Chapter Six #4
She blinked. She’d been moving while she talked, and she’d backed him up against his desk.
Her face flamed as he raised his hands in protest. “Rachel, I like doing things for people. I’m sorry it didn’t land the way I’d pictured.
I wasn’t trying to make you feel like a charity case or someone who needed to be cared for because you couldn’t provide for yourself or your daughter.
That was never my intention. You are an amazing mom.
I wanted to let you know that I see that, see how hard you work.
I see you, Rachel, and you’re incredible. That’s all the gifts were.”
She should be thrilled by his admission, but she’d heard those words before, the ones telling her that she was incredible, from her ex.
Look how that had turned out. “While I thank you for thinking so highly of me, I don’t need you to validate me or my parenting.
I don’t need you to take care of me. I don’t need any—”
Without thinking, she’d raised her finger.
She’d pointed it at him, jabbing toward his face like an annoying fly entering his personal space.
He wrapped his palm around the digit and snagged her forefinger from the air, drawing her hand downward.
She didn’t intend to stumble, but she was so shocked by the motion—first by her poking at him and then him grabbing her finger—she simply faltered.
Like the night before, she found herself in his arms and her palm on his chest. Her mouth opened. One of his arms slid around her waist. “Oakley, I…”
“Rachel.” Her name coming from his mouth was a plea.
She had no idea who moved first—did it even matter?
—but the first touch of her lips to his was an earthquake.
She felt the impact everywhere, from head to toe.
This was no gentle kiss or tentative exploration.
No slow and steady. This was cataclysmic…
a crashing, colliding, molding and melding, born of a sense of desperation that the kiss couldn’t be deep enough, fast enough.
Her mouth had to have his, and his hers.
The kiss consumed, elevated and erased everything that had come before as it blazed a new trail.
She was standing between his legs as he sat on the desk.
His hands were against the nape of her neck and threaded into her hair, the strands of her new hairstyle draped through his fingers.
She clutched his shoulders, somehow managing not to collapse as she leaned into him.
His tongue touched hers, and then began to explore her mouth.
A hand left her hair to cup her bottom, and when he drew her to him, she sensed every inch of his desire.
No words needed to be spoken, almost as if both were afraid doing so would break the spell the kiss wove. They devoured each other, letting their tongues and lips say everything necessary. It wasn’t until Oakley’s phone began trilling that Rachel came to her senses and jumped out of his arms.
By the time he silenced the alarm on his phone, she’d made it into the bathroom and locked the door.
She gripped the edge of the sink and stared into her glazed eyes, which had turned a wide, shell-shocked blue.
She pressed a finger against puffy, just-thoroughly-kissed lips.
What had she been doing? If Oakley hadn’t had to get to lunch with the person from the city council, would they have had sex on his desk?
So much for creating lines and boundaries.
She’d crossed them willingly and would have kept going until reaching a logical—and most likely orgasmic—conclusion.
A knock sounded on the door. “Rachel?” He knocked again.
“Rachel… I’m sorry, but I have to leave. We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”
She drew herself to her full height, turned and threw open the door. Mr. Pure Temptation straightened and searched her gaze. “You okay?”
“That can never happen again,” she told him.
This time she did not wave a finger. “When you come back, put it out of sight and out of mind. We are professionals. Nothing more. I won’t say it was a mistake or that it was unwanted.
That would be a lie. But we pretend the kiss never happened.
We don’t talk about it. We just go on. Understood?
I can’t work for you if you don’t agree. ”
He gave her a brusque nod. “If that’s what you want, consider it done.”
“It’s what I want.”
Maybe. She was torn. But she needed this job, and she released a relieved breath when he let the half-truth slide. “Okay. Done. I want you to be happy, Rachel.”
“And I’ll keep the gifts, not because I need them, but because it was a nice gesture and I like them.” Before he could say anything else, she shut the door in his face and stayed in the bathroom until she was certain he’d left the office.
His business lunch took almost three hours, so by the time he returned it was late afternoon. He smiled at her politely as he entered the inner office, and he went into his personal space and closed the door so he could make phone calls.
She ignored her body’s melancholy reaction and shut her eyes. This was what she wanted: distance, space and professionalism. A workspace with no desire. Then why did she feel so awful? She opened her eyes, sighed and got back to work.