Chapter 17
AbrAM
“What are you staring at?” she asks.
I’m seated on the couch, one arm draped over the back, shirt still unbuttoned, chest heaving faintly. I lean back, letting my gaze travel.
She’s slipping her blouse back over her shoulders. The way the fabric glides over her skin, the way her hair sticks slightly to the back of her neck, still damp with sweat… it's all I can do not to pull her back to me again.
I grin. “You’re too smart to ask a question like that.”
That earns me a flicker of a smile. But I spot subtle tension in her shoulders, just beneath the surface.
She turns, shirt unbuttoned, bra and no panties, and I beckon her over with a curl of my fingers.
She hesitates before crossing the room and sinking into the space beside me.
Her body fits against mine like it’s always belonged there.
She’s warm and soft. I rest my palm on her thigh and lean in, letting my breath ghost over the shell of her ear.
“I’m glad the secret’s out,” I say.
She tenses slightly but nods.
“I could barely keep my hands to myself. Now I don’t have to.”
That should make her smile. Maybe throw one of her cheeky comments back at me.
But she doesn’t. She’s quiet.
Too quiet.
Her fingers toy with the edge of her shirt, her eyes fixed somewhere across the room. I can practically hear her thoughts clicking into place like dominoes. I know that look—she’s overthinking, analyzing, retreating.
I draw her closer, kissing her cheek, her jaw. “You don’t have to feel awkward.”
She blushes, almost imperceptibly, and nods again. But still, she doesn’t speak. That’s not like Jenna.
“Alright,” I say softly, letting my hand settle at the small of her back. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head.
“Jenna.”
Still nothing.
I tip her chin up with my fingers and her eyes meet mine, wide and uncertain. “Tell me.”
I don’t say it like a demand. Not quite. But my voice is firm, coaxing. At that moment, I can feel her slipping into a shell.
I won’t let her. Not after this.
Her lips part like she’s about to answer, but then she stops herself. I wait, giving her space. The silence stretches. She’s quiet for a few more beats, fingers tracing the seam of my shirt. Then, she exhales softly and looks up at me.
“At the club,” she says, her voice low, “I didn’t know who you were.”
I stay quiet, letting her talk.
She swallows. “And because of that, something in me let go. I wasn’t thinking about how I looked. I wasn’t over-analyzing every part of my body. I just felt...” She pauses, searching for the word, “Free.”
I am genuinely surprised. “You?” I ask. “Self-conscious?”
Her brow furrows slightly. “I can be.” She lifts a shoulder, half shrug, half shield. “But that night, it was like my brain switched off. I wasn’t thinking about my hips or my stomach or if I looked stupid in that dress. I was just... me. And you made me feel wanted. Desired.”
I don’t speak for a second. I just watch her. She’s beautiful—fiercely so—and the idea that she doesn’t see it, or doubts the effect she has, rattles me more than I expected.
“I had no idea,” I finally say. “You always seem so sure of yourself.”
“Professionally I am,” she replies. “It’s the personal part I struggle with sometimes.”
I brush my thumb along her cheek. “Jenna, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.
And I mean that.” I lean in, eyes locked on hers.
“Your curves? That’s exactly what drew me in at the club.
I didn’t know it was you when I saw you at the bar.
I was already planning to approach you before you even turned around. ”
Her eyes soften. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She smiles, slow and a little bashful, then leans back, a small smirk forming on her lips. “Well. I should probably be irritated with you for tricking me.”
“Trick is a strong word,” I reply, amused. “I didn’t exactly know it was you either. Not at first.”
She narrows her eyes. “But you didn’t stop it when you did realize.”
“No,” I admit, unapologetic. “I didn’t.”
She tilts her head, mock stern. “Should I be mad?”
“Are you?”
She hesitates, that slight pause her answer. “Probably not,” she admits, her smirk fading. “But I don’t want to be that woman. The one who fucks her boss.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you willing to be a woman who fucks her boss?”
Her laugh escapes before she can stop it, caught somewhere between exasperation and arousal. I lean in close, brushing her lips with mine.
“Because I have to warn you,” I whisper against her mouth, “twice isn’t going to be enough.”
She breathes me in like she already knows it and laughs. “Well. I guess I am that woman now.”
“And what kind is that?”
“The kind who sleeps with her boss and doesn’t regret a damn second of it.”
I let my gaze roam over her slowly. “Good.”
The smirk returns. “Apparently not good enough to keep her panties.”
I beat her to them, snatching them up from where she left them on the arm of the couch. “You won’t be needing these.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
I open the drawer on the end table beside me and slip them inside, shutting it with a satisfying little click. “I want to think about you without them the rest of the day.”
“Naughty,” she says, voice playful, curious.
“What do your plans look like this week?” I ask. “I want to take you out to dinner. Some place nice.”
“That’s a little backwards, isn’t it?” she teases, her breath brushing my neck. “Dinner after you’ve had me screaming in your office?”
I chuckle. “I like doing things out of order.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Her mouth is so close. I tilt her chin and press a kiss to her lips—soft at first, but she meets me with more.
Hunger flares instantly. My hand slips beneath her blouse, finding the smooth skin along her hips.
She sighs, melting into my touch. The other hand traces up, fingers sliding under her bra to cup her breast. She gasps into my mouth, her body pressing against mine, wanting more.
I can feel her heat, the ache, the need in her breathless little moans. I could take her again so easily
She bites my lip lightly. “We’re really about to do this again?”
“Apparently so.”
As I brush my thumb over her nipple she arches into me. And then—
Knock-knock.
We both freeze.
It’s sharp. Purposeful. Not like a staff member’s knock.
Her eyes widen. “No one should be here. The phone didn’t ring. There hasn’t been a call to let anyone up. Staff’s not in yet.”
I pull back from her slowly and move toward the desk, opening the top drawer. My Glock is in there—always. Just in case. I lift it out and tuck it against my back.
“Go to the far wall.”
She nods then moves, watching me with wide eyes.
I cross to the door and unlock it. I open it fast.
And curse.
Standing there, poised like a goddamn storm in stilettos, is a nightmare from my past.
“Hello, Abram.”