Page 69 of A Break in Communications

“Larson’s finished,” I said. “Invoice is closed and everything’s in Operations’ hands.”

She looked up from where she had her laptop on the other side of my desk, and after a second, she looked back down, tapped a few more times, and I saw her with that signature shift-enter tap to send an email, and she shut the laptop, looking at me. “So the event’s ready, is what you’re telling me,” she said.

“Ready as it’ll ever be,” I said. “When was the last time we were ahead of task on something in this office?”

“Probably only when the inimitable Anna Preston is in charge of something. Or better yet, her mortal enemy Lucy Masters.”

“Uh-huh. Well, the latter will remain to be seen, because this has been my project.”

She smiled slyly, standing up and pushing her laptop aside, and I got a nervous flutter in my chest as she walked around to my side of the desk, leaning against the dark wood right in front of me. “So eager to get rid of me, Preston?”

I turned to the window, pretending to be very busy with the sight of the city at night, lights in windows glowing across the streets below us like stars in the sky. “No… perish the thought. Don’t think I could live without Lucy Masters in my life, sitting on my desk.” I said it dry, sarcasm dripping from every word, even though I couldn’t have meant it more. Which only terrified me a little.

Didn’t give Lucy a second’s pause, though. She slid up to sit on the desk, hooking her shoe on the arm of my chair and rolling me closer. I gulped at the sudden movement—being taken and pulled in, a brief release of control that shook my cool. “You can try to play it like you don’t mean it,” she said, her voice a low, playful whisper. “I guess we can all just play along with that, can’t we, Preston? I mean, we play along with a charade so well…”

I didn’t need the veiled reference to the weekend at my family’s house. Or all the things we did there. Or maybe I did need it and I just didn’t want to admit it. I wasn’t thinking about that. I looked away. “What are you still hanging around for, anyway? Pretty sure our work’s wrapped for the day.”

“I’ll go if you tell me to,” she said, practically purring. I huffed, pulling into myself, focused squarely on the window.

“Always so difficult…”

“If that’s what you consider difficult, I don’t know how you’re so good at your job, darling. Just one little word and I’ll go. Wouldn’t be that hard to say it, would it?”

Sure shouldn’t have been. But I couldn’t make my throat form that sound. I bit my lip without realizing it. “What are you after this time, Lucy? I’m not in the position formally enough yet to oversee whether you get a raise.”

She laughed, and a shiver raced down my spine when she laid her fingers gently on my jaw, turning my head to face her. “I think you know what I want,Anna.”

My insides twisted. Was I really supposed to do this? Push her away and tell her we couldn’t? My body ached for her as much as my heart did. And not just this time, but every time she came into my office ever after if I actually did get this promotion?

I didn’t have that kind of strength… not when Lucy cupped her fingers into my jaw, tilting me up to meet her eyes.

“You just have to tell me that you want it too,” she whispered, and I swallowed, hard, my face burning, body prickling.

“Lucy… you know this isn’t…”

“Just said it yourself, you’re not in the position formally enough to have any conflicts of interest.” She licked her lips, and I let out a soft noise in my throat.

“And—and after that?”

She smiled wider. “This isn’t after that. This is now. And right now… I want you to stand up from that chair.”

I didn’t even think about it—my body acted for me, and I stood up, feeling my legs prickling with awareness, pantyhose suddenly feeling coarse against my skin. “Lucy…” I said, trying for a warning tone, but it came out weak. She bit her lip, her gaze hungry as she dragged it slowly down over my body and back up to me.

“Turn around,” she said, voice murky. I did—didn’t think about it. Didn’t have any say in the matter. I turned around, slowly, arching my back without meaning to, and Lucy made an appreciative noise behind me. “Good girl, Anna.”

“Lucy—” I didn’t mean to say it, just—the spike of heat inside me when she said that, it ripped itself up out of me, maybe intended as a protestation but coming out as a plea. A plea that she answered, putting her hands on my sides, under my jacket and feeling where my shirt was tucked into my skirt, and down to hold me by the hips.

She stood up, slipping off the desk, and I felt her press up against me from behind, her hands slipping around to my front. I felt heat surge up through me, speckles at the edge of my vision, as my mind replayed visions of that same movement back at my family’s house…

“You’re so beautiful, Anna,” she whispered. “Tell me you want this.”

“I—I can’t… we shouldn’t,” I pleaded, but I was mostly pleading with myself and losing against the overwhelming awareness of Lucy’s hands on my body.

“I didn’t ask whether we should,” she whispered in my ear, her voice barely a breath but enough to fill my whole mind. “I asked whether you want this. Tell me, Anna.”

My eyes fluttered shut, and I heard myself let out a meek sound of need, and heat blossomed through me when I heard myself say, “I do… want this…”

“Good girl.” She turned me around to face her, and I lost my breath when she kissed me, lips crashing up against mine, capturing me in a swell of heat.

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