Page 29 of Negotiation Tactics

“I knoooooow.” He stuffs a few fries in his mouth, blowing after the fact. “Oh, shit! Hot! Their food is really good, but not many people know about this place.”

I arch an eyebrow, going for another bite. “It was full.”

He waves me in dismissal. “Today is an exception. It’s not usually like this.”

“So, how did you find it then?”

“Well, my mom is a picky eater. Our usual place was closed for a health inspection, so it was either fish again, which would mean I’d have to listen to her rant for half an hour, or try something new.”

No way. This keeps getting crazier by the minute. “My dad is the same! So picky about anything he puts in his mouth!”

He laughs and we slip into a conversation about our parents and how big of a pain in the ass they can be. I’m having a blast discovering how similar we are in that aspect. We share a lot in common, and I’m so glad to finally have someone who understands how hard it is to always have high expectations put on you.

“So, did you like it? London,” he asks when we’ve exhausted the topic of our parents.

I place my fork and knife on top of the now empty plate and slide it to the edge of the table, just like he did before ringing the call button. “It was good. A bit overhyped if you ask me, though.”

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy my time there, but it was mostly just a bigger, crowded version of Portland with shittier weather.

A waiter brings over our ice cream and takes away our plates. Josh looks at me like he can’t believe what I said as he shoves a spoonful of brownie ice cream in his mouth. The way he wraps his lips around the wider tip is downright obscene. I can’t tell if he does it on purpose or not, but it gets my pulse pumping all the same.

“I doubt you stayed holed up in your fancy accommodation the entire time.” His gaze zeroes in on my mouth when I lick clean the salted caramel and pecans goodness off my spoon.

I repeat the action, loving the way he can’t seem to tear his attention away from my lips. It makes me wonder how a salted caramel brownie kiss might taste like. “Fine. The nightlife was great. And some of the parties I went to were quite wild.”

Should I be sharing that? But it’s not like I’ve given him any specifics.

Sparks of curiosity flood those mesmerizing greens, making them twinkle. Whatever he is about to say next, I just know I won’t be able to refuse, good or bad. But I can’t have that, it’s too dangerous, so I do the only thing I can come up with so I can distract my spitfire brat—I scoop a generous amount of caramel ice cream and offer him to try it.

He doesn’t expect it, scrunching his nose like I’m attempting to feed him poison.

“It’s really good,” I encourage him, smiling like a salesman on a mission to make people buy shit they don’t actually need.

Apprehensively, Josh nods. His fingers wrap around my wrist, guiding my hand to his mouth.

I don’t really know what exactly happens after that, but as we both lean in so he can reach and close those full lips around the spoon, something comes over me. Heat flushes out what brain cells I have left functioning, sending my entire body into fight-or-flight mode, and next thing I know, I’m claiming his mouth.

God, it tastes heavenly, like salted chocolate. He makes a surprised sound, but that only gives me a way in. My tongue pushes inside his mouth, greedy as all-consuming hunger for this man turns me into a ravenous beast.

The table between us makes this not as comfortable as I’d like, but I can’t stop the kiss for something so silly. Instead, I lean forward as much as I can, grab the back of his neck and pull him closer to me. He moans indulgently, unleashing an onslaught of tingles all the way to my balls. Our tongues battle from that point on, chasing each other as I map every inch of his mouth. It’s aggressive, it’s dirty, and it’s the best kiss that I’ve ever had.

Shit, what am I gonna do? I want him naked, under me, screaming my name in pleasure as I fuck his tight hole. He’s the forbidden fruit that I can’t have, but I also had to taste him again because if I didn’t, I’d simply lose my mind.

The door on the other side of the patio opens. It’s like a bucket of icy water, snapping me out of the lust-fueled trance. I pull back abruptly, and so does Josh, both of us panting. A lovely hue of red covers his cheeks, and his eyes… Oh god, they are dark and inviting, starving for more.

Fuuuck, I’ll do anything for a repeat. This man has bewitched me with his eyes and body, with the unapologetic attitude.

“I want to talk about my proposal,” he says suddenly, his tone flat and detached.

I lick my lips, drawing his gaze to my mouth. “Are you sure that’s the only thing you want?”

His nostrils flare as annoyance drives away the titillating desire from his face. But the rawness he’s showing me doesn’t last, quickly replaced by a neutral expression that instills a sense of loss inside my chest. “Mr. Devon. Don’t test me. We had an agreement, and I fulfilled my part of it, so it’s time for you to deliver, too.”

Ah, we are back to being just two professionals and won’t talk about our little kiss, I see. My little slip-up must have really pissed him off, even if he seemed just as eager to mouthfuck me.

Schooling my expression, I try to reel in the urge to drag him to the nearest bathroom so I can show him just how much I hate being bossed around. “Fine. I’m listening. What do you want?”

He steeples his hands. “No pay cuts, period. But I know you are still technically just a Junior Partner and don’t have the power to stop them.”

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