Chapter Twenty
The next five days passed in shockingly uncomfortable silence.
I slept in while he got ready for work.
When he came home, he made dinner or ordered in, never saying more than a handful of words to me. Then, usually, he went for a run, swim, or to the gym, only speaking to me to tell me that he was leaving.
I tried to convince myself that it was better than us actually playing house. I attempted to keep myself busy by obsessively watching the stock market, especially what was going on with my Idiot Fund.
After the sixth day of distance, I started to get this weird churning in my stomach each time I walked into the common area, some part of me expecting (and inexplicably dreading) to see a familiar folder full of documents I’d given Harrison twice. This time, signed.
But it didn’t surface.
I was trying to figure out what to do with my day when there was a ringing sound somewhere in the apartment.
Curious, I followed the sound into the study where an actual landline phone sat on the desk.
“Hello?” I answered when it stopped ringing, only for it to start up again.
“Oh, Mrs. Valentine,” Madison’s voice met my ear. “Good. Mr. Valentine asked me to call you.”
“Really? Why?”
Were we using go-betweens now? How mature.
“He can’t find his phone. He figured he must have left it at home and it went dead. He’s in a meeting, so he can’t come home. He was wondering if you could locate it and bring it to the office?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll go look around.”
“Fantastic. Sooner would be better. I think we all feel kind of naked without our phones.”
“Yeah. I’ll go look right now.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Valentine.”
With that, I started looking in the primary bedroom, the closet, and the bathroom. But nothing. Same for the kitchen, living room, and pantry.
I was about to give up when I saw it in, of all places, one of my shoes by the front door. Like he’d maybe missed his pocket and it landed so quietly inside that he didn’t even notice. Because he was in such a damn rush to get out of the apartment before I got up.
As expected, John was waiting for me down at the street. He even offered to bring the phone up to Harrison’s office for me.
I couldn’t give you a logical reason I turned him down.
“You found it!” Madison said, looking relieved as I came off the elevator.
“I did. In a shoe,” I told her, watching her smile.
“I once found mine in my fridge.”
“I’ll just plug it in for him,” I said, waving toward the office.
“Of course. Thanks again.”
I made my way into his glass office, sucking in a deep breath and inhaling that comforting, spicy leather scent that clung to him.
I moved behind his desk, sitting down when I didn’t immediately see a phone cord anywhere.
Apparently, when you had a fancy desk, they hid the plugs inside the top drawer.
I’d just finished plugging it in when I saw Madison exhale hard and grab her purse.
Lunch break, maybe?
So she wouldn’t notice if I lingered for just another moment.
As I was sliding the top drawer closed, my finger hit a button and I jolted when I saw the glass office walls frost over.
“Okay. That’s cool,” I decided, touching the button again and watching the glass go clear.
But, well, there was another button. So I had to press it, right?
This time, the glass didn’t just frost; it went completely white.
And it was right then, before I could undo it, that Harrison moved into the doorway.
“Caught,” I admitted, shooting him a guilty smile. “Look, you can’t have weird secret buttons inside your desk drawer and not expect people to push them.”
For the first time in days, a small smile tugged at his lips.
“I don’t usually expect people to sit in my desk chair.”
“I was looking for your phone cord,” I admitted. “Madison asked me to see if you left it at home. You did.”
“Where?”
“My shoe.”
“Those damn shoes,” he said, shaking his head, but he didn’t seem annoyed, just resigned about their frustrating existence. “Thanks for bringing it. I could have had John bring it over.”
“He offered.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his head tipping to the side.
Something in him seemed to ease. The guard that I’d felt slammed down fully around him lowered ever so slightly.
“Yeah. But I figured I should bring it.”
“Why’s that?”
I wasn’t about to admit it was because I wanted to see him, to maybe hear him say something other than “Dinner’s ready” or “I’m going to the gym” to me.
I shrugged a shoulder.
“I don’t know.”
Harrison sucked in a deep breath, pausing to hang up his suit jacket, then closing the door.
“You haven’t said more than two words to me in a week, but you wanted to bring my phone to my office?” he asked.
“You haven’t been talking to me.”
“Conversation goes both ways, sweetheart.”
The name didn’t sound soft and sweet like it usually did; it sounded sad, tired.
“Yeah, well, you’re better at it.”
“I’m only better at it now because you’re angry with me. You had no problem talking to me in Vegas.”
There was no denying that. I’d told him things I rarely told anyone. Even if I didn’t have much of a memory of it.
“My stocks are doing well,” I told him.
His smile didn’t even try to reach his eyes.
“I knew you’d be good at it if you set your mind to it.”
He moved closer to the desk as he spoke, making me remember I was in his seat.
“Do you want me to leave?” I asked, getting to my feet.
“I want a lot of things,” he said, moving forward to trap me behind the desk. “That’s not one of them.”
My belly flip-flopped.
The air between us felt heavy, hard to breathe.
“Madison…” I started.
“Went to lunch,” he finished for me, towering over me, stepping closer. I had to turn to keep eye contact, backing myself up against the desk. “I’m starving too.”
His hands went to my hips, pushing until I sat off the edge of the desk.
Anticipation sizzled across my nerve endings as he dropped into his chair and leaned closer.
His hands went to my knees and pressed my legs wide.
Then he was reaching up my shorts, yanking the leg and my panties to the side, ducking his head, and running his tongue up my cleft.
I’d never been more thankful for an outfit choice in my life as my hand went to the back of his head, holding him to me as he licked, sucked, and drove me up.
“Harrison.” I breathed out his name, the ache inside telling me exactly what I needed.
His head turned up, pupils blown wide, his need as clear as my own.
I slid forward until I stood in front of him. Then pushed down my shorts and panties.
A low rumble moved through him as his hand went to his pants, yanking at his belt, pushing through his button, then pushing down his zipper.
He reached in, fisting his cock, and stroked himself once, twice, making me need to press my thighs together as the ache grew.
“Turn around,” he demanded, his gaze molten. “Bend over the desk.”
Heat flared as I did as I was told.
Then he was on his feet, standing behind me, pressing his cock against me.
His hand went to my shoulder, holding me in place, then he slammed deep inside me.
My moan mingled with his rough curse as he filled me completely.
There was nothing then but the need, the rush of our bodies, the pleasure that grew until it burst, both of us coming hard.
The hazy aftermath didn’t last long, though.
Harrison seemed to recover first, straightened, then slid out of me and away.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said, seeming to speak mostly to himself as I reached down to yank my panties and shorts back into place.
“Why not?” I asked, more hurt than I’d anticipated.
“It’s… not good for us.”
“I’m pretty sure that was good for both of us,” I countered, confused as I watched him zip back up and refasten his belt.
His gaze flicked to mine for just a second. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Being with you is…” he floundered to find the word for a moment, “it’s incredible.”
“But?” I prompted, sensing it hanging in the air.
“But,” he agreed, “it is… emotionally expensive.”
“Do you have to analyze it?” I asked, surprised by how vulnerable I felt, how much this was feeling like rejection. “Can’t we just have this?” I asked, waving at the desk as I moved around it, feeling like I suddenly needed physical distance between us.
It was a long moment before he looked at me.
When he did, he exhaled hard, and I knew the answer before he spoke.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think we can.”
Then he dropped down into his seat and hit the button to make the glass go clear again.
And me?
I was thoroughly dismissed, wasn’t I?