these two different men? A second realization hits me. Perhaps I am a determining factor. The concept is scary. The only way I can get him to drop his guard is to drop mine. Maybe I can change everything.
“Josh.”
When he hears me shorten his name, he folds up my fingers and gives me my hand back. It’s time to try this. I pray I’m not wrong.
“I wanted you there on Friday night. You, and only you. And if you don’t want to be friends with me, I’ll try to play the Or Something Game with you.”
There’s a long pause and he doesn’t react. If I’ve misjudged this, I will never live it down. My heart is pulsing uncomfortably fast.
“Really?” He is skeptical.
I push him against the door and feel a thrill when I hear the thud of his weight against it.
“Kiss me.” I whisper it and the air gets warmer.
“So the Or Something Game involves kissing. How interesting, Lucinda.” He passes his fingers through my hair, raking it gently away from my face.
“I don’t know the rules yet. It’s a pretty new game.”
“Are you sure about that?” He looks down to watch my hand spread out over his stomach.
I push at the hard flesh. It doesn’t remotely give. “Are you wearing a bullet-proof vest?”
“I’ve got to in this office.”
“I really am sorry for hurting your feelings, and for throwing you out of my apartment. Josh.” When I use his shortened name, it’s a little peace offering. It’s an apology.
Frankly, it’s a pleasure. It lets me imagine he’s my friend. My friend, who lets me run my palms up his torso in a cleaner’s closet. I wish he’d run his hands up mine.
“Apology accepted. But you can’t expect me to be a nice guy when another man walks you into the office, and kisses you and gives you flowers. It’s not the way this game works between you and me.”
“I have never had the faintest clue on how it works.” I swallow heavily. He touches his fingers underneath my chin, raising my face to his.
“I thought you were so clever, Lucinda. I must be wrong.”
I rise on tiptoes and when my hands slide onto his shoulders and grip. When I press my fingernails into him, his throat constricts in a swallow and I manage to land one glancing, openmouthed kiss across it. I can feel the effect it has; his hands flex, his hips tilt toward me. Something heavy presses into my stomach.
This is the best game I’ve ever played in my entire life.
His hand settles on my lower back and I arch against him and manage to get one hand on the nape of his neck.
“Is there any reason we’re not kissing yet?”
“The height difference, mainly.” He’s trying to conceal the fact he’s got an erection hard enough to dent a tin can. It’s an impossible task. I smile and try to tug him down to my mouth.
“Well, don’t make me climb up there.”
His mouth belongs on mine, but he doesn’t move down farther. His face tightens with indecision and restrained lust. I imagine he’s mulling over the work implications.
“We’re barely working together for another two weeks. So what does it matter?” I congratulate myself on my casual tone.
“What a romantic proposition.” His tongue emerges and licks the corner of his mouth. He wants to. It’s obvious he does. But yet he still resists.
“Put your hands on me.”
Instead of grabbing me, he puts out his hands, offering them to me like I just did to him. Then he just stands there. His chest rises and falls.
“Put them on yourself.”
Nothing ever goes the way I expect it will. I take one of his hands and lay it on my side. The other, I decide to slide around to my butt. Both squeeze me, but they don’t move. Basically, I’m feeling myself up, hardly aided by him at all.
“Is this to get around the HR rules? No more HR threats. It’s a complete waste of breath at this point.”
Saying it was a waste of my breath. I need all the oxygen I can get. The heat of his hands on me burns through my