Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

IF HE HAD to watch Reagan’s goddamn pert ass walk out of his office one more time that day, he was going to lose his shit. He shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair, wincing slightly from the shot of pain that ran up from his groin due to last night’s abuse.

He glared at the door again. She’d walk back through it in about five minutes. Just like she’d done all damn day, torturing his raw cock every time he had to look at her—a reminder of how fucking desperate she made him.

Disgust settled in the pit of his stomach every time he caught a glimpse of her, and it was starting to grate on his last nerve. It was bad enough that he’d had to put on the show of a fucking lifetime today, walking around the office as if he were perfectly fine. But to see her looking as polished and professional as always made him want to put his fist through a wall.

Thinking that that wasn’t the best idea, he decided it was time for him to make a quick exit. If he could pack his shit up and get to the door before she spotted him, maybe this day could end without—

Reagan pushed open the door without knocking and walked inside, her eyes still looking down at an open folder in her arms. “Hey, I was thinking that we could order some takeout or something since it looks like it’ll be a late night.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she looked up. “What?”

Evan just shook his head and bent down to grab his briefcase, laying it on the desk and piling the work he needed to take home inside it.

She raised her brow. “Going somewhere?”

“I don’t think late-night dinner dates at the office are a good idea, do you?”

“No, not usually on Tuesdays, but how about we make an exception just this once?” She gave him a cheeky grin.

“I don’t think so.”

“Evan,” she said, walking to stand directly in front of his desk.

The top of her thighs pressed into the edge of it, and the first thought that went through his mind was that she was at the perfect angle to bend her over and take her from—

“Evan,” she said again, louder this time, causing him to tear his eyes away from the blue, figure-hugging skirt that encased her shapely legs and back up to her eyes. “Deadline. Work. Dinner. The end. What’s the problem?”

Evan shut the briefcase with a resounding click and picked it up off the desk with a little more force than necessary. Then he walked around to where she stood and dared to step in a little closer than one should with their boss.

“The problem is that it’s after hours and you’re here and so am I with all these flat surfaces. Do you think I’ve forgotten what’s under those prim and proper outfits you wear?”

For the first time since the day she’d interviewed him, he thought he caught a flash of attraction in her eyes as she shifted so they were now eye to eye.

“I’d hardly call an evening pouring over numbers and graphs and eating Kung Pao chicken a date, but—”

“I’d call it a tease,” he said, cutting her off. “It’s like waving a red flag in front of me and daring me not to charge.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away, still standing so close to him that he could feel her breath quicken. He wondered what she’d do if he touched her now. If he said exactly what he was thinking. Fuck it.

“Maybe that’s what you want,” he said, his voice low and seductive like a vampire compelling its prey. She wasn’t moving, so he took that as a sign to continue. “Maybe you like the idea of me hiking that tight-as-fuck skirt up your legs, bending you over my desk, and shoving inside of you”—he paused and leaned a little closer—“just as I’ve been imagining all day.”

The tip of her tongue licked her bottom lip, and there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to let her know he noticed that. He wanted to see just how far he could push her...

“Or perhaps you’d rather a more familiar position: you on your knees with my cock in that flirtatious mouth of yours?”

“Evan—” she tried to interject, but her breath caught as he raised a brow.

“Deny it. Go on. I dare you.”

While she stared at him, her white teeth bit into her cherry lip as she stood there, not saying a word.

“That’s exactly why I won’t stay,” he said, letting his gaze drift down her body before he walked out the door, leaving her there speechless and watching after him.

* * *

EVAN RAPPED ON the door to Reagan’s office and waited for her to respond. It’d been a couple of days since their confrontation, and he’d noticed she’d been giving him a wider berth than usual. That was fine by him since he’d developed an unhealthy obsession with zooming in on the woman every time she was within eyesight, and he was not proud of the fact. So if she wanted to keep her distance, then she was doing him a favor in a way. Although his cock did not agree.

“Come in,” she called from behind the closed door.

After pushing it open, he made his way inside with the information she’d requested. “You were right about Stein,” he told her. “If they’re willing to drop the price point on their major products, then it will likely increase their sales.” Stopping behind one of the chairs opposite her desk, he frowned at her. “The hard part will be making them see it that way.”

Reagan leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands together. She contemplated his words for a moment and then gave an arrogant smile as she shrugged. “I don’t have to make them see it. I’ll just tell them the numbers and show the statistics and they’ll have no better option but to lower their prices. Win-win if you ask me.”

He gave a slight nod and turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.

“Wait just a second. Have a seat.”

Looking over his shoulder at her, he tried to gauge what the change in her tone signaled.

She cocked her head. “Please?”

Reluctantly, Evan turned, made his way to one of the seats opposite her, and sat. Then rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers in front of him as he waited for her to talk.

She crossed one leg over the other, but he refused to allow himself to look. He didn’t know if she was playing with him or if this was just her, but every little thing she did provoked him. Even the pen she was rolling back and forth between her fingers brought to mind her hands on him.

“Evan,” she said. “I wanted to take a minute and ask how you’re settling in.”

He hadn’t expected that to be the direction she’d take, but as he sat up straight and lowered his hands, he saw her eyes flick down to where they rested on his thighs before coming back to his own.

“So far so good, I think.” He stopped for a moment and then dared to ask, “As my boss, how would you rate my performance thus far? That, after all, is what counts, isn’t it? That you’re satisfied?”

He watched as the pen she’d been twirling between her fingers made its way to her mouth. She bit the end of the pen cap as she appraised him.

“I’d say I have no complaints,” she said, a slow smile crossing her face.

Evan frowned. “That’s not very good feedback, Ms. Spencer.”

She rocked back in her chair, her smile growing wider as she slid the pen across her bottom lip. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’d say your job performance has been...adequate.”

“Adequate?” he said, baffled. “I think we both know that my skill set is far above the level of ‘adequate.’”

“Hmm,” she mused. “Well, your social skills need a bit of work, but you do seem to be extremely motivated to please, highly productive, and your job focus is unwavering. I guess I’m holding off judgment until I see how you close the deal.”

Evan had a distinct feeling that the conversation had veered off the professional line of questioning directly after he’d been told to sit.

He’d been trying to figure out what was different about her today. Since he’d gotten the job at Kelman Corporations, she’d been nothing but professional, and each day he’d been there, she’d demonstrated a work ethic that anyone would admire. Today was different though. She was more relaxed than he’d seen her before. Her hair was still perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, but it was her demeanor and...her blouse.

He hadn’t looked her over until right then, but as he let his eyes trail down over her collarbone, he saw that the respectable Ms. Spencer had left a few extra buttons open. She probably didn’t think he would notice something so inconsequential, but when you had masturbated to the point of hurting oneself while looking at a set of fucking pearls around said neck, you soon sat up and paid attention when it was bared to you.

“My social skills are lacking, you say?”

She leaned forward in her chair and dropped the pen on the desk, resting her elbows on it and causing her shirt to spread open a little more.

“Well, it’s understandable that you’re a little reluctant to open up.”

His eyebrow quirked as he looked down to get a peek of her bra before coming back to her face and stating, “Whereas you seem more than happy to…”

“To..?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” Glancing around, he noticed the diplomas hanging on her wall. “NYU, huh?”

She followed his gaze and nodded. “Yeah. For my master’s.”

“And before that?”

“Before what?”

“Before NYU. What’s your story?”

She shrugged and sat back in her chair. “Are we playing Twenty Questions now?”

“Are you gonna answer every question with another question?”

“It’s just not important.”

Evan studied her carefully. “Well, it seems only fair. You know everything about me.”

“Yes, but we hired you. It’s my job to know what I’m getting myse—our company into.”

“So, your favorite restaurant growing up was called..?”

She laughed and shook her head. “McDonald’s.”

“And the names of your parents are..?”

Reagan rolled her eyes and pointed to the door. “Get back to work.”

* * *

“WE MAKE A good team,” Reagan said the following week as they walked out of the conference room and through the lobby. They’d just finished presenting their collaborative merger project, and it had gone surprisingly well. “Frankly, I’m a little shocked.”

“Oh yeah? Doubting my ability to perform, were you?”

As she pushed the doors open to the street, she shot him a look that said, Really? and he laughed.

“All right, all right. We make a very good business team. I agree.”

“There. Was that so hard?”

As he strolled beside her down the sidewalk, he shook his head. “Be proud of me. I’m keeping my lips zipped.”

She snorted. “Yeah, that’s about the only thing you keep zi—” She stopped herself before she could finish the sentence.

“Hey, I’m trying here.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

You wouldn’t be sorry if you knew every way I’ve thought about fucking you.

He felt a grin quirk his mouth as they continued back to the office in comfortable silence until the growling of her stomach had him stopping in his tracks. “Lunch?”

She pressed a hand to her belly and glanced over at him. “It’s daylight, so eating together is allowed now, huh?”

When he nodded, she pointed at a Thai restaurant across the street.

“Does that work for you?”

“I’m always down for hot and spicy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you are.”

* * *

HE FELT REAGAN’S gaze on him as he scarfed down his second helping of Pad Thai. Lowering his fork, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“I thought you said you liked hot and spicy?” she commented, spearing another forkful of red curry chicken. “That is neither.”

“I like to switch it up. I’d get bored ordering the same dish every time.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting. Says a lot about you.”

“What can I say? I like a change now and then. Speaking of...” He wiped his mouth and put the napkin back in his lap. When he spoke again, his voice took on a more sober tone. “Thank you. You know, with the job, this account—everything, really. Many wouldn’t have given me a chance, and I would’ve deserved it. So...I appreciate it.”

She regarded him thoughtfully, her head tilted to the side. “Everyone makes mistakes, Evan. It’s how you deal with the aftermath that counts.”

Pretty sure she wouldn’t agree with any of my methods.

Rubbing his jaw, he said, “I don’t think I’ve been doing a very good job of dealing with anything lately.” He looked up at her with haunted eyes, his voice dropping down to barely a whisper. “I just don’t know how...” he trailed off, losing his nerve.

“You don’t know how to what?” she prompted.

He focused on her and decided that maybe it was time to open up to someone. “To stop. I just don’t know how to stop.”

“I’m curious,” she said before taking a sip of her water. “You have a healthy...appetite, that much is clear, but so do a lot of people.”

“Yourself included.”

Her lips lifted in a half smile, and she nodded. “Myself included. So what’s the tipping point?”

“The tipping point?”

“Yeah. What makes it get out of control?”

“I don’t think you wanna know.”

She gave him a look that made it pretty clear what she thought of that, but in case he’d missed it, she told him. “I’m a big girl, Evan. I can handle it.”

He knew what she was asking for, but he wasn’t sure she could handle that. How could anyone understand what he did when he thought no one was watching?

She waited, an expectant look on her face, and he felt his defenses slowly crumbling. Shifting in his seat so he was leaning in close across the table, he lowered his voice and locked eyes with her, not giving her any chance to escape the intensity he knew was in his own.

“Have you ever wanted something so much you’d do anything to get it?”

“Of course.”

“What if that meant giving up every good thing in your life for it? For a high that lasts only minutes before you’re chasing it again. When you’re down to the last few dollars in your bank account and you’d rather call a sex hotline instead of eat because your hand just isn’t getting you off, and the thought of going another minute without coming is what you think would kill you. When your first thought after finally landing a new job isn’t that you can pay your bills, but that you can finally afford the high-class hooker with the tightest cunt in Manhattan to fuck you instead? That’s the line. That’s the difference.”

Reagan’s eyes had widened throughout his speech, and as she sat there staring at him with her mouth slightly parted, he wondered what the fuck she was thinking.

“Hey,” he told her and reclined back with a shrug, trying to appear indifferent. “You asked.”

Several seconds passed before she nodded and managed to pull herself together enough to ask, “Have you ever tried to stop?”

He put his napkin on the table, and returned her stare, refusing to feel any more humiliation than he already did. “And how would you suggest I do that?”

“Have you ever talked to someone?”

“Of course.”

“And obviously abstinence doesn’t work.”

“Obviously.”

Her lips curved into a cheeky smile as she suggested, “This may sound crazy, but what about monogamy?”

At that suggestion, he blew out a breath. “The last woman I dated said she wished I’d fall in the Kaptai Lake and have my dick eaten off by a swarm of hungry piranhas. So, no, it didn’t end well.”

“Where the hell is Kaptai Lake?”

“Exactly. I had to look it up. Remind me never to go to Bangladesh.”

“Well, shit.”

He let out a humorless laugh and watched her tap her manicured nail against her lip.

“Well, look. You have the job. Just don’t fuck it up, okay? Pun intended.”

“I’m trying not to. But keep in mind, I’ve been promising my family the same thing for years now, and if I can’t seem to get it right for them…” He trailed off when he saw an expression flash across her eyes. Interest? No...but something.

“You’ve hardly mentioned them since starting. Are they from around here?”

“No,” he replied but gave nothing more. His family was not a topic he wished to discuss.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. If she was flustered by what he’d said, she wasn’t showing it. She seemed to take the hint and went back to eating without saying another word.

But when he picked up his fork and reached over to spear a piece of her red curry chicken, she looked at him in surprise.

“What?” he asked, an innocent expression on his face. “I wanted to taste hot and spicy after all.”

* * *

EVAN TURNED HIS SUV onto the dark, familiar street lit only by a flickering lamppost and rolled down the window. The night was sticky with humidity, and the sidewalks seemed to be deserted in favor of air conditioning. That or business was good.

He spotted a couple of shadowy figures in heels standing on the corner and dimmed his lights as he eased his Range Rover in their direction. One of the women was tall with skin the color of rich coffee, and the other a scrawny redhead. Both were similarly dressed in tiny miniskirts and the highest heels he’d ever seen, leaving no dispute over exactly what it was they were doing on the street after dark.

He hadn’t intended for things to get this bad. But it’d been two fucking weeks since he’d come, and if he didn’t get a release soon, there was no telling what the fuck he would do.

As he slowed to a stop in front of the women, they turned and sauntered toward him. That close, he wasn’t altogether sure that the redhead wasn’t a guy and, upon further inspection, he still wasn’t positive, so he looked behind them to see if his regular was nearby.

“You lookin’ for something, sweet thing?” the taller woman asked as she pulled her tube top even farther down to showcase her breasts. They weren’t anything spectacular, but he supposed she would work in a pinch if it came down to that.

“Is Layla around?”

The woman’s penciled-in eyebrow arched, and then she crossed her arms, seemingly put out that he’d asked about someone other than her.

“Layla’s already busy for the night. You’re too late for that piece of ass, sugar.”

Evan tightened his hands around the steering wheel as he thought over his options. Then he glanced back at the woman whose hip was resting against the side of his car door.

Fuck it.

“You. What’s your name?”

As she bent down so she was face to face with him, the side of her painted lips curved and she told him, “Violet.”

His eyes flicked over to where the redhead was walking away after realizing she, or he, was obviously not who he was interested in.

The fact of the matter was that he wasn’t interested in either of them. The woman he was fixated on was off-limits. Better to slake his lust here than risk losing his job for cornering his boss and pounding into her for some kind of fucking release.

“Okay, Violet. Get in.”

He pushed the seat back as she opened the door and slid in, angling her long legs towards his. Immediately, she was on him, running her long nails over his chest as he raised the window and drove away from the corner.

“What’ll it be, sugar? You an ass man? Or maybe you’d like a good titty fuck?” She removed her hand and grabbed her small handfuls, massaging them as she licked her lips.

Glancing briefly at her movement, he snorted. Wouldn’t be enough to titty fuck.

She stopped rubbing herself and jerked away from him. “Whatchu snortin’ about, classy dick? You picked me up, remember?”

He turned the car into an unilluminated alley and shut off the ignition. There was no way in hell he was bringing a hooker back to his place, and he sure as fuck wasn’t spending money on a hotel room for a five-minute job.

He unzipped his pants and pushed them down, pulling his cock free. He’d gone commando for easy access, and even without being hard, her eyes flared with interest.

“I think just a hand job will work for tonight, Violet,” he said as he pushed his seat back.

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine he was anywhere other than in his SUV with a fucking hooker. When her fingers wrapped around the root of his cock, he hissed from the sheer relief of having someone other than himself touching his flesh.

In that moment, he didn’t care who she was or how she looked. Nothing mattered but the fact that she was tightening her hold on his dick.

While he pushed his hips up off the seat, he heard her moan at his movements, but he wasn’t interested in her pleasure. He was interested in his own. And as her fingers started to stroke up his length, his erection started to take notice.

The dry rub wasn’t going to work for long, so he cracked open his eyes and asked, “Lube?”

She gave him a cunning grin and flexed her fingers, making his jaw clench. “That costs extra.”

“I’ve got the fucking money.”

She pursed her lips at him and glanced down at his dick before returning her focus to him. “Sure you don’t want my mouth instead?”

Reaching down, he clamped his hand around hers. “Lube. That’s it.”

“Okay,” she relented and brought her free hand to the side of her skirt. Then she slipped her fingers underneath and took out a small packet.

Apparently, she’s a fucking Girl Scout. Always prepared.

After she oiled him up, she went to work, firmly squeezing him from root to tip, twisting both hands around his cock and rubbing it to attention. He pumped his hips up at a steady pace through her clenched hands and tried not to think about any fucking thing but how good it felt. The beginning tremors of a rush ran through him, but just as quickly, they were gone.

“No, fuck,” he spat, grabbing at his hair in frustration as he felt his erection begin to diminish.

She felt it too and moved her hands faster, trying another position as she urged him on in seductive purrs. This couldn’t be fucking happening. Not again. What the hell was going on?

So he’d looked up images of Reagan, and now, all of a sudden, he couldn’t get himself off? What was that? Some kind of fucked-up guilt trip? He knew he couldn’t have her, and ever since secretly jacking off to her, he couldn’t fucking come to save himself.

Fuck this shit.

He sat up and pushed the hooker’s hands off his useless body.

“Stop. Just fucking stop.”

“Is there a problem, sugar?”

He shot her a look that was full of anger and frustration and grasped for his wallet, which was in the pocket of his pants that were currently around his ankles. Pulling a couple of bills from it, he threw them across the console at her, and told her cooly, “Just get out.”

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

He pressed a button to unlock the doors, reached over her, and opened hers. “Get out.”

“You is a twisted motherfucker, lettin’ girls out in the middle of an alley when the least you could do is drive me back the two blocks to—”

“GET. OUT.” His voice vibrated through the air and had her jumping out of the car.

She wiped her hands on the sides of her scant dress, yelling obscenities at him as he leaned over and pulled the passenger’s door shut. “Don’t bother comin’ back here—you or your limp-ass dick!” he could hear her shout as he peeled out of the alley.

Nausea twisted through his gut and the sting of unshed tears burned his eyes. He hated who he was like this. Hated it yet couldn’t escape. He couldn’t decide which pain was worse: the physical agony, the fucked way he’d used and disposed of another human being, or the guilt and humiliation of having to acknowledge who he really was.