Page 61 of Steamy Ever After

“No problem. You just tell me where to go.” The door shuts hard and firm, both men suddenly gone, the door on the other side of the car opening a second later, Fin sliding in beside me with ease.

It’s then that I notice he doesn’t have any luggage with him either, and I comment on it. “You don’t have any bags?”

“I have a place here. A place in Los Angeles. There’s usually no need,” he explains before changing the topic. “Are you going to the hotel?”

I nod. He knows where I’m staying because I gave him my information earlier so he can pick me up tomorrow evening. He instructs the driver where to drop me, then turns his attention back to me. “Sure you don’t want to do dinner tonight?”

One corner of my mouth lifts, but I shake my head. “No. I need a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.” I point my finger at him. “And don’t try to change the subject,” I scoff. “Mister ‘I have a place in NY and LA and I don’t need luggage’, but I’m going to try to pretend I’m not rich.’”

“I never said I wasn’t rich,” he states. “You made the assumption I was, and I didn’t dispute it.” He squints as he continues to assess me, scooting a little closer, his voice low when he continues. “Why, does it bother you that I am?”

“No.” I purse my lips, my perusal of him blatant. “It’s just not fair that you’re this damn good looking and rich.”

His head falls back as laughter erupts from deep in his chest, amusement lighting up his eyes as they find their way back to mine. “Some guys get all the luck, I guess.”

“I guess,” I muse, my focus shifting to his full lips before tracking a slow trail up to his gorgeous green irises.

“You really need to stop looking at me like that.” His voice grows even lower, a slight growl to its edge, as he leans closer.

“Like what?” I whisper, his face a breath from mine.

My eyes flutter shut as his whiskered cheek presses against my smooth one, his breath hot in my ear as he speaks. “Like you want me to kiss you.” His nose ruffles against my hair, loose strands drifting toward him as he inhales, humming when he exhales. “Roses.” His lips trail over my skin, up the edge of my face before leaving a soft kiss on my forehead. My eyes flicker as he leans back, his gaze locking with mine. “If I kiss you now, I won’t stop.”

“So?” I mutter, desperate to feel his lips on mine. “I’m not saying stop.”

“And I don’t want you to.” He slides away from me but keeps a hand on my bare thigh. “Which is why I don’t mind waiting until tomorrow.”

I can’t help the frown that I know mars my expression, but I just don’t care. I’ve spent over six hours next to this man, this demi-god, and Jesus, he has me hot and bothered. I’m not giving up without a little bit of a fight. “We don’t have to.”

He answers on a low chuckle. “We do. For the sake of your interview.” He leans forward again, his hand sliding up my thigh until it stops just below the seam of my very short shorts. “Because, Chloe, once I start, it’s going to last a very, very long time, and I don’t want to be the blame for you not looking rested at your interview.”

I shift my eyes to his, my tongue swiping across my lips, dry from the short, quick breaths leaving them, and nod. He responds by cocking one side of his tempting mouth into a devilish grin, his fingers drifting like a feather down the length of my leg before they lift off my skin. He shifts back just as the driver pulls up in front of my hotel.

Sweet holy mother of God, I think I just came. Thank goodness my luggage is getting delivered tonight because I definitely need to change my panties.

LOSING ALTITUDE

Itake one last look in the mirror, adjust the cuff on my sleeve under my jacket, then stroll out of my room, through the hotel, and into a waiting car. This is it. The interview I’ve waited my entire career for. What I’ve been working toward for the last twelve years. Today, it either pays off, or I go back to Los Angeles with my tail between my legs and keep on fighting the fight.

When the driver pulls up in front of the address, my eyes stare wide-eyed at the building towering over us. We have some tall buildings in Los Angeles, but none compare to the structures lining the streets of this city. I step onto the sidewalk, thanking the driver who’s holding the door open for me. “Go in through those doors, miss, and tell the front desk who you’re here to see. They’ll take care of you from there.”

I do as he instructs, taking a fortifying gulp of courage as I approach the man standing behind the large counter. “Good morning. Chloe Adams for an interview with Harrison, Harrison & Watkins.”

“Of course, Ms. Adams.” The gentleman motions to a ledger. “If you can just sign here, and I’ll need to see a form of identification.”

After the verification preliminaries, I’m given a temporary identification badge and escorted to an elevator that whisks me to the sixty-fifth floor. I know from researching the company that the law office occupies floors sixty to sixty-five. I also know that only the founding and senior partners occupy the top, makes things a whole lot scarier. “You got this. You got this,” I murmur to myself over and over, not stopping until the doors slide open.

“Ms. Adams.” A sharp dressed woman is waiting in the wings as I step out of the elevator, startling me when she speaks. She strides in my direction, her hand flying up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Please, its fine.” I laugh, trying to dismiss the moment. “I just didn’t see you. Let’s try this again.” I extend my hand. “Chloe Adams. Nice to meet you.”

“Gina Crosby.” She clutches my fingers for only a moment then releases them. “I’m the executive assistant to Mr. Harrison.” She pauses and looks my way as she leads me to an office. “Jefferson, not Griffin.” She shakes her head, waving a hand in the air. “It can be so confusing having father and son on the same floor.” She stops in front of a conference room then turns to me. “Your meeting will be held in here.”

She opens the door, holding it wide for me to enter. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” She watches as I pull out one of the cushioned leather chairs, and then as I lower myself into it, nods once I’m seated. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water?”

I smile politely. “No, thank you, Ms. Crosby.”

“Very good.” She smiles back at me. “I’ll let Mr. Peters know you’re here. He shouldn’t be long.” She turns on her heel and strides away before I can reply.

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