Page 38 of Tell Me What You Want

“Jude ...”

“Miss Flores to you, if you don’t mind.”

He gives me his usual caustic expression; the tension is once more thick enough to cut.

“Come here, Miss Flores.”

“No.”

“Come here.”

“What do you want?” I demand.

“Come here, please,” he mutters between clenched teeth. His sourness remains unchanged.

I sigh and take a step forward. His demeanor demands I step closer, but I refuse to be intimidated.

“Mr.Zimmerman, I’m not coming any closer. Fire me if that’s what you need to do to continue feeling like the King of the Universe.”

He stands up from the desk. He takes two steps toward me, and I take one back. He snorts and grabs my arm, pulling me toward the archive room. He jerks me inside, and once in the intimacy of that room, he takes my head in his hands, brings me to him, and kisses me with gusto.

He pushes me against the file cabinets, and when he feels that my body can’t back up any more, he pulls away.

“I could barely sleep thinking about you and what you might have done with that guy last night,” he confesses.

I’m flabbergasted. “But I didn’t do anything,” I say in a thin voice.

Eric presses his hips to me, and I feel his erection.

“He grabbed you by the waist. You let him kiss you, and you went into the men’s room with him. How can you say you didn’t do anything?” he says, looking desperate. “I was just outside. I saw the whole thing through the window.”

Crazy because of what he’s making me feel with his proximity and by what he’s saying, I respond, “I do with my body and my life whatever I please, Mr.Zimmerman.”

I shove him off and pull away.

“I’m not one of those little dolls I suppose you’re used to ordering about. Don’t touch me again or ...”

“Or?” he asks hoarsely.

“Or I might be capable of anything,” I respond.

His jaw tenses. Then he steps up close to me again. “Jude, you want me as much as I want you. Don’t deny it.”

I don’t respond. I can’t. His immediacy provokes all kinds of sensations in me.

“Are you getting nervous?”

I touch my neck. I’m about to let him have it, when he makes a face at me.

“Don’t scratch, Jude.”

Before I have a chance to move, he leans down and blows on my neck. I close my eyes. My indignation decreases considerably. This was his goal, and he’s scored.

“I’m sorry I made you nervous,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m sorry, sweetness.”

His power is overwhelming. Now he has me where he wants me. I’m such a weakling!

He kisses me. This time, it’s out of desperation. All I can think about is kissing him and letting him kiss me.

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