and answer them as honestly as I can,” he replies.
“I don’t…have any questions right now.”
“So there is nothing you want to know about me?”
He searches my eyes like he knows I’m lying. He wants to trip me up. He wants me to admit it. The truth.
“Did you think about me in the last six months?” I blurt.
He narrows his eyes at me like he’s surprised by my question. Appalled by it. How dare I ask him something as stupid as that? I want to take it back. What was I thinking? A man like him. In his position. With his looks. The money…why would he waste his time thinking about someone like me?
“And you thought you would find the answer to that question, here? In my bedroom? In my wardrobe?”
“No, like I said, I was just curious.”
He takes one more step towards me, and this time when I move back, I graze against the door of the wardrobe. He reaches out, and I think he’s going to touch me, but he plants a hand on the wardrobe instead. I feel trapped in a way that makes my loins burn. I can’t help myself anymore; I’m thrusting my hip out towards him. I don’t know how far I’m ready to go with him, but I know I want to get somewhere.
He leans his face forward so that his hot breath is falling on my face now, making my loose curls quiver. I can smell his peachy breath, so tasty. Kiss me. Please. Reed. Kiss me now. I can feel the heat between my legs. I’m embarrassed but desperate at the same time.
His eyes roam over me, taking in every detail of my face. I know he can see what he’s doing to me.
“I’ll answer your question, Ella. If you really want to know.”
“Yes!” I cry out, out of breath even though I haven’t moved an inch.
“I’ve thought about you every day since that night we met,” he replies. I gulp. I’m suddenly very thirsty. It doesn’t make sense. Why would I be on his mind? He has so much else. He has all this. He probably has a queue of women waiting for him, begging to be taken.
“What did you think about?” I ask, but there’s a hint of disbelief and challenge in my eyes.
“What a shame it was that we didn’t get to do more than just kiss,” he says. His blue eyes look very dark now, like there’s a storm brewing there. His words bounce around in my head. He wanted to do more that night? More than just kiss?
I can feel my throat closing up. I’m panicking. This is exactly what happens every time I think I can have sex with somebody. And Rodney, everything he did and said, intensifies that panicky feeling.
I look away from Reed. I can feel my cheeks burning. He waits a beat before he draws away from me. He is not the kind of man to overstep a line. He needs to be sure.
“I…I’m sorry. I think I need some air,” I declare, clutching my stomach. “Again, I’m really sorry for being in here. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy. I should go back to work. I’m sorry.”
I’m a rolled-up ball of nerves. Such a disaster. While I’m running away from him, Reed doesn’t try to stop me. I know he’s watching me as I escape. I can feel his eyes on me.
I leave the bedroom, run down the hallway, and don’t stop until I find the study. My office. I shut the door behind me and consider locking it.
Why? I’m not trying to protect myself from him; I’m trying to protect myself from myself. I am two breaths away from running back to his bedroom and pouncing on him. Kissing him. Pulling him to the bed so he can kiss me everywhere else.
And then what?
I wouldn’t even know what to do after that.
I’m feeling nauseous with embarrassment and desire as I return to the desk. I’ve already wasted too much time when I should have been making phone calls. I’m half expecting Reed to turn up here and demand an explanation for my behavior.
I tap a pen on the desk nervously. My feet are tapping the floor. I can’t concentrate. I move stacks of papers around. Look through some web pages and click them shut.
I know he’s in the house. That is the problem. I know he’s somewhere here, walking around, being sexy with that rock-solid muscular body that I’m dying to