Chapter 4 #2
Ronan is looking between us with a slight frown, and I force myself to focus on the numbers in front of me instead of the woman explaining them.
But it's harder than it should be, because Annie seems determined to torture me with every small movement—the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way she worries her bottom lip with her teeth when she's thinking, the way she crosses and uncrosses her legs when she finally sits down in the chair next to mine.
We spend the next hour going over financial projections and territory agreements, and I manage to contribute meaningfully to the discussion despite being distracted by Annie's presence. But when she reaches across me to grab a calculator from the desk, her breast brushes against my arm, and I have to bite back a groan. The half-hour long discussion about shipping metrics eased my erection somewhat, despite Annie’s participation in the conversation and the fact that her long, slender legs are a few inches from mine, but that brief graze brings it roaring back to life.
She flinches back as if I’ve burned her. “Sorry,” she murmurs, and I see pink rise in her cheeks as she looks back at the files spread out in front of us.
Ronan glances at her, and I see his jaw twitch, a line appearing between his eyes.
But he says nothing as Annie runs through the projections again, before finally sitting back and looking at me.
"I think we've covered everything for today.
Elio, why don't you take those dock reports with you?
Look them over tonight, and we'll discuss your approach tomorrow morning. "
It's a clear dismissal, and I start gathering the folders. Annie stands up, smoothing down her dress in a way that draws my attention to the curve of her waist. My cock pulses, and I suck in a slow breath.
Somehow, I have to stand up. I try to think of last season’s Red Sox scores, the numbers Annie just rattled off, anything to soften the ridge straining against my zipper. I cannot stand up in front of Ronan like this.
"I should get going too," Annie says. "I have a conference call in twenty minutes."
I reach for my leather messenger bag, pushing the files into it. Somehow, I manage to angle it so that I can stand up without anyone getting a view of my erection, and I awkwardly maneuver around the chair, nearly tipping into Annie in my haste to turn myself around and head for the door.
Fuck. Real smooth, Cattaneo. I’m sure Ronan is looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t turn around to find out.
All I can think about is finding a guest bathroom to take care of this.
I have a meeting with my realtor after this, and I cannot focus on purchasing a place to live until I’ve gotten some relief.
But Annie has other ideas. We step out into the hall, and we’re not fifteen feet from the office when she puts her hand on my arm to stop me as I start to hurry ahead of her.
It feels like her touch burns through my suit jacket, all the way down to my skin. I can feel my cock twitch and strain.
"You look like you're about to jump out of your skin," she says, her voice low and amused. “I’m sure you have this all under control, Elio. Ronan will be patient with you while you learn the ropes.”
"I have no idea what you're talking about." It comes out more strangled than I’d like it to. I clear my throat. “I’ve just got a meeting. Like you,” I add, hoping she’ll remember her conference call and take off.
Her hand drops away from my arm. I’m both relieved and disappointed all at once.
“I was going to suggest dinner,” she says smoothly, although I think I hear a hint of that hitch in her voice still, that slight edge to it.
“There’s a lot to go over, still, when it comes to the financial obligations between our interests and yours.
I thought it might be less tedious with a drink in both of our hands. ”
The thought of dinner with her sounds like the sweetest form of torture I can imagine. It also is, I know, a terrible idea.
I need to spend as little time as I can manage around Annie.
I need, desperately, to find some way to get her off my mind.
Sitting in a restaurant, under dim lights, sipping wine, is the worst possible idea I can imagine.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I manage.
“I don’t want to do anything that might make Ronan think I’m betraying his trust”
Her eyebrows rise abruptly. "Who said anything about betraying trust?" She lets out a small laugh, but it doesn’t sound entirely convincing to my ears. "I'm suggesting dinner, Elio. Not running away to Vegas."
"Dinner."
Annie nods. "Mmm. Tomorrow night. We need to go over the financial obligations between the families anyway—all those boring contracts and profit-sharing agreements.
Might as well do it somewhere with good food.
" Her smile is entrancing. I look at her mouth, and the abrupt throb of my cock and fresh arousal dripping down my length is a quick reminder of how close I am to losing control without ever having touched myself. This last hour has felt like I’ve been fucking edged, and all Annie has done is stand close to me and smile at me.
It's a reasonable suggestion. Professional, even. I’m the one who is making this about something it isn’t. Something that she hasn’t given me any inclination to think that she wants.
“I—” I let out a breath. “I might have plans.”
Annie’s eyebrow twitches. “You don’t know if you have plans tomorrow or not?
” She taps her fingers against the folio in her arms. “I’m putting it on the calendar, Elio.
Dinner. I’ll text you the details. It’s a business meeting,” she adds, as if I need to be reminded of that.
Clearly, I do, and she’s picked up on it.
My neck heats, but my erection doesn’t give a shit how humiliating this is. I’m so aroused that I feel dizzy. Like any second now, I’m going to make the worst fucking decision of my life and pin Ronan O’Malley’s sister up against the wall fifteen feet from his office.
I should say no. I should come up with some fake fucking plans that I have tomorrow night and tell her that we’ll discuss finances at the next meeting.
I should walk away right now, go see my realtor, and pretend this conversation never happened.
Annie O'Malley is trouble wrapped in a package designed specifically to drive me insane, and getting involved with her in any capacity is asking for complications I can't afford.
But God help me, I want to say yes. I want to take her to dinner and watch her face in candlelight.
I want to hear her laugh, see her smile, find out who she's become in the years I've been away.
I want to know if she still gets that little line between her eyebrows when she's concentrating, if she still hums under her breath when she's happy.
I want to find out if she still tastes like strawberries and if her moans still sound like music.
I can’t have what I want. But I can spend an evening with her, just business, and find out a few of those things. And even if it is torture, even if I’m going to want her every second of that dinner and walk away feeling like I’m dying with need, I can’t bring myself to care enough to say no.
"One dinner," I hear myself saying. "Business."
She smiles. “Of course. I’ll bring the files you should look at. We’ll have a good meal and some wine and go over it all. It’ll be much more fun that way.”
Fun. I remember fun with Annie O’Malley. I remember sunshine and warm grass and the smell of it crushed under her as our lips met. Arousal sweeps through me again, hot and urgent, and I swallow hard.
“Text me a time and where you want to meet. I—” I swallow again, or try to, but my mouth is too dry. “I need to go.”
“As do I. See you tomorrow night.”
She disappears around the corner before I can respond, leaving me standing alone in the hallway with my heart pounding and my control in tatters.
Fuck.
I stride down the hall, yanking open the first door I see that looks as if it might lead to a bathroom.
It leads to a small powder room with a long counter and a gilded oval mirror, a lounge seat along one wall, and I shut the door hard behind me, flipping the lock as I yank my zipper down without bothering to undo my belt.
The moment my cock is in my hand, I let out a gasp of relief. My shaft is slick with arousal, the tip so sensitive that I have to grit my teeth to avoid letting out a strained cry of pleasure mingled with pain.
There’s nothing slow about what I do next.
Nothing careful or sensual. I jerk my fist along my length with the frantic need of a man who’s been on the verge of exploding for the last hour, and there’s no point in trying to keep myself from picturing Annie.
The images flash across my mind—my hand cupping her cheek, my thumb against her lower lip, slipping into her mouth as I draw her close to me.
Annie sinking down onto her knees, her eyes alight with mischief as her hands go to my belt.
My fist wrapped around my cock, feeding it between her plush lips as I feel the hot wetness of her tongue along—
That’s as far as I make it. I barely manage to grab a fistful of tissues from the counter to keep from making a mess of my clothes, spurting into the crumpled up handful as my knees threaten to give out on me.
The orgasm is hard and messy and violent, my entire body shuddering with spasms as I grind my teeth together to keep from making a sound.