Chapter 15

G od has a terrible sense of humor and obviously has it out for me. There's no denying both those statements when I enter the elevator the next morning and see Lex in it. He gives me one of those icy looks before deciding I ought to be ignored again.

But then Oli gets in, and I nearly snort at the improbability of the situation. It fucking figures…

I'm not ready to deal with this mess, especially since I barely got any sleep.

Oblivious to my state of mind—because how could he know?—Oli makes his way to me among the many others trying to fit in here. "Hi, stranger," he greets me joyfully.

I force a smile on my lips. "Hi, Oli."

Tami's here too, next to me, pretending to pay us no mind. But I'm familiar enough with her to know she'll sneakily lipread. Which still isn't as embarrassing as Lex being right next to us and hearing everything .

"So," Oliver starts once the doors are shut. "Last night didn't go exactly as I'd planned, but I preferred your approach. The driver pestered me the entire way to my place."

Can I pretend to lose consciousness to get out of this?

No, that's the cowardly way, and Ibanez women don't cower. Except in the presence of poultry, because hens and geese are nasty peckers—a lesson I learned the hard way when visiting relatives in Mexico.

So, I smile and meet his honey irises. "I really enjoyed the restaurant. I'll definitely add it to my list."

"Oh, great. We parted abruptly, and I didn't get to ask if you liked it. "

Because I can't help it, I glance at Lex. He's too close for me to pretend he can't hear. But his face is impassive, and if he's listening, it doesn't show.

"I really did. I've had Korean barbecue before, but never that good," I say, hoping the conversation will remain on food rather than more intimate allusions.

"Yes, you were in a great mood afterward."

Is it acceptable to faint now?

Like always, the elevator stops on every other floor, people get out, others get in… It's insufferable, and I very much want to step out of here. On floor fourteen, a shitload of people join us, as usual, and everyone's forced to shift around. I'm separated from Oli and Tami. In an attempt to make more room for the newcomers, I'm pushed against a hard body near me.

Ah, fuck… This feels like déjà vu.

Looking up, I peer at Lex. He has his brow arrogantly cocked up, his jaw tightly clenched.

Clearly, I'm not the only one aware of the similarities, as Lex bends discreetly to mutter, "I thought we agreed to never do this again?" His tone is petty, his voice between a grunt and a whisper. That, combined with his proximity, makes my knees turn to mush. This ignites me a hundred times more than full-on making out and grinding with Oli.

It's not fucking fair.

Maybe it's because of the weak legs, or maybe it's the person who elbows my back, but I stumble even closer to him, unable to keep my balance.

His large hand reaches for my hip to level me, burning my skin despite the layers of my jeans and light jacket. Instead of pushing me away, he presses me against him for an entire second before setting a more reasonable distance between us. When I look up this time, it isn't anger veiling his eyes, but something much more primitive and dangerous.

Something painfully tempting.

I know Kate's plan is bullshit, but I wish it weren't.

Angry at him as much as myself, I push against his chest, needing to set some distance before I do something stupid. It's hard to ignore the firmness of his muscles beneath my palms, and even harder not to notice the flame that dances in his eyes at my bold touch.

I make enough room for myself to twist around, but that's a terrible idea. My ass is now pressed against the front of his pants, and I could swear he hisses at the contact, taking in a sharp breath. But floor sixteen is here, and all the lazy fuckers who can't be bothered to climb two flights of stairs get out .

Within seconds, I'm back with Oli and Tami. Half a minute felt like an eternity.

"I may already have found our next destination," Oliver says enthusiastically after a moment, resuming our conversation as if nothing happened.

"Ah, you're quite the planner."

"Only when it's important. And like I told you yesterday—"

"Oh! Look!" I abruptly cut him off before he can add another word. "It's your floor. I'll walk you to the Lair."

As we step out, I peer at Lex. He looks pissed, his jaw ticking. Fuck…

On our way to the Lair, I rack my brain to find the words and figure out what I can tell Oli. But my silence is uncharacteristic, so he guesses something is off. "Is it something I did?" he carefully asks. The anguish in his voice nearly wrecks me.

I can't even begin to process the guilt gnawing at my insides. In need of privacy, I grab his arm and pull him to an isolated corner.

"You were perfect," I say genuinely. "You are perfect. Yesterday was great, but I lost control a little. A lot. I'm usually not that bold. It's just that I-I have too much going on right now. With the sale, the new job, the new city… I've been overwhelmed lately."

He takes in my words, processing them for a while. The last thing I want is for Oli to doubt himself. He's done nothing wrong, on the contrary. The man even stopped me from making a bigger mistake in my attempt to drive Lex out of my mind.

"Do you want to slow things down or stop them altogether?" he ends up asking.

"I—"

I don't know. Slowing things down isn't enough right now. I can't date Oli and give him any hope for as long as Alexander is on my mind. He deserves better than this. But I also don't want to put an end to everything. I'm too smart to let my vagina dictate my life and decisions.

"Right now, I don't really know where I'm at, and I don't want to ruin things because we had a false start," I explain. "I really like you, Oli, but I can't expect you to put everything else on hold for me. Maybe it's simpler if we're just friends for now, and when I get my shit together, we can give it another try if you're still interested?"

"I would never want to force you to do anything. I should have realized you weren't ready." Not only is he the most understanding person ever, but he's also the sweetest, most considerate one.

"How could you? I didn't even know it myself. But I swear to you, Oliver Paulson. As soon as I'm ready, I'll come and get you," I promise, hiding my doubts .

He squints his eyes, and I see a glimpse of amusement in them. "Why did that sound like a threat?"

The tension is slowly wearing off, and the relief compels me to let out a soft giggle. "Well, it's because it was. You better be ready for me."

"I will be, Hulkette. However long it takes for you to figure things out, I will still be interested."

For some reason, his statement feels both wrong and right, and I don't know what to make of it. I don't want him to wait for me, but I hope he will. We're too good together not to become a thing.

All I need is to sort out that messed up situation with my infuriating boss. Which won't be easy since we're hell-bent on ignoring the shit out of each other.

That's what we do the entire day. I barely grant him a glimpse when I get in, and then I pretend I'm alone, forcing my brain to ignore his closeness. I'm so absorbed by work that I don't notice the time. He's the one who does, his head popping over the screen that shields us from seeing each other.

Ugh, these fucking glasses…

Lex gestures to his ears, inviting me to remove my headphones. "Time's up. Go home," he says when I do, keeping it to a minimum.

Confused, I check the time on my screen, and my eyes open wide. Oh, damn. I should have left twenty minutes ago. "Oh, right, thanks."

Once everything's off and I have all my things, I throw a vague, "Bye" on my way out, not expecting or getting one in return.

Tomorrow's Friday. If it goes as smoothly as today, then I'm out of the woods until Monday. By then, I might have a better idea of how to fix this than Kate's.

Yeah, that's totally doable.

Totally.

T his cold war we're waging is getting ridiculous. We only exchange words when we need to for the app and nothing else. She clearly has no interest in interacting with me, and I'm too proud to beg for scraps of her attention. She needs to come to me.

Admittedly, I shouldn't have allowed things to derail the way they did because she did drink that night. But she sobered up by the time we got to her place, and I'm not good at resisting her. And we both know that kiss wasn't due to the wine she drank .

A week has passed since that evening, and none of the tension has faded. I haven't been able to chase the memory out of my head, and because of my high capacity to retain information, I remember it all with vivid accuracy.

I've been thinking of it much more than I care to admit. On several occasions since, I've fucked my fist thinking of her in that pretty dress, of her drenched pussy, of her soft, desperate moans…

I never in my life thought I'd be lusting after an employee like this. I'm too hell-bent on following the rules and doing what's right. Kev always told me to let loose and live a little. That clearly wasn't good advice. Letting go brought nothing but frustration and a strained relationship with one of our most valuable employees.

Releasing a sigh, I lean back into my chair. Neither of us has spoken in nearly four hours, and the day is almost over, so she'll head out and disappear from my life for the weekend. It's supposed to be a good thing, but it doesn't feel like it.

Does she also think of our kiss as she lies alone in bed at night? Or is she even alone in her bed? It's my understanding that she and Oliver had a date, and it went well. The utter rage that I felt upon hearing that worried me. It shouldn't matter what she does, but the fact that she kissed me and went out on a date with him within a week is insulting. Did it really mean nothing to her?

I'm ruminating on my thoughts when she hastily gathers her things. Every day, she's out at five-thirty sharp, eager to escape my office and my presence.

She stands with her bag and, without sparing me a glance, she mumbles, "Enjoy your weekend."

"Andrea, wait a moment." She freezes, and I remember to add, "Please." That word works surprisingly well on her.

I'm walking up to her when she turns, and something about her demeanor sends my brain into a frenzy. She's trying so hard to seem unfazed, but I notice the flush of her cheeks and the way she avoids my gaze so fiercely.

"I meant to apologize for my behavior last week," I explain. It isn't a lie, but it isn't entirely true either. I don't regret the kiss, but I regret the ending and its aftermath.

She nods, still looking away. "Me too. I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me."

"I thought you said it was alcohol." That compels her to look at me. I take a step forward, and she takes one back.

"Yes, of course. The wine."

"I should have noticed you weren't yourself." Another step forward, another one back. I'm not sure what I'm doing yet, but it's happening.

She isn't good at hiding how flustered I make her. I used to think it was because she disliked me, but I know better now. Three steps later, she bumps into the armchair behind her, stopping her retreat. I halt close enough to sense the heat emanating from her body.

"Are you tired?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Have you been drinking today, Andrea?"

Confused, she silently denies again, breathing out a faint, "No."

"Perhaps you're cold?"

Her overheated face already gives me the answer I seek, but she shakes her head once more. Victorious, I slowly lift a hand between us, grazing the front of her nerdy T-shirt, my knuckles brushing the modest swell of her breast. In its path, it teases a nipple, which is hard and begging for attention. She shivers from head to toe, and her eyes unmistakably darken.

I bend forward until my lips are by her ear. "This is all me then," I rasp. Firmer this time, I run the back of my fingers against the taut tip, clearing any doubt there might have been.

She's speechless, a trembling breath flowing out of her lush lips. As I straighten up, I lower my hand to her waist, resting it on its perfect curve. It's like it was meant to be there, affirming my power over her.

Her eyes glide over my mouth, and her lips instinctively part. The cat's out of the bag. She can't keep pretending that the kiss meant nothing or was an inebriated accident. She wants me. Tipsy or not.

But just in case she thinks she can keep denying it, I slowly bend forward as if to kiss her. She has every opportunity to stop me, but she doesn't. She accepts that we're about to kiss in the middle of this office, in broad daylight, with nothing that can justify why she's allowing it.

Her head tilts to the side, and her eyes flutter closed, ready to welcome my lips over hers. Every bone in my body wants to indulge. Tasting her again is all I want. I need it with everything I have.

But like I said, she must come to me this time. And I've proven my point, whether I kiss her or not.

When the kiss she expects doesn't come, she confusedly opens her eyes again. That's when I cunningly murmur, "That's what I thought," before pulling away.

She looks as shocked and offended as if I slapped her across the face. But I ignore her and return to my computer instead. I did what I had to to prove it wasn't the wine. Now, she'll have the weekend to think about her actions and lies.

It doesn't matter if I've just brought more frustration upon myself. The victory is sweet.

But not as sweet as the intoxicating taste of her lips.