Chapter Thirteen
Josh
“Sorry,” I say. “I was aiming for a bee.”
Chad blanches, jumps like he just stepped on a thumbtack. “Holy shit, where?”
“Right behind you.”
“Fuck!” Chad slaps the back of his skull, then hops around without checking to see if I’m telling the truth.
Klein stares at him like he’s lost his mind. I just let him make an idiot of himself. That’s what he deserves for saying all that shit to her. I didn’t hear the entire exchange, but what I did hear was enough to make me fantasize about breaking his nose again.
What gave him the nerve to come and harass Klein? Can he not smell the acrid smoke in the air? Or see the remnants of the building behind her?
My heart was hammering as I drove here. It’s still beating fast, even though I can see with my own eyes that Klein’s standing on her own two feet, no blood, nothing broken. The scene reminds me of my nightmares, where I can’t save Ares in the burning cabin.
If Chad possessed even a tiny bit of decency, he’d show some sympathy, even if he had just cause to be upset with her.
But obviously the finer emotions are beyond a two-faced asshole like him.
Even if she said she was in love with him for some reason, I’d never let her be with a guy like him. He doesn’t deserve her.
“That bee must really like you. It’s going right for your neck,” I call out.
Screaming, he covers his neck then hops into his car and drives away like Satan’s coming for his soul—assuming he has one. Loser.
Klein blinks as the Lexus swerves along the road. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s highly allergic to bees. We used to call him Chadaphylactic back in the day.”
She frowns. “But…there aren’t any bees around.”
“But there are some flies buzzing back and forth. I saw, and decided to use them. Hope he likes being tricked as much as he likes tricking others,” I say, narrowing my eyes with petty vindictiveness and satisfaction.
Klein laughs. The sound is as beautifully soft and direct as a lover’s caress, and something hot and volatile knots in my belly. I realize abruptly that I’ve never heard her laugh. She smiles a lot, but doesn’t laugh.
I want to hear her let loose again. Then kiss her happy, relaxed mouth. My head says that’s a bad idea, but the rest of me thinks it’s fucking fantastic.
“That’s karma for sure,” she says. “How do you know him so well? He isn’t your dentist, too, is he?”
I shudder. “No. I wouldn’t trust him with my worst enemy, much less my teeth. We went to the same high school. Met on the boxing team.”
“Ah… And that’s when you broke his nose,” she says, finally putting it together. She was probably too overwhelmed yesterday.
“Uh-huh.” I study her, from head to toe then back up. She doesn’t sound too bad. Was it just the phone making her sound weird earlier? No soot on her. Her curls are gloriously untamed and frame her face like a cloud of spun silver.
The T-shirt is worn, but looks surprisingly nice and comfy on her. The boxers are cute with heart prints. Her shoes don’t match, and my heart aches in sympathy. She must’ve been in such a panic. I’m surprised she didn’t fall during the evacuation and scrape her knees.
Klein flushes under my scrutiny and crosses her arms tighter, self-conscious. “I’m fine. I swear.”
“The burn?”
“Like I said earlier, nothing serious.” She shows me a Band-Aid on her wrist.
Okay. If that’s all the treatment the EMT gave her, then she really wasn’t that badly hurt.
“I probably sounded bad earlier because my throat was so dry,” she says.
Relief crashes over me. As the worry for her recedes, I start to notice other things.
The freshly scrubbed face with bright violet eyes and a soft, rosy mouth, the lips full and pillowy.
The long, pretty legs—I’ve never seen so much of them before, because at work she either wears skirts that end an inch above her knees or slacks.
The softness of her breasts presses against the shirt.
I can see the outline of her nipples, and suddenly my throat is parched.
She isn’t wearing a bra.
My blood heats, draining from my head to my dick.
For God’s sake, control yourself. She just had a major crisis.
Plus, it isn’t like I’ve never been around a braless woman.
My dates have shown up in clingy dresses with necklines so plunging, they couldn’t wear anything underneath, and I felt nothing but mild interest. But with Klein, it’s irresistibly erotic.
Her breasts are just big enough to fill my hands, and I can already imagine how they’d feel.
The tips of my ears grow hot, and I bite back a curse. She doesn’t need me to act like an immature teenager right now. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”
“Um… I guess I need a ride.”
“Is your car damaged?”
“No. But the fob’s…” She makes a poof motion. “I only grabbed my phone before leaving.”
“Good, although you shouldn’t have wasted time to grab it, either. The only thing that mattered was you getting out safely.”
“It was right next to me, on the nightstand.”
I take her to my Rolls and open the passenger door. She climbs in with softly murmured thanks and settles down. I shut the door and get behind the wheel. “Where to?” I start the engine.
She worries her lower lip with her teeth, making the pink flesh glisten. She doesn’t even know what that’s doing to me, which makes it even hotter. My cock’s most definitely perked up, and I shift to hide my reaction.
“Well, uh…” Awkward embarrassment fleets through her eyes as she looks at me. “I guess I should find a…a hotel or something.”
She doesn’t have anywhere to go. “Why don’t you stay with me?” I say as I maneuver the car into traffic.
Her eyes nearly bug out. “With you?”
She doesn’t have to make it sound like I’m a cannibal or something. “Yeah, with me. Not sure if you noticed, but that video from yesterday evening went viral.”
“Yeah, I heard. My best friend freaked out.”
I wait a beat, but she doesn’t continue.
Huh. She has no intention of revealing what her best friend said or what she herself thinks about it.
I’m dying to know what’s going on in her head—everything rolling around in her mind when she thinks about the video and what happened.
But most importantly, I want to hear her thoughts about me.
She always smiles at me with such sweetness, does little things that make my day brighter and my mood lighter—but then pulls away and draws a line of professional distance that says, “Thou shalt not cross.” She doesn’t seem to do that with anyone else in the office.
But then, she doesn’t gift them with the same brilliant, warm smile she has for me.
Or do anything special for them. What gives?
When I don’t say anything in response, she clears her throat. Her fingers nervously intertwine. “Sorry I got you tangled up in my mess. I’m sure having everyone know you’re ‘engaged’ to me isn’t something you wanted. I’m sorry—”
“Stop saying sorry.” Sorry isn’t what I want her to feel. Hot, happy, thrilled, aroused, excited, relieved—but not sorry. “It isn’t your mess, and you didn’t get me to do anything.”
“But if you hadn’t tried to help me—”
“No one put a gun to my head. I did it because I wanted to.”
“But you felt sorry for me, didn’t you?”
I stop the car at the red light, then glare at her. “Who put that nonsense into your head? Say I felt sorry for you again, and I’ll show you how I really feel by kissing you until you shut up.”
Her eyes widen, her mouth parting. Rose colors her cheeks, but I can’t tell if it’s from shock or horror.
Her violet gaze is like a deep pool, impossible to read.
She even stops fidgeting with her fingers.
Her little tongue darts out to lick her lips, and I feel the motion like she’s stroking my damn tongue. Fuck me.
“Uh…” She clears her throat. “You didn’t have to… I mean… You’re my boss.”
The reminder is like a bucket of cold water, but it doesn’t do much to settle me down. I run a hand over my face and let out a rough breath.
“That wasn’t appropriate,” I say, before Klein feels scandalized enough to contact HR. “But look. I don’t claim to be engaged to everyone I feel sorry for. I did it because—” Suddenly the words get stuck in my throat.
I sense her turning toward me. “Because…?”
My head says I shouldn’t, but my gut says fuck it. Listen to your heart, rather than your oversized head, an inner voice that sounds awfully like Dad advises.
I turn to look at her squarely. She’s staring at me, her eyes wide and guileless. Her breasts rise and fall gently, and the leather interior of the Rolls feels too full of her female sweetness.
She raises her eyebrows, urging me to finish. The car behind us honks as the light turns green.
“Because…” I swallow. The hell with it. “Because I like you.”