Page 22 of The Shadow

“Wow.” There is a beautiful view of the skyline from his living room window. He appears next to me, his hand holding out a glass of wine toward me. We both stand there, sipping our wine as we look out over the city.

“How would you feel about tacos?”

My laugh is more of a snort into my glass. “Is that the only meal you know how to make? Your go-to for the ladies?” I don’t know why I say it; it sounds childish, and I instantly feel silly for bringing up other women again.

“No to both questions. No way I could top the ones from this afternoon anyway.”

“Those were great.”

The warmth from the front of his chest radiates against my back, my body brushing against his accidentally.

“Mmm, all this taco talk is making my mouth water.” The change in the tenor of his voice laces the silly little comment with heavy innuendo.

“What are you in the mood for?”

Instantly, the air between us changes. I tilt my head up and back slightly to gauge his expression. He’s already looking down at me. And his expression says it all.

He reaches around my body, gently taking my glass from my hand and placing them both on the coffee table behind him. My eyes stay on him, watching as he turns back to me. His hand is on my waist, pulling me toward him before he walks us back against the window. His other hand comes out to stop me from crashing against it.

“Your mouth.” He brings his hand to my face, his thumb pressing softly against my lower lip as he drags it down just slightly. He’s completely lost in his own movements. He presses his thumb past the entrance of my lips just enough that I relax my jaw so that my teeth graze his skin.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier.” He drags his thumb down my lip, to my chin, and then to the front of my throat slowly.

“Why?”

“Because all I can think about it is doing it again.” His lips hover over mine so close.

My mind is blank. I want to be the siren, the temptress who knows what to say to drive him wild. To know how to confidently run my fingers over his chest while I whisper the naughty things I wish he’d do to me, but I’ve got nothing.

“Okay,” I say timidly but he doesn’t stop.

“I want to taste you.” His fingers start to curl against my body and he closes his eyes, his jaw clenching. “To drown in you, but I know if I start—I won’t be able to stop.”

My body ignites. Everything in me is praying he doesn’t stop. My hands rest flat against the window behind me as his body trembles from holding himself back. His hand squeezes me tighter, the other still against my neck.

Yes! Yes, take me!

I want to scream but nothing comes out. I’m frozen. His eyes open and meet mine and I’m worried I’ve broken the spell so I lean forward, but he presses against my throat, not allowing me to go any farther.

His hand drops from my waist, down to my hand, and he grabs it to pull it above my head before repeating the process with the other. Both of my hands are now pinned above me in one of his.

“Look at me.” His voice is soft but commanding. “You’re not ready for a man like me.”

What kind of man? Not ready how?

A dozen other questions race through my mind but they don’t make it out of my mouth. Instead, he releases my hands and steps back from me. He reaches for our wineglasses and hands mine back to me. We stand there in silence, sipping our wine as we overlook the city.

“What was it about him?”

I turn to look at him, confused by the question at first, then I quickly turn back toward the window when I realize what he’s asking.

“I don’t think it was about him actually.” Both of my hands hold my glass as I stare down into it, admitting that to myself and aloud for the first time. My exhale is shaky. “I’m not a very confident person, outside of my abilities with work. I’ve always been a bit more quiet and reserved so when someone like that—powerful and good-looking—pursued me the way he did…” I shrug, embarrassed at how naive I must sound.

“Were you in love with him?”

“No!” I turn to look at him. “Not at all. It wasn’t like that. He would flirt with me, make it very obvious he was attracted to me, or at least he pretended to be anyway, and I fell for it. I knew it was wrong. He was my boss, but he told me it was okay, and since I was moving into a new position soon that wasn’t reporting directly to him, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Why do you think he was pretending?”

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