Chapter 17
“Dirty Little Secret” - The All American Rejects
Maeve
Today feels like the day that refuses to end.
I’ve handled no less than four donor fiascos and spent an hour on a conference call I wasn’t needed on at all, thanks to my lovely father dominating the entire conversation.
Now I have to lead a HavenNet meeting with staff from both the Wilson Foundation and Luminara Tech that I’m completely unprepared for.
Part of it is due to my schedule, which is currently overflowing, but a larger part is due to a certain decision that was made last Friday night. A decision that will go down in the books as the worst one I’ve ever made and may single-handedly cause my destruction.
Who sleeps with their friends? Especially friends they can no longer tolerate being in the same room as?
I think we’re going to have to go with the plausible excuse that my brain grew legs, walked out of my head, and left me to fend for myself for the night.
I cannot think of any other explanation for having sex with Pierce. Not once, but twice.
God. I will never forgive myself as long as I live.
By some miracle, I haven’t seen Pierce since then. As soon as the aftereffects of my duo of orgasms wore off, I slunk away from his flat like some kind of high-priced call girl. Yes, I’m fully aware that I’ve hit rock bottom. We’re blaming it on some kind of mental breakdown, remember?
I told the others I caught a virus to get out of flying to Tokyo with them for the weekend, which peeves me to no end, because it’s been ages since I’ve had good unagi no kabayaki.
My only consolation is that Pierce probably wondered the whole time if he’d catch whatever I came down with.
But I’ll probably never know if he was tormented or not, since I have no intention of talking to the man ever again if I can help it, challenge be damned.
Shifting the files in my arms, I round the corner to the elevator and stop short. Pierce is leaning over Mrs. Rodriguez’s desk, laughing with my favorite receptionist. She is making moon eyes up at him.
I hate them both.
Three and a half days. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen him. In that time, I’ve used my vibrator no less than six times. Before you read into that, I’m ovulating right now, which always makes me hornier. Nothing to do with Pierce St. James.
His light gray suit and white shirt look as crisp as if he’s just pulled them from that spacious closet.
I don’t need to be next to him to imagine their luxurious scent.
His dark brown hair is styled impeccably as always—close shave on the sides, longer on top—and there’s just a hint of stubble coating his jaw, which I can still vividly feel scraping across my skin. The thought makes my face heat.
As if he senses my blush, he turns to look over his shoulder, spotting me. I narrow my eyes, just in case he thinks I’m pleased to see him, and march to the lift.
“Don’t you have a company to run?” I say as I walk past him. I don’t know why he’s always finding reasons to show up at the Wilson Foundation. That sensation racing up my spine—irritation, okay? Nothing else.
“Several of them, actually.” He catches up to me in one ridiculously long stride and enters the elevator before the doors can close.
“Then why are you here?” God help me if I get stuck in here with him again.
“For the meeting, what else?” His glibness is positively nauseating. Does he think I’m an idiot?
“How was Tokyo?” I say as the car descends.
Pierce shrugs. “Could’ve been better.”
I turn with a look of faux concern. “Oh no! Don’t tell me you got sick too.”
“You’re going to have to try harder than that.”
Keeping my eyes on the lift doors, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of an answer. That, and I have no idea what he’s talking about.
The elevator dings, and right before it opens, I hiss, “We’re not having sex again.”
He matches me stride for stride as I head to the large conference room on the ground floor. We’ve just rounded the corner when he smacks my ass. “We’ll see about that,” he says in my ear, squeezing before removing his hand.
I stop so fast, he doesn’t even realize it right away and keeps going. “How dare you?” I say as quietly as my rage will let me. There may not be as many offices down here, but there are still plenty of people who move up and down these corridors.
He considers me with his hands in his pockets, not a single trace of remorse on his face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I’m just trying to get to my meeting on time.
” He glances at the Rolex on his wrist. “In fact, I should be going.” Tossing a wink at me, he turns on his heel and walks away.
I’d report him to HR if I thought it would do any good. Well, that and if my panties weren’t suddenly so damp I’m debating slipping into the restroom to remove them before the meeting. But he’s right about the time, so I just follow him to the conference room.
Pierce is already seated as far as possible from my own seat, thank god. It isn’t until I’m five minutes into the agenda that I realize sitting at opposite ends of the table puts us in each other’s direct line of sight.
I start out by ignoring him, but my eyes keep straying despite my best efforts to look at anyone but him. At this rate, I’m going to cause severe strain. It appears he doesn’t have a care in the world, reclining in his chair and clicking his pen on and off. It’s absolutely infuriating.
The way his eyes flicker across my silk blouse tells me he’s not listening to a single word being said.
He’s undoing each of my buttons in his mind and envisioning exactly what he would do once he’d divested me of my top.
My traitorous nipples react as if he’s brushed his thumbs across them, and that heated gaze doesn’t feel much different.
I squirm in my seat, praying to anyone listening that nothing leaks through my skirt. God, I would die an early death if that were to happen.
We had sex. Big deal. It was once. Well, twice, if we’re being technical. If he thinks it’s happening again, he is about to be sorely disappointed.
This meeting has to be the longest in the history of mankind. I’ve never been so anxious to leave a room before. So anxious, in fact, that when I stand up from the table after we’re done, I spill my entire file onto the floor.
Several staff members pause on their way out, and one of the newer hires turns back to help me. I think his name is Kenneth?
“I got it,” I snap at him, not because I’m irritated at his assistance, but at myself for letting Pierce fuck with my head. My body was enough—does he need access to every part of me?
Kenneth? Keith? hurries from the room, and I finish sweeping the papers into a pile and shove them back into the folder. I’ll reorganize them later. Right now, I would kill for a glass of ice water and some fresh air.
I’m almost to the door when I see Pierce. He’s leaning against the wall, ankles crossed, watching me as usual. Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life in Groundhog Day?
When I’m within feet of escaping, he straightens and nudges the door shut with the toe of a leather loafer. “Not so fast.”
I desperately want to run, but I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot. He walks over to the large window facing the corridor and flicks the blinds close. My mouth goes bone dry as I watch him.
He turns back to me, then raps his knuckles on the conference table. “I’ve been envisioning laying you out across this thing for the better part of an hour. I’d really like to see that particular fantasy come to life.”
My search for something to say comes up empty.
What is it about this man that jumbles every thought in my head and turns every practical bone in my body to dust?
We’ve been friends for years, and it wasn’t until we started hating each other’s guts that I saw him in anything but a platonic light.
I don’t want to consider what that says about my psyche.
The single step he takes toward me unleashes the words that have been trapped inside me.
“As much as I hate being a disappointment, that fantasy will have to die a slow, painful death.” I manage to keep a straight face as I say it, despite the fact that my insides are roiling like a sea during a storm, every nerve standing at full attention.
A tiny smile crosses his very nice mouth—well, mediocre mouth, really—and he comes even closer. “We both know how much you love disappointing me.”
Regardless of the fact that he’s right, this is one fight I have every intention of winning. “I told you that was a one-time thing.” I edge toward the door as though he doesn’t make my blood run hot.
“Mmm,” he says, then winces. “And yet you seemed particularly tense during the meeting. Seems to me you could use a little stress relief.”
I tighten my grip on the folder I’m holding. “Which is why I’m heading to the spa after this.”
Pierce closes the distance between us, and once again, I’m unable to move. Reaching out a hand to cup my jaw, he leans in close. “Fuck the spa. I’m much more effective.” His voice is to my eardrum what chocolate is to my tongue—smooth, rich, velvety.
At his touch, my eyes flutter closed and goosebumps travel down my spine. I drink in that intoxicating scent. He rubs his nose against the column of my neck, and I shiver. How am I supposed to resist him like this? Maybe once more would purge the desire from my body.
I reconsider his offer, and my eyes fly open. “I’m not having sex on a table,” I say, pushing away from him before I can allow him to do whatever he wants to me.
He snags my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. “Why not?”
Turning, I gape at him. “Have you seen it?” I motion toward the huge slab of wood in the middle of the room. “It’s hard.”
“I’ll show you hard.” A quick tug plants me back in his arms.
I gasp and stage a resistance, but it’s a weak one at best. “Someone might see.”
“A great reason to hurry.”