Page 41 of Drunk on You

Julian shocks me by lifting me into his arms and carrying me over to the couch. He sets me on his lap and wipes my tears.

“Ana,” he murmurs, using the name only my mom has ever called me, “I know you think your dad was disappointed and ashamed, and he might’ve said those words out of anger, but I listened to him talk about you for years, and I swear, he was—and is—so damn proud of you.”

“Yet he didn’t want me to work for him,” I whisper, trying to get ahold of my emotions.

“Did he actually say that, or did you assume it?”

“I was supposed to work for him after graduation, but after my mom died, I was devastated and told him it was best if I left, that I needed to get away from here for a little while. I needed time to grieve. I thought he would ask me to stay, but instead, he agreed and let me go. And not once over the years has he asked me to come back.”

Julian nods in understanding. “I’m sorry about the poster, but it’s the only one. I hung it up right before you got in, knowing you’d go straight there and see it. I never intended for anyone but you to see it.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry about the gay porn. I would never try to risk your reputation. It was a stupid, thoughtless prank.”

“Yeah, well, you got me good,” he says with a small smile. “Your dad was not thrilled that his future son-in-law had chosen to watch gay porn on the company laptop.”

“Oh God,” I groan. “I’ll tell my dad what I did.”

“It’s all good, Red,” he says. “But just for the record, the only thing I’ve been getting off to lately are thoughts of you.”

He shifts us slightly, and it’s then I realize I’m straddling his lap, and because I’m wearing a pencil skirt, it’s ridden up my thighs, making it so my thin panties are rubbing against Julian’s groin. We both glance down at the same time, and when he looks up at me, our gazes clashing, the molten desire in his eyes is evident.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” I breathe, the heat between us so hot that it’s damn near stifling.

“All the fucking time,” he admits. “And your little skinny-dipping stunt didn’t help.”

Instinctively, I run my hands up his torso, stopping where his tie rests. With my eyes locked with his, I undo the knot and then unbutton the first few buttons, exposing a spattering of chest hair.

I lean in and press an open-mouthed kiss to the top of his pec, and he releases a soft groan. So, I give him another kiss, this time to his clavicle. He moans again. I shift slightly so I can press a kiss to his neck when there’s a knock on his door, followed by someone walking in.

“Oh shit. Sorry!” Dad says, quickly closing the door behind him and effectively ending the moment.

I climb off Julian, and we both take a second to catch our breaths. Technically, nothing happened, yet between his confession and my mouth on his flesh, it feels like the complete opposite.

“I’d better go see what he needs,” Julian says, retying his tie as he stands. He walks over to his chair and puts his jacket back on and then glances at me. “I know we’re both going for the same position, but I don’t want what happened today to happen again. No more dirty play, Red. If I get this position, it will be because I earned it, not because I stepped on you to get there.”

“And what if I get it?” I ask, standing.

“Then, I hope you’ll keep me around because from what I’ve seen so far, you’ll be an asset to this company, and I look forward to working with you in the future.”

My heart swells at his words, at being told for the first time by someone that I’m an asset and not a complete fuckup.

“Now, I need to ask you something,” he says, walking over to me and resting his hand on my hip. “Where do we stand?”

I think about his question for a moment. Had my dad not walked in, I’m almost positive I would’ve had sex with him right here on his couch in his office. I’m attracted to him, and he’s made it clear he feels the same way.

But at the end of the day, could we get past one of us getting the CEO position while the other person doesn’t? I don’t know. What I do know is that I could fall for this man. I’ve never felt this way before, and that scares the shit out of me.

“We’re okay,” I say vaguely, hoping he’ll take that answer for now.

Of course, he doesn’t. “And what does that mean, Ana?”

The shortening of my name causes my stomach to do a flip-flop. My mom was the only one to call me Ana, growing up. My dad hated it, said it sounded plain and that Anastasia sounded professional and important, but she disagreed, saying she loved it because Ana felt softer and more personal. I haven’t heard that name since my mom died, and for some reason, when he says it, it sounds intimate. Like he sees beneath the surface, the same way my mom did.

I want to tell him that I want more and to see where things could go between us, but I’m so overwhelmed by my mixture of emotions that I don’t know how to word what I want to say.

As if he can sense my inner turmoil, he smiles softly. “Okay,” he says. “I get it. You need more time. But just tell me this. Could you see yourself with a man like me?”

“These days, you’re the only man I see.”

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