Page 104 of The Wildest One
I went inside, keeping the light off, and I held the door open just wide enough to see who was coming down the hallway. The sound of Jolie’s heels was the first sign of her; the scent of her was the second. Once I made sure she was alone, that no one else had entered the hallway from either side, I waited until she was within reach, and I slipped my arm around her.
She gasped, “What the fuck?” as I pulled her into the office.
I immediately flicked on the light so she knew it was me.
“What in the hell?!” She banged her fist against my chest.
I laughed.
“It’s not funny, Beck. You just scared the shit out of me. I swear, I just lost ten years of my life.”
My hand went to the door, directly above her head, where she stood. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just need to be alone with you.”
She scanned my eyes. “What are you doing?”
I had her right where I wanted her. And, fuck me, she looked gorgeous, wearing a tight black skirt that went all the way to her ankles and a shirt that ended above her waist, giving just the tiniest peek of her navel.
“In here, there’s no phone that can ring and interrupt us. There’s no camera crew that’s about to walk in. We’re alone, unlike most of the elevator rides we’ve recently taken together.” My hand moved higher on the door, and I leaned toward her. “So, the only person who can stop this from happening is you.”
She looked so small and petite against the entrance, her hair spread out like she was lying on my pillow. “Stop what from happening?”
“What I’ve been dreaming about doing for fucking weeks.” My other hand went to her side, and my face dipped into her neck. I hesitated for just a second, listening to her breathe before I kissed the soft skin below her ear. “I fucking need you, Jolie?—”
“I can’t.” Her hand went to my chest again. It didn’t push—it was flat—but there was strength in her fingers.
“Can’t?” I kissed lower, toward the base of her neck.
“Yes, can’t. You … have to stop.”
I pulled my face out and looked at her, my hand dropping into the air. “You want me to … stop?”
She said nothing.
“Jolie, what the fuck is going on? We’ve been at this game for weeks. You want me to flirt with you, and you flirt back. Younever stop looking at me. I feel your eyes on me at practice, in the gym, anytime I’m around you—even tonight at this club. And suddenly, you don’t want me?”
There was emotion in her eyes. She was fighting it. I could see it.
“It’s my dad.”
“He knows?”
Her head shook against the door. “No. But he said something to me while we were watching the game in our box.”
“What the hell did he say?”
She rubbed her lips together, the whites of her eyes turning red. “He said, ‘I want you to always maintain a professional front, especially with the position you have.’”
“And you think that applied to us?”
“I think that applies to everything, including us.”
My fucking blood pressure was skyrocketing.
“Are you telling me your father is the only thing that’s stopping you from being with me?” My hand, pressed against the wooden door, balled into a fist. “That if your father knew about us and he approved, you would be mine?”
“Yes.”
The anger was wrapping its way around my fucking throat, and I turned around and went deeper into the office.
