Chapter 2
Tucker
I have absolutely no fucking clue why Aurora is banging her head against my dick. My best guess? Embarrassment about the pink hair. But you’d think she’d feel more embarrassed about the banging.
Either way, it has got to stop.
From the moment she walked into our first interview together, I vowed to never make a move on her in any reasonable or unreasonable way. No dates. No looks. No innuendoes. Nothing. Keep my emotions to myself. I’m good at that anyway. Cue self-deprecating music. I’m fine with it. I know my weaknesses.
And she’s one of them, apparently.
I knew Aurora before, through my sister Georgie, since they’re good friends. But it was the moment she stepped into a room alone with me, wanting to be my assistant, that a rush of thoughts for how she could assist me flooded my system. Over the years, I haven’t communicated any of that, of course. How do you tell your assistant that you love having them close by? That you love spending time with them. Taking lunch breaks with them. Shooting the shit. Even reviewing tasks with them. No. I don’t say any of that. Ever. It’s much more familiar, albeit painful, for me to remain silent on the emotional front.
But this moment, her on her knees, is really pushing the boundaries of my self-control. I imagine this exact scenario would even push the self-control on a monk, so I don’t feel bad that my cock is only going to get harder if she doesn’t get off the floor. Now.
“Get up,” I say, hauling her to her feet. Her chin is still tucked to her chest, which is not Aurora’s default demeanor. She is always poised and confident. Organize. Perfect. Not a blonde hair is ever out of place. I have no idea what she’s thinking right now, but I know I need it to not be this. This is depressing. “Look at me.” I put two fingers under her chin to bring her gaze to mine.
I thought it would be better, you know, to actually look each other in the eyes, rather than have her stare downward in the direction of my throbbing dick.
It’s not much better. I see the frustration and vulnerability in her eyes, and I just want to hug her and tell her it’s not a big deal. You heard that right, and I’m just as stunned as you are about me wanting to be all nurturing and shit. After this moment I might have to go lift some weights. You know, do something manly. I’m not one of those touchy-feely guys. Never have been. And wow, that’s bringing up some painful memories I don’t want to think about right now.
If I focus on Aurora, I won’t have to think about my own shit that I’m dealing with. “It’s not that bad,” I tell her calmly, despite the racket in my head and my heart.
She groans at my unconvincing words, so I try to make them more specific. “It’s just clothing.”
Nope. Her groan tells me that my dry cleaning is not her worry. Didn’t really think it was.
“Is it the hair? It looks…cute.” Cute. Not exactly what I wanted to say. But telling her that she looks smoking hot is not conducive to a platonic work environment.
“Ugh. Just stop, Tucker. You’re not making me feel any better.” She swats at my fingers still under her chin, but instead of releasing her, I cup her jaw with both of my hands. As the warning bells blare in my head, I ignore them. I’m perfectly in control. I’ve been in countless negotiations before. What’s one harmless little woman?
I take another stab at the problem. “Okay. I know the real issue. Go grab yourself another drink and then come back to the office. That’s guaranteed to make you feel better.” After she nods slowly in my hands, I squat down and grab her fudge. “At least this is still intact,” I offer hopefully.
“Yes. At least there’s that.” She snatches it from my hand, immediately unwrapping it and plopping a piece into her mouth. Hugging them to her chest, she says, “These are mine. Don’t touch them.”
I feel a grin tug on my lips. “I wouldn’t dare.” I know not to touch a woman’s snacks. Especially not Aurora’s. I’ve got a little sister. C’mon. I even know I shouldn’t have ripped her toque off of her head, but I had to know what was under that beanie. No one wears a toque in summer. I mean, we’re Canadian, we wear a lot of toques up here, but not when it’s this hot out.
“Run grab your drink. We’ve got a lot to talk about when you return.”
“Fine. But we’re never speaking of this event. Not now. Not ever.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it, Tucker. When I return with my mint mocha, we’re going about business as usual.” Her eyes sweep down my body and I feel the heat trail in their wake. Her finger is all up in my face and then wagging its way down to my toes. “And you better be dressed, mister.”
Mister? Why does that feel so patronizing? I mean, did she see the tenting in my briefs? I smirk at her, “I thought we were going casual today.”
“Not that casual. Never that casual.”
Oddly, I’m a little irritated at the way she emphasized the word never. That even if I was the last man on earth, she wouldn’t give me the time of day. Or night. It stings.
I know what you’re thinking. I’m not going there anyway, so what do I care? I don’t. I don’t care. I don’t care at all. Not one iota. I wouldn’t even waste a breath on it.
Because here’s the thing, I won't fail. Failure is not an option. Not this time. I won’t be that cliche. You know the one, the guy that falls for his assistant. Nah. That’s not me. I’ve told myself that from day one, and there’s no reason to change now. Even though she called me on my bosshole bluff within the first few weeks, I’ve got to maintain my distance. I don’t care if I’m repeating past mistakes. This is different than…that.
When Aurora turns and steps out, my phone dings. Samantha’s name shows up on my screen. She’s an angel investor, but with a little devil in her. Someone I’ve worked with from time to time.
Fuck. That’s the last name I want to see right now. I walk into my office where I have a change of clothes for the days I workout. In the time it takes me to dress, my phone dings three more times. I don’t have to look to know they’re all from Samantha.
She wants to know if I’m going to the gala tonight in the city.
I am.
But…I really don’t want to go alone. Aurora often goes with me, but I’m not sure she’ll want to go with her hair that pink. She doesn’t even look like herself, I doubt she feels very much herself. So that’s not going to work.
Unless…
Well, fuck yes. I might have just had the most brilliant plan of my life. Yup. This is totally going to work.