Chapter 5
ATHENA
When I signed up for the panel on urban architecture and its modern challenges, I was pumped.
I couldn’t wait to see Christopher Webber in person, to hear what he had to say, the first-person account of his career path.
He had quite a challenge back when he was in college since he’s a dark-skinned man in a career made up of mostly white ones.
I can relate to being a woman and facing the usual questions about being good enough for this kind of job.
I had high expectations for this panel today. Instead, all I can do is gawk and drool.
Wiping the back of my hand across my chin, I hope I’m not salivating in the literal sense of the word. That would be embarrassing. Even worse when we consider the way I treated Christopher yesterday.
He’s been everything I could hope for from the moment we met.
Kind, smart, funny. He listens to me, and he’s handsome and caring.
He pays attention; he respects my wishes.
Not once did he find my insistence on staying in long sleeves odd.
He didn’t mention it once, unlike colleagues of mine who made it their passion to tease and point that habit out.
As if I wasn’t aware of it. As if I didn’t hate how I have to wear long sleeves, how they’re the smallest part of the problem.
Christopher is different. He’s different from every other person I’ve ever met. And yet, I pushed him away.
Our gazes lock. He doesn’t look away, those intense gray orbs fastened on me as he speaks.
I’m forced to look down into my notes when it gets too much.
When his gaze burns too bright. My notebook is empty, though.
I haven’t written a single word ever since I sat down in the middle of the crowd.
I chose this spot because I didn’t want to sit in the front like I was desperate, nor in the back where I couldn’t see him.
Christopher found me anyway. His eyes combed the space once and in moments he had found me.
Now, he doesn’t look away. He might blink and stare at the wall for a minute or two while he goes on about what’s the best way to approach modern challenges, but his gaze always comes back to me.
As if he couldn’t help himself. As if he can’t see anything else.
I press my lips together and cross my legs. Today, I’m in a dark red dress, classic and sensible, the fabric hugging my curves until it stops around my knees. A work dress, but a pretty one at that. I can’t deny I put it on to catch his eye. To make Christopher see what he could be missing.
Looking up, I lock eyes with him again. He’s still looking at me. God, what am I doing? Why am I keeping a distance? He’s only been good to me, and yesterday? That kiss set me on fire. Nothing ever felt that good. And yet, I got upset because he made a joke.
I shove my hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face.
What am I doing? I never felt a connection the way I have with him.
I should have told him I didn’t like the joke and stayed with him.
Christopher makes me feel special, special because of myself.
For the first time in my life, someone wants me for who I am.
Not because of my last name, not because I’m connected to my mother.
And I pushed him off.
“He can’t take his eyes from her,” a woman whispers a couple of chairs from me. I snap my head to find her glancing at me.
The man sitting to her left peeks at me, then turns back to her. “It’s Athena Menken. I’ve heard they’ve been glued at the hip ever since the Congress began.”
The woman sitting in the next row turns around to whisper back. “I mean, good for her. Christopher Webber has been untouchable for years. He could get any girl out there, and he chose her.”
“He could have half of the guys, too,” replies the man, and the three chuckle together.
My cheeks burn, but I can’t help the smile. He has chosen me, hasn’t he? There was a connection between us from the moment we met, no matter how hard I try to avoid thinking about it. I shake my head and straighten on the chair. That’s what I needed to hear. I can’t walk away like this.
My heart races in my chest as I wait for the panel to end.
Christopher’s smooth voice caresses my ears, but I can’t focus on his words.
I wait for time to pass. It’s slow torture, watching him move up there in his tight suit, his broad shoulders stretching his shirt.
And I think he sees something change in me because his eyes grow darker and his speech faster.
He wants this to end as much as I do.
Claps make me jerk with astonishment. Oh. It’s over. I bring my hands together, clapping hard as the people drift out of the room, excited murmurs commenting about the panel, asking one another what they’ll have for lunch. And I’m hungry, too, but for something else.
A small group of people gathers around Christopher when he makes his way down the stage. I amble my way there, staying in the back. He finds me with his eyes, then opens a path in the group surrounding him.
“Excuse me. Yes, we’ll discuss more later,” he tells a man who tries to stop him. Christopher makes a beeline in my direction and stops a foot from me. So close I can smell his musky cologne, and it only makes my knees even weaker. “Hi,” he starts with a small smile.
“Hi,” I smile back, heat spreading across my cheeks. “That was... a great panel.”
Christopher opens that panty-melting smile and then laughs. “It was very hard to make it while looking at you.”
More heat spreads down my neck. “I wanted to talk to you.”
He shoots a glance over his shoulder at the people still waiting for him.
“You can go on. I’ll catch up with you in the lunch hall,” he says.
The group moves out of the room, leaving only the two of us and my heart beating out of control in my ears.
Christopher motions for the desk on top of the stage.
“Do you mind if I put my things together?”
“Go ahead,” I reply, then follow him up the stage. Christopher organizes his notes and his laptop, then arranges them into his backpack. I keep my eyes on the empty chairs to avoid looking at his defined ass. “What does it feel like? To make a speech to so many people who look up to you?”
He arches an eyebrow when he glances at me. “I don’t feel like they look up to me. More like we’re all colleagues, and I’m telling them what I’ve learned recently.”
I press my lips together. “Really? You have no idea, do you? These people admire you. I’ve just heard how jealous they were of you spending time with me.”
Christopher zips his backpack and leaves it over the desk. He turns to me, a hand coming up to touch my face, then stopping midway. He lets it drop. “Funny the things we don’t notice, right?”
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
Christopher faces me, then takes another step closer.
His body hovers inches from mine, but he doesn’t touch me.
Why isn’t he touching me? “You, Athena. You’re just like that, too.
” He opens a longing smile I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to see.
“You’re gorgeous and a hard worker, and you have the hottest curves I’ve ever seen.
Yet, you can barely believe how much I want you. ”
Breath clogs in my throat. I swallow the knot, trying to breathe. “I’m not that used to the attention.”
“Because people are fools. You’re perfect just the way you are, and who can’t see that is blind or stupid.
” Christopher’s jaw tightens, a muscle fluttering.
His eyes study my face, then fasten on my lips.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, then takes a step back.
I almost reach out to grab him, wanting to keep him close.
“You were very clear yesterday. I won’t get into your personal space anymore. ”
Oh, of course he’s keeping his distance. I asked for it and he respects me. I shake my head and allow my arms to stretch, my fingers curling on his shirt. Christopher stops, gaping at me in doubt. My mouth moves, but no sound comes. I can’t let him leave like this. This can’t end so soon.
“No,” I mumble. “Please.”
Something jolts across his body. Every muscle in him grows taut. Did I say something I shouldn’t? Why are his gray eyes becoming so dark they look black?
Christopher steps closer. Two fingers raise my chin so I have no option but to face him. Something changed. Something completely changed in him. “Please, what?”
I chew on my bottom lip, my face growing twice hotter. “Please, don’t leave,” I whisper, tightening my grip on his shirt. “I thought it over, and... I want this. I want you.”
Christopher pinches my chin between two fingers. His breath brushes over my lips. I swallow, looking up to meet his dark eyes. “Are you sure? Because if you say yes, I don’t think I’ll ever walk away.”
I nod, his other hand curling around my hip. “Yes,” I breathe out, and this tiny word seals it.
Christopher bends fast, as if he had been waiting for that.
As if he had been poised upon the edge of a cliff, hoping I would say this.
His lips crash to mine, his fingers digging into my hair, roping, pulling.
The heat of him is everywhere. His scent invades my nostrils, and I slam my eyes shut and ride the pleasure of his arms around me.
There’s an unfamiliar edge to this kiss.
A desperate ache. Christopher holds onto me as if he feared I was lost. As if he truly believed he had lost me, and that pained him.
He devours my lips, tongue sweeping over mine, his body bending me backward over the table.
He presses me so hard against him I fear we might become one.
My fingers race up his muscular chest, impossible to conceal beneath the thin shirt. Desire shoots through my veins, coiling low in my body. Between my legs, where his thigh nudges my knees apart.