Page 8 of Entity

My lips part. Ian’s gaze flickers down to my mouth. My brain stalls out. Then I realize he’s waiting for me to respond. “If you were able to isolate the lower functions,” I say, “to control them as you say, so they never overwhelm the mind… then whatever you’ve created is no longer human. Humans lose control all the time. We think we’re governed by our intellect, but we’re not. We’re barely a step above an animal.”

“We roll in the mud with the beasts,” he says.

“I guess we do.”

Then he leans forward, thumb still on my chin, and kisses me.

It’s wildly unprofessional.

It’s hot as fuck.

I know I should push him away and put a stop to this. It can’t go anywhere; it creates a weird dynamic, he’s twice my age — I even saw it coming and didn’t stop it. But I still want it.

I’ve been wanting to kiss Ian De Leon since I first saw him.

He tastes like whiskey. He kisses like he’s spent years perfecting the art. If he’d slobbered on me, if he’d been desperate and pawed at me, I could have easily cut this short. But he hasn’t. And he doesn’t. He stays exactly where he is, his fingers holding my chin, our knees almost touching.

And even though we’re just kissing, I’m slowly undone. I was already horny for him, but now? I’m four drinks in, and I can barely restrain myself from crawling into Ian’s lap and ripping his shirt open. It’s what I’d normally do in this situation.

But I do have some self-control.Some.

When he makes a soft, low sound in his throat, I almost change my mind and straddle him. But a distant, insistent thought keeps hounding me: this iswork. I’m atwork. This is my boss, no matter what he says about us being “friends.” And I’m acting like my usual fuck-up self.

Ian’s thumb runs slowly along my jaw. It’s the only place he’s touching me, but the sensation is like a live wire to my skin. I lean into the feeling, hating myself for doing so. Hating that when he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to let my tongue in, I eagerly take the invitation. Hating the way my body betrays me, the breathiness, the involuntary moans.

By the time Ian pulls away to end the kiss, I’m wet and thoroughly disgusted with myself.

“Good, Kit,” Ian says, his thumb returning softly to my chin. His pupils are dark. My traitor eyes flit down, and I see that he’s just as turned on as I am. “Good.”

“I probably shouldn’t have let you do that,” I murmur. A massive understatement.

“Why not?” he asks, leaning back, giving me a little space. “You’ve been checking me out all night. If you weren’t so focused on making a good impression, you would have noticed I was checking you out, too. That little skirt is incredibly fucking sexy.” He lets his gaze rake over me slowly. I revel in it. “Are we wrong for feeling these things?” he continues. “Are we not allowed to act on them?”

I take a steadying breath. It’s not like I’ve never made out with an authority figure before. And I’ll only be here for three days. What could possibly go wrong in that time? “Just promise you won’t fire me for kissing you.”

“I kissedyou, Kit.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I told you, I’m not your boss. We’re friends. I wasn’t fucking with you. We’re getting to know each other. I’m getting to know you. Am I supposed to let just anyone write this book for me?”

“Right,” I say. “No, totally.”

He stands, looming over me, impossibly sexy. His shirt hangs open, his thick black hair now slightly more mussed from the kiss. Was I grabbing his hair? I don’t remember. I must have been. My slut hands.

He smiles, and his gaze is on fire. “Get your bag. I’ll take you to your room.”

As I stand and retrieve my duffle from the closet, following him up a black spiral staircase, I allow the worst version of myself to come out. I wonder what he’d do if I tried to take him to bed. Would he refuse? Of course he wouldn’t. Men never do. And he’s still hard. He’d be such an easy lay, and I can see that hehas plenty to work with. We’ve already kissed. Would fucking be so much worse?

I’m gnawing at my lip with anticipation as Ian leads me to a large, clean guest room. A window looks out onto the night, the steady rain. He turns on the lights, ushering me in. “Your home for the next few days.”

I turn to face him. He’s leaning against the door frame, hair hanging over his forehead, chest hair on full display, erection also on full display. My mouth waters. I say nothing.

“Good night, Kit.”

I have about two seconds to decide what kind of idiot to be.

He straightens and starts to turn.

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