Page 8 of Crush

“Black tie.” And I knew it didn’t clash with Jonny’s seventieth birthday bash as I’d already checked the dates myself.

My mouth went dry as Amber started to fan her neck with the collar of her blouse, pulling it back and forth away from the skin of her throat. Her necklace ran into the valley of her breasts like an arrow. The flash of lace from her red bra shot straight to my dick and I gritted my teeth,hatingthat weakness. Red lace, bloody hell. It was my favourite colour, what could I say?

Clearing my throat, I went for the jugular. “Good. And whilst we’re talking about dress codes, we need to discuss what you wear to work,” I said, turning my nose up.

She folded her arms and shot me a death glare. “What about it?”

I motioned towards her body with one hand. “You’re working on a building site. You may want to wear something less trashy.”

And that did it. Temper flared across her face. “Trashy, I’m in business dress, not that you’d know whatthatlooks like.”

Amber took a deep breath and then went for round two, eyeing my body.

“Youmight want to rethink those shirts,” she sniggered, motioning towards my torso with a flick of her bright orange head.

I glanced down and straightened my top. “What the hell’s wrong with my shirts?”

Amber wrinkled her cute little nose and the freckles clustered together. “Nothing, if I need someone to chop wood for me. I think you’ll find lumberjack shirts went out about fifteen years ago.”

Yep, there was no doubt about it, the woman was a bitch and I couldn’t rein in my emotions. I felt amused, angry, and turned on at the same time. A messed-up selection of feelings for sure. “Like you’d remember, were you evenbornthen?

A cocky expression twisted her features. “Well, we both knowyouwere and so you should know better, old timer,” she volleyed back with a jut of her chin.

My proud smile dropped and I opened my mouth like a fish but no sound came out. I couldn’t string a sentence. It was like my words had been put in a blender. Her barb had met its mark. I was fast approaching a milestone birthday and was as touchy as fuck about it. Especially when all my younger friends took the piss.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to calm that flare of aggression. Amber’s face said it all; ‘come on, give me your best shot’ and I growled. “You’re such a little bitch.” Moving around her. I had to leave, the desire to either shake her until her teeth rattled or kiss her until my lungs burned was too strong.

“I’lltake that as a compliment,” she mocked as I went to move away.

The look she shot me suggested she’d rather I take it up the arse. “AndI’llbe in my office.” I barked, leaving the cabin, the realisation that she’d won grating on my last fucking nerve.

As I strode into my temporary site office, I almost knocked Annie, my secretary, over as she was coming out of the door.

“Balls,” I snarled in shock. “Sorry.”

Annie was unimpressed, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” she said. Apologising again, I steadied her and hurried past, praying she didn’t notice the hard-on I was sporting in my jeans.

I so needed to get my dick wet if Lady Swift had started to have this effect on me. I’d always thought her attractive but my interactions with her were becoming more sexually suggestive. From my end anyway, Amber appeared to be more in control of that side of herself. Maybe she was frigid? What? I’m a man, I had to blame the woman,that’s what we do.

Once Annie had left the room, I pulled my phone out and thumbed through my contacts, finding Natalie. She was the woman I had a friends-with-benefits arrangement. As the call went to voicemail, I adjusted myself in my jeans. My friend Gabe had also been there and we enjoyed competing for Nat’s affections. I left a message with an offer she couldn’t refuse.

I was a highly sexed individual and clearly needed to get some. My reaction towards sparring with Lady Swift could do one. Either that or I needed some more time in the ring.

I was a member of an underground fighting club. I needed an outlet for my anger regularly. As a teenager, my parents explained that I had been part of twins but that my brother had died during childbirth. I assumed that this was why I had always felt like a part of me was missing and I acted up. I’d never been socially comfortable anyway as a younger child but after that knowledge, it got worse. Self-pity was a bitch. I’d become destructive and fighting in a ring with some rules enabled me to turn that destructive energy into something else. To put it bluntly, the club allowed rich pricks like me to let off steam with each other.

So far, I was undefeated, I had a reputation and scared the shit out of most competitors.

God, I could do with beating the shit out of someone. Although when I’d fit that in with work, my annoying protégé, Jonny’s seventieth and the charity ball was anyone’s guess.

The need for nicotine pulsed through me.

Banging my fist on the desk, making the clutter on there, rattle, I felt annoyed that I’d been pressured into asking Amber to attend the charity ball. Talk about a glutton for punishment. I needed to keep her at arm's length, not drag her closer.

Under normal circumstances, courting danger was part of my DNA, but there was nothing normal aboutthatwoman. I wondered again why her father wanted her at the ball so badly. Maybe her prospective husband was there.

Bottom line; Amber-Leigh Swift and her family had complicated written all over them.

There was no way I wouldeverwrap myself up in that web of bullshit, whatever that was. The woman had issues. And unpicking them wasnevergoing to happen.

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