Page 8 of Mind

After long minutes, he pulls away. I chase his lips, plucking at the bottom one to get at that last bit of flesh before it is gone. Chase groans and cups my ass grinding his pelvis into my belly. I can clearly feel the hard ridge of his excitement through the thin fabric. Moisture fills the space between my thighs making my sex feel heavy and needy. I moan without regard to who may be watching, as he drags his lips along my neck.

“Never scare me like that again.” I nod. “Promise me,” he says with a firm clench of my ass.

I am wallowing in a pool of lust, barely able to keep my feet on the ground, though the honesty in his request ruffles me, bringing me back to the present. “I promise,” I say, holding him tight, trying to make him believe that I’d never willingly frighten him.

He separates his body from mine, bringing me a full arm’s length away but I’m still held at the biceps. “Now, enjoy lunch with your friend. And stop looking at me like that, or I’ll fuck you against this column.”

I gasp. “You wouldn’t dare...”

“My building, my woman. Don’t test me.” And right then, I knew he wasn’t joking. The man did what he wanted, when he wanted, and little would prevent him from getting his way. That power draws me in and holds me captive, and I never want to be free of the way he makes me feel.

“I really am sorry.” His tie is askew so I reach up to adjust it and slip it back in place, tucking it perfectly under his vest. God, the man is sex personified. It takes mammoth effort not to crawl up his body and cling for dear life.

He tips my chin up to meet his gaze. “I know. Just please be careful. Text me when you’re back.”

I laugh. “I’m sure Austin, or Jack, or even the building security guard will tell you when I return.”

He snaps his fingers at Austin and waves him over. I hate it when he does that. It seems like he’s calling over a dog.

“Chase, don’t snap at people. Your staff are not dogs or children.”

His gaze darts to mine. He takes a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly. Then on his exhale, his eyes soften, turning impossibly kind. “You’re right. I’ll work on it.” His lips crook into the sexy curve.

I lean up and kiss the edge of that lovely curve. “Thank you, baby. Love you.”

“Love you. But still want to hear personally from my fiancée when you return.” He loves calling me his fiancée. It seems as if he finds every reason possible to plop it into conversation. I wonder briefly if it makes it more real for him. Austin makes it to our side, and I look at him guiltily. Anyone can tell he’s angry, but he has too much class to say anything. That or he fears what Chase will say.

“Austin. Gillian and Mr. Parks are going to lunch. Jack will drive. Stay close. And don’t let my love slip through your fingers again.” Chase is going easy on him. This experience is considered a warning. If I leave his side again, Chase will fire him. Every facet of my being is swimming with remorse. The tension pours off Austin as the two men share a stare off.

“Yes, sir.” Austin answers simply.

After a quick kiss goodbye from Chase, Austin leads me to the car where Phillip has waited patiently. Before I get in, I stop and search Austin’s face. He’s having trouble looking me directly in the eyes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was childish and could have cost you your job.” I look down, the shame controlling my mood. He touches my elbow. The gesture is friendly, meant to make a point.

Finally, I woman up and meet his hazel eyes. “If I may say so, screw the job, Ma’am. That little act could have cost you your life. Don’t do it again,” he warns, his eyes pleading.

“I won’t.” I mean it. If Austin has to stick to me like glue until this stalker business is over with, so be it. Either way, I have a feeling Austin will be around for a long time. Chase is unlikely to let me roam freely ever again. He doesn’t like the idea of the paparazzi getting close, let alone some admirer with a small vocabulary and a pension for dead flowers.

Crawling into the car, I lean my head back with a sigh.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook with me, pretty girl. You’re in big trouble. Big. Huge!” Phillip spreads his arms wide as I roll my eyes and cross my arms defensively.

“Yeah, yeah, get in line.”

Chapter 3

Gillian

Lunch with Phillip is excruciating. He spends the entire hour droning on and on about how I need to be more careful, and shouldn’t have attempted to escape Austin’s watch. The most surprising thing is how all of a sudden, my best friend is now enamored with my fiancé. Ultimately, we end lunch with a nod and a wave instead of our normal bear hug and snuggle. The entire experience has me in a sour mood now that I’ve had the day to think it through. What other woman has to deal with so many “great protectors” hovering over her every move? No one, that’s who.

When Chase enters the master bedroom, I’m sprawled out on the bed, shoes kicked off, skirt in a heap on the floor wearing only a beige silk blouse and my undergarments. The ceiling is the most interesting thing in the room as I stare up, trying to put the pieces of my day back together. It’s impossible. The day has been shit and I’m feeling very sorry for myself.

I try not to look at Chase although I can feel his presence as keenly as a breeze blowing against my hair. He’s prowling, and I know his eyes are all over me. Technically, I should still be miffed by his behavior outside the elevators, but it only left me with a slow burning ache between my legs and a steady rosiness to my cheeks. A couple times today I was asked if I was too warm or coming down with something. When Austin asked in the elevator on the ride up, I’d about had it. I was ready to scream to the heavens or to anyone who would listen that I was turned on and to back the fuck off! The only thing that could put a salve to this wound was a six foot three Superman look-a-like who, right at this moment, was stripping off his tie and blazer, eyes scanning me from head to toe.

“Tired?” he asks cryptically.

“No. Hot.” The words drip from my lips, sounding more like a growl than an answer.

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