Chapter Fourteen #3
Silence settled between us—not uncomfortable, despite the weight of everything she’d just shared.
As much as I hated thinking about a ten-year-old Raina losing her father, or a college-aged Raina giving up her education to care for her mother, I was grateful she’d trusted me with these pieces of herself.
I felt closer to her now. The connection between us was deepening into something that had nothing to do with fake relationships or business arrangements and as much as I knew how complicated things could potentially get, I didn’t fight the feeling.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I can’t imagine how difficult that was. Losing your father so young, and then years later, almost losing your mother too…”
I released her hand, but only so I could reach up and brush a strand of hair away from her face. The gesture was tender, unhurried. My fingertips traced along her cheekbone, and I felt her breath catch.
The air in the car shifted. We were alone. It was dark, the interior lit only by the distant glow of the streetlight. I could see the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, could feel the sudden charge that crackled in the small space separating us.
Slowly—deliberately—I slid my hand around to cup the back of her neck. My thumb brushed against the soft skin behind her ear, and I felt a shiver run through her.
I was going to kiss her, and I wanted her to understand this wasn’t some kind of obligation. This wasn’t for show. There was no audience here, no Alexander to convince. Just the two of us in the dark, and the truth I’d been fighting for weeks.
Her lips parted and I heard the soft intake of her breath as I leaned across the console, using the gentle pressure of my hand to draw her toward me. She came willingly, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light, locked on mine until the last possible second.
When my mouth met hers, the world outside ceased to exist.
The kiss started slow. A gentle press of lips at first, but Raina’s response was immediate, her mouth opening beneath mine, and whatever restraint I’d been holding onto dissolved in an instant.
I deepened the kiss, tasting her, losing myself in the soft sounds she made against my lips.
My hand tightened at the back of her neck, angling her head so I could kiss her more thoroughly.
She responded with equal fervor, her fingers fisting in the front of my shirt, pulling me closer across the awkward barrier of the console.
This was nothing like the kiss at the gala—that brief, calculated performance.
This was real and raw. I kissed her like I’d been starving for it.
I poured every ounce of want into that kiss, every frustrated night I’d spent trying not to think about her, every moment I’d caught myself staring at her lips and forced myself to look away.
Her fingers climbed higher, clutching at my collar, and a soft moan escaped her that nearly shattered what remained of my self-control.
I wanted to drag her across the console and into my lap.
Wanted to feel her weight pressing down on my aching cock, wanted to discover what other sounds I could draw from her throat.
When I finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing hard. Raina’s eyes were dazed, her lips swollen and pink, her fingers still tangled in my shirt like she was holding onto me like a lifeline.
I pressed my forehead to hers, just breathing her in before a smile tugged at my mouth. “That,” I murmured against her lips, “was about you and me, no one else. But it’s not going to be nearly enough.”
She let out a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. In the dim light, I could see the desire written plainly across her features—the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
“Invite me upstairs,” I heard myself say before I could stop myself.
The words came out low and rough, and I knew it was all sorts of wrong.
She was my employee. We’d already blurred too many lines.
But looking at her now, feeling her warmth so close to me, the taste of her still lingering on my lips, resisting her felt impossible.
Desire had long since overridden reason.
“Simon…” Her voice was barely a whisper, caught somewhere between uncertainty and want.
I kissed her again. This time, there was no gentleness.
I claimed her mouth with a hunger I’d been holding back for weeks, pouring every ounce of need into the slide of my lips against hers.
My hand cupped the back of her head, angling her exactly where I wanted her, and she responded with equal fervor—her fingers clawing at my shoulders, her body straining toward mine across the console.
She was practically climbing over the center divider, desperate to get closer, and God, I wanted to let her. I wanted to pull her into my lap and feel her grind against me. But the first time I fucked her wasn’t going to be in a cramped car, no matter how badly I ached for it.
So I kept kissing her instead. Deep, drugging kisses that left her gasping. My teeth scraped her bottom lip, and she whimpered. My tongue swept against hers, and she melted. I kissed her until she was trembling, until coherent thought seemed to have abandoned her entirely.
When I finally pulled back a fraction, the air between us was filled with a heady anticipation and I waited, letting her decide what came next.
“Come upstairs,” she finally whispered against my mouth, the words barely audible.
I smiled against her lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”