Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,51

this has all been cool...” I looked around the room again at what we’d created, then stared down at the couch—it was ridiculous o’clock, and we’d finally finished work, but I was mentally and physically drained, and had flopped onto Raine’s couch to gather the energy to go home. “...but I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment. I’ve only just... I just don’t know if that’s what I want right now.”

“I’m asking you to work with me, not to elope. Take a fucking chill pill.”

“I know, it’s just—”

“Only, just what?”

“Hmm...?”

“Before you said you’re not ready, because you’ve only ‘just,’ but then you stopped. Which reminds me. You wouldn’t answer my questions about you, yet you’ve come in hot probing into my life. You’ve only just what?”

I sighed, and shot a wary look at him as he perched on the edge of his desk. The man was impossibly perfect. Sometime after office hours, he’d unbuttoned his shirt almost to the waist, and I’d spent the rest of the evening and into the night trying not to notice his chest. He was lean and toned, rather than hugely built, and I had to fight the urge to reach out and stroke him.

It had been one of the weirdest days of my life, and I still wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. After disappointing myself by having sex with Raine in broad daylight in his office like some kind of escort or something, I’d felt like an absolutely horrible human. Not the least of reasons being that, although I absolutely regretted the circumstances, I didn’t actually regret the sex itself.

In fact, as with the first time, it had been some of the best sex of my life. I just wished it didn’t make me feel so bad afterward. It was similar to the feeling I got when I overindulged and pigged out on donuts, or went overboard with drinking—it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the guilt and regret afterward had gnawed away at me.

Raine, of course, was taking the whole thing in his stride, not even flinching. He’d come just as hard as I had, yet as soon as he’d recovered his breath, he’d gotten dressed quickly and carried on, all business, as though we hadn’t both just left part of our souls on his desk. Or, maybe he hadn’t, but I had, and he’d certainly looked that way as he’d come down from his high.

Following his lead, I’d straightened my clothes, and also got straight down to business. We’d put in a few solid hours of work, barely talking sometimes, both engrossed in what we were doing until the job was done. Then Raine had met again with the other guys—this time in the boardroom—to show them where things were ahead of the meeting the next day.

He’d asked me to attend also, but I’d declined. It was one thing to work with Raine behind closed doors like a silent partner, and quite another to walk into a room with those imposing and impressive men, and present the work as though I had as much right to be there as they did, when I blatantly did not.

He’d emerged a few hours later looking confident and relaxed, with a few notes and changes for us to work on for the rest of the day and into the night. We did so, again without breaching professional boundaries, stopping only to eat, and for bathroom breaks. Now that we’d finished, I felt like I’d run a marathon!

“I’ve only just gotten back into the workforce.”

“Okay, that much I’m aware of, but what I want to know is why.”

I stared down at the designer leather couch, and picked at invisible specks of lint. The silence stretched on between us, and from what I knew of Raine, he’d be prepared to wait it out for hours, out of sheer stubbornness.

“I had some things happen.” I swallowed hard around the giant lump that had formed in my throat. “Some really tragic things. I couldn’t... I just needed some time.” Closing my eyes, I swiped at the tears rolling down my cheeks. How fucking humiliating.

“What things?” I looked across at him again, as he sat perched on the edge of his desk. He hadn’t moved, and made no motion to comfort me, but was regarding me with somewhat detached curiosity. I’d almost expected scorn or derision—he didn’t come across as the most caring person—and it definitely wasn’t that, but it wasn’t