Page 9 of Dancing with the Enemy

Then… he saidthat.

The thing about me kneeling for him. About me begging. Those words hit me like a blow to the stomach. And I guess they broke something inside me, made me flinch and lash out, but not because I was repulsed. Not at all.

But because it’strue.

Holy hell.

How many times have I pictured exactly that while laying in bed at night? Kneeling for my arch rival and begging for a taste?How many times have I longed to surrender, to toss our power struggle away completely, to give myself over to Jude Jenkins and let him do whatever he wants to me? How many freaking times have I got myself off to that thought, my fingers moving busily under the covers?

Too many to count.

And it’s like he peeled back my layers and shone a spotlight on my darkest, shadiest corners. My secret wishes and fears. My shame. Like Judeseesme, even in this, and I can’t stand it. It’s too much, too raw, too painful.

Jude Jenkins sees too much for his own good.

Because if we ever didthat… if we acted out those secret daydreams, shedding our rivalry to become something more… that would require so much trust. Unconditional faith. And how could we ever have that after everything we’ve said and done? After all the traded insults; the constant sparring; the mean little pranks? The cutthroat competition and all the times we’ve said we hate each other?

The baggage between us two is overwhelming. It’s a whole freaking mountain range of emotional suitcases piled high, one that would take every ounce of courage and strength to hike over. And even if we could get past all of that, even if we made it to the summit, there’s the small matter of what I’vejustdone, right here at this party.

The way I just rejected Jude so harshly, his dark blue eyes flared with pain and resentment. The way I did it in front of everyone too, like a complete jerk.

Tugging on my dress, I clear my throat.

So much regret. Music thumps across the rooftop, vibrating my bones, and my tongue is thick when I swallow.

Where did Jude go? Is he okay?

Does hereallyhate me now?

But it’s no use: no matter how much I tug my dress straight, I can still feel my rival’s hands on me, scorching my body through the silk. The ghost of his breath tickles my earlobe, and without his body heat pressed against my front, I shiver.

It’s a cool night. The sun shone hot all day, baking this rooftop, but now the temperature has dropped and the cold breeze slices through my dress and chills my skin. The guys from the Legal department keep staring at me, laughing and whispering together, like we’re all in high school rather than grown adults. Jeez.

My steps are wobbly as I weave back through the crowd, hunting for a pair of indigo eyes. Normally I’m good in heels, but after what just happened, I’m as trembly as a baby deer. There’s a sick feeling in my stomach, this queasy certainty that I’ve gone badly wrong—that I’ve gone too far this time, and cracked this thing between us beyond repair.

Sure, Jude was kind of a dick. But I can’t pretend to be shocked—can’t act like we’re just regular coworkers and he said something awful. The fact is we’ve been dancing around each other foryears,stewing in sexual tension, and he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. If I’m honest with myself, Ilikedit. I liked when he spoke to me like that, all husky and heated.

Oh, god.

What if he won’t look at me on Monday?

Or what if he does, but he’s all cold and distant?

Shit, what if Jude Jenkins won’t tease me anymore? What if he treats me like everyone else, with polite professionalism?

I’m gonna throw up.

“There you are.” Lucy appears at my side, worry pinching her forehead. If she weren’t my best friend I’d barely recognize her tonight, because gone is the cardigan and glasses and her neat auburn bun. Instead, my curvy bestie looks like a movie star. Her hair spills over her shoulder in glorious waves, and herred dress accentuates her hourglass figure. All around us, our coworkers do double-takes, squinting as they try to place Lucy as the mouse from the Accounts department. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” My throat is drier than the Sahara, but I’m not about to ruin Lucy’s night too with my drama. Not when she dressed up likethis, and somehow landed a date with the company heartthrob. Speaking of which… “Where’s Darius?”

The blush that crawls up Lucy’s chest can’t be fake. Her smile is wobbly. “He’s getting us drinks.”

I force a smile. “That’s sweet. Are you gonna tell me how you two wound up dating?”

To my surprise, Lucy’s shoulders slump, and she won’t meet my eye. “We’re not… that is, tonight is more of, um…”

The band finishes one song and strikes up the next. Someone shrieks with laughter nearby, and the mist from the swimming pool snakes between our bare legs.

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