”
“You won’t.”
I sigh and look away, shaking my head in quiet disbelief. “Business only.” My fingers pinch the piece of card I was looking for in my purse, then I pass it to him.
“Your business card?” He eyes it suspiciously, almost disgusted I would even suggest such a thing.
“That’s the only number you need.” I stand up, getting ready to leave, pushing the handle of my purse up my arm, then over my shoulder. “If you have any questions, please email me or contact my assistant.”
He scoffs, as if to say, That’s not happening. But it’s the only way.
“So if I need to ask you out for dinner, do I have to contact your assistant?” he asks cynically.
“Work questions only,” I state firmly.
“We’ll see.”
God, he’s infuriating.
But it’s kinda hot how much he’s pushing to see me again.
If he’s not careful, I might just give in.