Page 23 of Submissive Lies

I heard the sharp intake of my breath when he stopped and tapped my finger at the spot on the drawing where the tower was. Shit. I wondered if he heard that. I couldn’t be sure, but if I’d heard it, then I assumed he must have. There was no way he could not have. On top of that, he had to feel the ever so slight trembling in my hand.

“So, if we run it that way, it’ll avoid most foot traffic. No one comes into the booth from that side anyway, right?”

My voice was a little breathy when I answered him. “Uh… yes, um… yeah, that… that makes a lot of sense.” Shit. Even I could hear it.

Oh God, please, no hormones, not right now. Please, goddammit. Not. Now.

He stopped speaking, and for a moment we both stood there. His hand was still holding mine, the gentle pressure of his finger pushing mine into the paper. Grip tightening, his shoulder pressed against mine. His calm, measured breathing filled my ears.

I almost leaned into him.

Jesus Christ, Jen! What the hell are you doing!

He must have noticed. He had to. The man was no fool. After what could only have been a few seconds but seemed far longer, he let go of me, leaning back from the table. I stayed where I was for a moment longer before I straightened. I turned my gaze up to him. He stared back with a look that was both questioning and intrigued. I gulped in a quick breath. One I needed. I was feeling unsteady, and yet the vibrancy of what had just happened had every nerve singing to a tune I’d not sung in a year.

He saw my reaction. The bastard saw it. It was clear in eyes that were brighter now than they’d been a minute ago. Pupils grown larger as they scanned me. Steve’s penetrating gaze was capturing me just as his hand had a moment ago. As I gaped back at him it was clear he fucking knew something had happened. The cocky grin that split his face a second later was all the confirmation I needed.

“So, what do you think, Ms. Boyd? Should we go with my idea?”

His tone spoke volumes. The question might be legit, but the dash of arrogance in the tenor of it had nothing to do with floor pockets, baseplates, or an exhibit on the show floor in Chicago, Illinois. At least that’s the way I was processing it. I was a hot mess. I had not felt this kind of thrill, this level of attraction towards someone in… well, since Thomas. No. No, that was a lie. I hadn’t felt this even with Thomas. Ever. This was different. This was not testing the waters of something new. This was slipping back into something old. Familiar. Given my current disposition and state of mind, my reaction to what Steve had done was not what I’d expected. I should have calmed myself down and slapped on my best Professional Jen expression. Instead, I did the last thing I expected.

I went all in.

I dropped my eyes to the floor and clasped my hands in front of me. Letting a long second pass, I looked up at him from under lowered lashes. His eyes widened at the posture I took, then narrowed. His grin became predatory. That stare was all I needed. It broke me free. For the first time in over a year, I gave in to my true nature, the one I had worked so hard to suppress. I didn’t ease into it. I stomped on the clutch and kicked it into overdrive.

Hooded eyes gazing up at him. Voice soft and demure.

Submissive.

“Yes, sir.”

Yep. I did that. Put that shot right across his fucking bow. And as much as one part of me soared to feeling that thrill once again, another part hated myself for it even more.

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