11. NICO
11
NICO
I haven’t set foot on the sixth floor for the best part of a month, and yet almost every second of every day, in the background of my mind like the distant drone of traffic, I’ve been aware that if I wanted to find Kate, that’s where she’d be.
I’ve resisted the siren call of her presence with admirable fortitude. But now, as I lean back in my chair on Friday evening and gaze out my office window, I succumb to the truth: I can’t get her out of my head. I’m wasting too much of my time wondering what’s underneath her prim and proper office attire, or what her skin feels like beneath those silk shirts, or how firm her thighs are and what they’d feel like around my neck.
Fucking pointless too, because I’m never going to find out.
I push aside the contract I’ve been trying to read and draft a quick email to my PA to set up welcome drinks for the Lansen team. I can’t avoid Kate forever, and it’s verging on unacceptable that we haven’t formally welcomed them. I’m busy, sure, but it’s no excuse.
A wave of irritation blasts through me as I hit send. Avoiding floors in my own building because there’s one woman down there who turns me on but shouldn’t is beyond ridiculous. I can control my fucking sex drive.
I’ll go down to the sixth floor and talk to her right now and invite her in person to the welcome drinks.
Five minutes later, I walk out of the lift onto the sixth floor, and the silence hits me. No chatter, except for the hum of electricity whirring through a hundred computers. Shit . Everyone’s gone. I didn’t realise how late it was.
A shout distracts me. Or was it a scream? I hold my breath and listen.
It comes again. Muffled, but definitely a shout, coming from the bathroom. My mind immediately goes to Kate, a burst of pressure in my chest urging me to run. I dodge through the desks and slam my way into the bathroom.
It’s empty, aside from a handbag I recognise as Kate’s lying on the side of the sink. Makeup is strewn around, and a crumpled black dress lies on the floor next to a pair of silver shoes. What in God’s name is she wearing if her clothes are out here?
“Hello?”
The voice is definitely Kate’s. Tension seeps from my muscles. She’s all right. At least, she sounds it.
“Is somebody there?” she demands.
A pounding starts. Fists on the door of the end cubicle. Then the banging stops. “This is just fucking typical.”
She sounds resigned to her fate, and the frustration in her voice makes me want to laugh. Is she on the phone? I wait for her to speak again, but she’s silent. I catch sight of her phone by the sink. Nope; she’s alone.
“I know you’re out there,” she yells. “I heard footsteps. Help me, you motherfucker.”
Motherfucker ? You’d think she knows it’s me out here.
“Kate?”
The noise stops entirely.
I step closer to the door. “Do you need help?”
For a few moments, she says nothing.
While I wait, I pick up one of her shoes and lean back against the sink. The shoe looks almost new. Soft leather, with supple soles. High quality. She must have splashed out on these. A present for herself, perhaps? I check the brand, only to find my friend’s signature on the inside sole: Erica Lefroy . Her fashion line has been doing well recently, but I didn’t realise Kate was into that sort of stuff.
I let the silver heel dangle from my index finger and check the size. Her feet are smaller than I would have thought.
I drop the shoe and lean my ear against the door of the bathroom stall. There’s a frustrated muttering coming from the other side that draws a wry chuckle from my throat.
I’m probably the last person she wants to see.
I tap gently against the door with my knuckle. “I know it’s you.” More silence. “Are you stuck?”
A loud sigh burrows its way through the door. “No, Nico. I enjoy spending my Friday evenings locked in the toilet.”
I snort. She’s funny .
“The lock is jammed. Bloody stupid cubicles,” Kate explains. “If you had regular toilets, I could have squeezed underneath the door.”
I stand back, slide my hands in my pockets, and tamp down the urge to laugh as I imagine Kate squirming on the bathroom floor to escape her temporary prison. “What would you like me to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” Kate huffs. “Redesign the bathrooms? What do you think I want you to do? Get me out of here. Break the door down for all I care.”
“As much as I’d love to break down the door and rescue you, I don’t want to damage my property.”
Kate mutters something I can’t make out.
I’m silent as I examine the lock. I can’t swing it from this side. I walk to another cubicle and check the mechanism on an open door. It’s sticky, but it twists.
Kate’s voice, less irate now, echoes around the stalls. “Are you still here?”
I return to her cubicle. “I am.”
Lucky for Kate, I always carry a penknife. Strangely enough, it was a gift from her father. I pull it out of my pocket and read the inscription on the handle.
Don’t kill anyone.
Love, Godfather Gerard .
I wonder if he ever imagined that one day I’d be using his gift to liberate his daughter from a locked bathroom stall.
I pull out the screwdriver option and set to work.
“Stand back,” I tell her, and I hear movement on the other side.
A moment later, the lock falls away entirely. I catch it on my side, but on Kate’s, it clatters to the floor.
She gasps, and for some reason the noise makes me want to haul her out and sling her over my shoulder.
I push the door open, but I’m completely unprepared for the sight that greets me.
Her makeup is more intense than normal, her already large eyes outlined in sweeps of black that make them appear bigger, sexier, than normal. Something dark and slick coats her full lips, giving them a sheen that catches the light. Her mouth looks… moist, and I immediately want to suck the offensive bottom lip between my own .
But it’s the fact that she’s more naked than clothed that snares my attention. There’s so much flesh, so much skin, that I can’t stop staring. She’s perfect… smooth all over.
A pair of sleek black shorts reveal long, toned thighs and a shimmering green top scoops low between her breasts. A narrow expanse of stomach is visible where the top doesn’t meet the shorts, the skin lightly tanned and unbearably tempting.
But her breasts… fuck me . If she tilted towards me, they’d fall out, and there’s no way she’s wearing a bra. As my gaze lingers, I swear I can see the outline of her nipples hardening. My cock twitches in response.
Kate clears her throat, calling me out. I raise my eyes to meet hers with just enough presence of mind to conceal the fact that I’m completely blown away by how fan-fucking-tastic she looks.
I lean casually against the doorframe.
Kate nods at the penknife in my hand. “What are you, a boy scout?”
I slide it back into my pocket and arch a brow, attempting to affect disdain. “What the hell are you wearing?”
She stiffens, clearly irritated. “That’s none of your business. My contracted hours are over for the day. I can wear whatever I want.” She steps closer to me, as if she expects me to move aside at her instigation.
I don’t.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Also, none of your business.”
Christ, this woman is infuriating . “Wear a coat when you leave.”
“Worried about me getting cold again?” Her lips tilt up, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think Kate Lansen was flirting with me.
“No.” My gaze hovers at her full lips, then slides down her neck to her bare shoulders. Her skin is so flawless that I’m consumed by the desire to touch it. Such an intimate part of one’s body, the shoulder. Rarely revealed, particularly in an office environment.
Her throat bobs, breath hitching as she watches me watch her, and tension expands like steam, engulfing us both. There’s no sign of amusement or flirtation on her face, because whatever’s happening right now feels much more serious than that.
Every item of clothing I’m wearing suddenly feels too small, scratching at my skin.
“Are you going to move out of my way?” she breathes.
Shit . I’m still blocking her way out.
I turn aside and she assesses the gap I’ve left for her to move through. Her gaze flicks up to mine, and she takes one more small, deliberate step, halting right before me. So close.
“Nico…” My name is a mere exhalation on her lips. It sounds… needy . The energy intensifies, swirling between us; a force that’s trying to drag me closer to her.
As if of its own volition, my hand stretches out, fingers reaching towards the expanse of bare skin that runs between the shorts and top.
What the fuck am I doing?
Everything happens in slow motion. She watches my hand. She could stop me, but she doesn’t. She’s hardly breathing, but neither am I.
Our eyes lock, and I make an almost imperceptible gesture. Can I? Her responding nod is so small I can’t be entirely sure it happened, but then she takes another tiny step closer. So close I can feel her breath on my face.
My fingertips dust against her hip, and the flesh flutters beneath. A small gasp escapes her lips, not loud enough to break me out of whatever trance her body has drawn me into, but enough to let me know my touch affects her.
Her skin is so soft, so warm, that I immediately want more. More skin, more flesh, more contact. It’s all I can do not to grab her with both hands.
I hold my breath and slide my finger along the waistband of her tiny shorts; the motion feels illicit; a sin I want to commit over and over and it sends my pulse sky high. All it would take is one swift motion for my fingers to slip down…
Goosebumps scatter over Kate’s skin and she lets out the tiniest moan. Heat pools deep in my groin. Fuck me . I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman as much as I want her right now.
I’m crossing so many lines, I’ve burnt them all to fucking ash. I need to pull it back, and fast.
I let the waistband of her shorts snap back in place. I should stop touching her, but my hand lingers, my thumb gently stroking her hip. She hasn’t acknowledged it, but tiny jerks of her body continue to echo my touch. I want to tell her how beautiful she is, how perfect. But a husky rasp comes out. “I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”
Laughter bubbles up in her throat, an almost hysterical sound that breaks me out of my stupor as she draws back just far enough that I would have to stretch to reach her again.
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m going out,” she states, her defensive mask back in place. I’m impressed by the speed of her recovery. “A lot of people are going to see me like this.” She gestures at her almost naked body—the body that until seconds ago was about to dance to my fucking tune—and a salacious look ripples over her face, that all but screams, ‘ I’m hot and I know it, and you can’t have me ’.
My shoulders tighten. The suggestion that others are going to see her this way, maybe even touch her, makes me want to burn the whole fucking world to the ground.
“A lot of men are going to see me like this,” she teases, seemingly encouraged by whatever reaction she’s noticed in me.
Fuck that. If she wants to play, I’m game.
“And here I thought you were getting dressed up for me.” I cross my arms and lean back against the doorframe, smiling. “You cut me deep, Kate.”
She flinches at the use of her full name. “Why you…” She shuts her mouth, like she’s decided against whatever she was about to say. Then she stares me down until I finally shift out of her way, giving her just enough space to edge past me. Our bodies brush and the contact is electrifying, but Kate reveals no sign it affects her as it does me.
She slides on her shoes, grabs her belongings, and stuffs everything into a tiny backpack. Her shorts reveal the curved half-moons of her butt cheeks, and when she bends over, it’s fucking delicious.
She paces towards the door, but just before she reaches it, she glimpses herself in the full-length mirror and slows.
She bends to fix her shoe, sliding her finger in the heel.
I slow down so we don’t collide and at the same moment the main door to the bathroom swings open.
“Kate,” I yell, closing the distance between us so fast I’m surprised my shoes aren’t smoking. I lurch across the curve of her back, sticking my hand out so the door crashes against my palm instead of her head and bounces back towards its closed position.
I’m off balance and my momentum throws me forward. I smash into Kate, who’s frozen in her half-crouched position, and I grab her with both hands.
I stumble, clinging to her, trying to find my feet so we don’t collapse in a heap. I’d fucking crush her.
She swipes at me. Grabs and clings. We’re a mess of tangled limbs; for a second I don’t know which way is up and I’m bracing to thud against the tile floor.
Somehow, I stay upright and drag Kate up to standing beside me. Her skin is hot beneath my hands, but the alarm in her dark eyes is so beguiling that I want to scoop her up and take her home.
A silent beat passes, the two of us locked together, our noses only inches apart. The look in Kate’s eyes softens, and warmth spills through my insides.
A cleaner appears on the other side of the door, all wide eyes and frizzy dark hair. Her gaze runs over our haphazard embrace and her eyebrows rise. “Oh dear. Sorry. I'll come back later, okay?”
Without waiting for a reply, she disappears. The door closes and the intimacy of the moment shatters as Kate’s palms slam against my chest, pushing me away with unnecessary force.
“What are you doing? Get your hands off me.”
I release her, and she trips back a few steps before righting herself. Her breaths come fast, the green sequins of her top shimmering with each shudder of her breasts. She places one steadying hand between them.
I mock-frown. “I think what you mean is ‘thank you’.”
“For what? Groping me in the office bathroom?”
“No. Saving you from a head injury.”
She huffs out an exasperated breath. “You’re an arsehole.”
Frustration coils in my gut. I can’t believe I came down here to invite her to drinks when all she does is swear in my face. No matter how attractive this woman is, I don’t need this crap in my life.
I run a hand over my forehead and then point towards the cubicle she was stuck in. “Should’ve left you locked in there all night. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit.”
That harsh, dismissive laugh erupts from her mouth again. “My bullshit? You’re the one quizzing me on where I’m going and what I’m wearing when it’s none of your business. I’m leaving. And before you ask, I’m going to get my coat, so you don’t need to worry about me getting cold. Or my near-nudity degrading the reputation of your company when I leave the building, or whatever bothers you about this outfit.”
She stands tall and marches out of the room, and all I can do is watch her perfect arse saunter away.
Well, shit .
She might as well have my dick in her pocket, because there is no woman in the world right now that gets me hard like Kate Lansen.
I’m completely hers, whether she wants me or not.