Page 3 of Kiss Me, Mr. Bridge

“Well?” he asks.

“Erm!”

How did we go from avoiding each other for months to this?

“So.” Amusement dances in his eyes, crinkling the edges. “Why did you turn down over one hundred thousand dollars? Every cent of your student debt would be wiped away. What would that help you do?”

Travel to Europe. See some art galleries and museums. Or the sensible thing would be to rent an apartment by myself, so I don’t have to share.

So, so many things.

“Why me?” I ask the question that’s been lingering on my tongue for months.

His presence fills the room as I wait for his answer. Just looking at him is taking my air. It must be because my chest is rising and falling so rapidly you’d think I was struggling to breathe.

“I find you fascinating. You’re powerful, but I know you want someone to take that power.”

I narrow my eyes and shake my head. “That’s a very incorrect observation. I’m far from powerful, yet crave it.”

All traces of emotion are gone from his face. “You’re mistaken. That’s what is expected of you. Your sister went into the modeling world and you are now expected as the elder sister to be the academic one. The child your father rests all his expectations upon.”

“He just wants his children to be happy.”

“Are you?”

My heart stutters in my chest.Am I?

His head tilts as he draws out my name. “Answer me, Lucia?”

My thighs squeeze together at his tone.

“Yes, Mr. Bridge.”

The corner of his mouth curls like he’s entertained by my answer, or because he knows how he affects me.

“What?” I ask, my tone defensive.

“Nothing.” He stands and walks to the door, resting his back against it.

I laugh. “Did you forget the paperwork I need to look over?”

He doesn’t answer at first. He keeps staring at me as one foot lifts and rests on the door and his hand reaches into his inside jacket pocket.

Behind my desk—the place I feel worthy—I try to slow my rapid heart beat but until he leaves the office, I know I won’t succeed.

I’m intimidated by Mr. Bridge, but also intrigued in equal measure, and when he pushes off the door and steps forward, holding out the paperwork for me, I freeze for a moment.

I reach out to take the paperwork. Our fingers brush and electricity zips from his touch to the end of my toes, and then it flies back up to the apex of my thighs.

My God, this man.

“It’s my sexual needs.”

“What?”

“What I like. What I want you to know before you sign.”

I shake my head, laughing. “I never agreed to this.”

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