Page 60 of Craving the Player

Women shouldn’tneed to sleep their way to the top of anything, let alone ajob. Every feminist bone in my body is snapping right now while trying to convince me to throw two middle fingers into the air and scream fuck you! It’swhat Ishould do, right?

The boardroom is silent, everyone either staring at me or pretending they're not while they are. It’sbrief, subtle ficks of their eyes or full-blown stares. Nothing in between. And as soon as Clark dismisses the meeting, promising to set something up for the members of the Toronto team this week to discuss the job, there isn’tamoving limb in the room.

Ifeel like the walls are closing in on me. The longer Istay here, facing more judgment than ever before, the harder it is to breathe. The panic in my chest has my breath catching with every inhale. Istart to cough, feeling atightening in my lungs as they beg for more oxygen, but as Ifumble out of my seat on wobbly knees, Iignore it.

Need to get out of here. Need to breathe.

Grasping at my chest, Isprint to the door and shove it open, the cold air on my face sticking to tears that Ididn’tknow were there. My fingers fumble in my pocket until they grip my phone, pulling it out as Idial the number of the only person Ineed right now.

With ashaky hand, Ilift the phone to my cheek and listen to the dial tone. Ibrace myself along adark, quiet hallway and choke back asob.

“Well if it isn’tmy favourite girl. What do Iowe the honour?”

Braden’svoice is like awrecking ball, smashing apart the last remaining columns holding me up as Icrumble. Ican feel the tears streaming down my face, scorching the skin where they fall.

“Baby,” he whispers, and Ihear something like protectiveness in his voice. It settles down on me like aweighted blanket, comforting me in asmall way that Ididn’tthink was possible. “Where are you? I’mcoming to get you.”

My head falls to the wall behind me as Iplace ahand over my mouth and try to silence my cries, suddenly overwhelmed with shame. My next words come out watery and weak. “Work. Taylor Marketing. It’sdowntown. I’min adark hallway on the third floor. ”

Ihear him shout something to someone and then the slamming of adoor before he speaks again. “I’mon my way, sweetheart, and I’mgoing to stay on the phone with you until Iget there. You don’thave to say anything if you don’twant to, but there’sno way that I’mhanging up this phone knowing how upset you are. Got it?”

Inod, regardless of the fact that he can’tsee me. “Got it.”

The burn in my eyes doesn’tlet up, even when the ridiculousness of the situation starts to settle in. Ishould be embarrassed to have called him, but I’mnot. He won’tjudge me for this, and the need to have him here, holding me against that strong chest of his is enough to ward off anymore of those thoughts.

Inhaling ashaky breath, Islide down the wall, sitting my ass on the cold floor. Iput my phone down on the floor beside me and pull my knees into my chest, tucking my head between them and wrapping my arms around myself until Iform aball. Quiet, subtle sounds come from the phone as Braden drives. I’mnot sure how long Istay there, crying silently into my legs, but by the time my cries have turned into small sniffles, Ihear footsteps thumping down the hall.

Ilift my head slowly, feeling the tense muscles pull, aching from being stuck in the same position for so long. Awatery smile forms on my lips when Isee Braden running towards me, hair disheveled, eyes wild as they roam my face and body, like he’ssearching for even the slightest injury. Ithink he becomes even more worried when he sees that I’mnot physically injured.

Asqueak escapes my dry mouth when he bends down and swiftly lifts me off of the ground, holding me tightly against his chest like he’strying to protect me by shoving me inside of him, someplace nobody can hurt me. My back touches the wall and Iwrap my legs around his waist as he holds me, one arm looped beneath my butt and the other in my hair, his face in my neck.

Ipress my wet face to the soft cotton of his t-shirt and breathe him in, letting the scent of laundry detergent slither under my skin and calm me. We don’tspeak for along time, too busy soaking in each other’scomfort.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Braden’sfinger’stighten in my hair and his nails scratch at my scalp, the sensation making me whimper.

“It’snot as bad as it seems. Ijust . . .” My vocal chords are scratchy and hoarse as Itrail off, unsure of how to describe what really upset me. He probably won’tunderstand why being given such an amazing position pulled this sort of reaction from me, and if the roles were reversed, I’msure that Iwouldn’tunderstand it either. But my pride is too big for me to appreciate it when Iknow that Ihaven’tearned it.

“Idon’tlike hand-outs,” Imutter. “And Iespecially don’tlike them when what’sexpected of me in return is something I’mnot comfortable with.”

Iwhisper acurse under my breath when Braden turns to stone against me, the arm beneath me bulging and beginning to shake. If Ididn’tknow better, Iwould have mistaken his rage for the inability to hold up my weight much longer. Lifting my head, Ilook at him through damp lashes. The way that he glares at the wall behind me has aball of emotion clogging my throat.

“What do you mean by that, Sierra?” His words ache in the worst way, settling deep in my gut. Iswallow thickly while touching his scruffy jaw, overwhelmed with the need to relax him before he does something stupid. Suddenly his cold brown eyes move from the wall to me, pinning me with alook tainted with the desire to punish. “Did somebody say something to you? Fuck. Did somebody touch you? I’ll kill them.” He spits the words like he’sdisgusted by them. Iflinch, and his eyes soften slightly, his grip on my hair loosening.

“Nobody touched me,” Ipromise him, swiping my thumb along his bottom lip. “Iwas handed apromotion. One that I’mcertain Igot because of my boss'sattraction to me. Idon’twant him to expect me to want to owe him for it, but Ithink that he will.”

“He can’thave you. Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it. That pompous prick won’tknow what hit him.”

“Idon’tknow what to do,” Iwhisper, sounding more upset than Iwant to.

“We’ll figure it out. Ipromise. That bastard won’tbe getting anything from you.”

Braden pushes me further against the wall while moving impossibly closer to me, like he needs to reassure himself that I’mreally here. The possessiveness that he’sshowing sags in my stomach before settling between my legs. Itense around him, my thighs beginning to shake.

Embarrassment and shame are two feelings that Ishould be feeling while Iattempt to dry hump Braden in adark hallway at work, tear stains on my cheeks and snot stuck to my nose. But lust and an aching appreciation have taken over, blinding me.

Braden’sface falls in my neck again and he shutters abreath against my skin, thrusting up slowly between my legs. “We need to go home, baby.”

Inod quickly, anxiously, unable to pretend like that’snot exactly what Iwant. “Then take me home.”

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