Chapter 16

I feel… bamboozled. What almost happened in Lex's office haunts me the whole weekend. I've been betrayed by my rebellious nipples, and he knows it wasn't the alcohol, but pure, unaltered desire. Does it mean he knows everything ?

That the thought of him consumes me? That I can barely think straight when he's in the room? That the idea of fucking him sometimes wakes me in the middle of the night, sweaty and horny, on the verge of orgasm? That I've been masturbating with him in my mind?

Or does he know I'd give my left kidney to kiss him again?

I guess he does because I practically offered myself to him. But he easily rejected me, like it was all a game.

It makes everything so much worse than before, which is saying a lot. I don't know what to do other than ignore him. But it works, so it's not that bad a technique. Eventually, I might even grow indifferent to him.

I'm being a coward, and I know it. Avoiding my issues and pretending they don't exist is wrong, and it isn't something I usually do. But in this particular case, I have too much to lose.

Someone knocks on the door about half an hour before the day ends. It's the first sound I hear in at least three hours. Lex and I are uncannily good at not talking to each other.

"Come in," he commands, not looking away from his work. Since I'm not a cold machine like him, I turn around to see who it is. I smile at the sight of Oliver as he grins back.

"Hi, guys," he says, coming toward the desk. "Lex, I passed Beatrix in the hallway, and she asked me to give you this." He hands Lex a thin folder of papers. "She said it's for the Hello World Con. "

The topic makes me drop everything to listen. The Hello World Convention is halfway between a congress and a convention, and it's held in Silicon Valley, where companies, firms, and corporations from all over the country gather for three days of intense nerding. It's centered around programming, demonstrations of tools and software, as well as lectures and conferences. It's one of the nerdiest, most tech-oriented conventions in the US. So, understandably, going to the HWC is a dream of mine.

From what I've heard, Lex and Kev go there every year with two people from the dev team. I'm too much of a junior employee to get that honor, but there's always next year and the ones after.

Alexander skims over the folder's pages, his eyes focused behind his glasses. "When you get back downstairs, you can tell your colleagues everyone is going this year," Lex tells Oli, putting the papers aside.

Wait… What? Everyone's going?!

As confused as I am, Oliver gives me a surprised look before turning to our boss. "Seriously? Everyone?"

"Yes. I'm tired of the never-ending complaints and whining of those who can't go."

"Everyone, including me?" I ask, standing up so I can see the man.

"Yes. All seven of us and Kevin are going this year. We have also scheduled an hour-long slot in one of the lecture halls to present some of our work and advances."

It sounds like a fun little vacation among colleagues, and I'm here for it. I can't believe I will spend a few days in the heart of the high-tech world learning about groundbreaking advances. Oli is grinning as well, also very pleased with the news.

"Thanks, Lex," he says. "Everyone will be ecstatic."

"The company has been doing well enough to afford a spot for everyone, so I thought we'd change things up a little."

"That's very cool of you. Thanks," Oliver insists. "Anyway, I'm here to see Andy. I'm having some issues with a script she worked on a couple of weeks ago. Mind if I borrow her?"

Lex's eyes seek mine, giving me a cold glare before looking back at Oli. "Borrow away."

Well, at least I'm not the only one acting salty and childish.

Oli and I work together for the remainder of the day, and I realize how much I miss working with people. Being here with Lex is nothing like what it used to be downstairs. When we fix the bug—much too early for my taste, even though we're ten minutes past five-thirty—Oli takes his leave, so I accompany him to the door. As soon as the door closes behind him, I find Lex standing ten feet away from me.

His eyes are on me, inquisitive, as I walk to my chair. "What happened between you two?"

I stop dead in my tracks, whipping my head to glare at him. "Excuse me?"

"Why was he looking at you with those sad puppy eyes? Did you break up with him?"

Lex's intrusive attitude is enough to enrage me, and I let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, no. You don't get to ask this. Not when this is all your fau—" I stop mid-sentence, realizing what I'm about to say.

"I'm in your head, right?" he arrogantly asks. "That's why you've been trying to ignore me for the past few days."

"I honestly don't know what you mean," I say, wanting to hurt him. "I've been doing my best to ignore you since I started working here."

"You're failing."

"It's not my fault you're keeping me hostage up here!" The volume of our voices is slowly increasing, but I don't have the presence of mind to worry about whoever might be doing overtime out there. "Admit it. I'm the one in your head."

A dark shadow passes over his face. Good, I'm not the only one getting pissed. "Why are you acting like I'm the only one at fault here? Weren't you on my lap ten days ago, begging for my cock?"

My eyes open wide, shocked by his crudeness. Oh, this is getting vicious. Maybe Kate is wrong after all. Maybe what I need is to loathe the man until he disgusts me.

"Fuck you!" I hiss, holding back the slap I desperately want to inflict on his cheek. "You're an arrogant asshole, and I can't fucking stand you."

"I don't think your body got the memo." He's being pretentious and venomous, and it's getting harder and harder not to get physical.

"Beats me why. I'm normally not into narcissistic dickheads."

His glare becomes even darker, his pupils dilating drastically. "That's the problem, right? You're so into me, you want to fuck me so badly, you can't even date Oliver."

I take a step back as if he physically hurt me. It isn't so much the brutality of his words or the harsh tone that gets me, but the accuracy of what he said. Yes, that's precisely my problem.

How pathetic …

All the insults I want to throw at him are jammed in my throat, my mind running too fast to formulate sentences. I feel helpless, more than I ever have, betrayed by my tongue, which refuses to cooperate.

Desperate not to let him win, I shove his chest with my flattened hands, wanting to hurt him. He barely moves, and it only adds to my humiliation. Even angrier, I push again, harder, and the impact makes him take a step back this time. "Fuck you," I utter along with the shove.

I do it once more, passing all my exasperation onto him, wanting to make him pay for the psychological torture he's imposing on me.

Fuck him. Fuck Alexander Coleman and his perfect face. Fuck his arrogant attitude. Fuck his hypnotizing eyes. Fuck his ego.

Why does it have to be him? Of all the men out there, why him?

To my great dissatisfaction, I never get the chance to push him a fourth time as his hands swiftly catch my wrists. I try to get free, but his hold on me is as firm as iron. When I glare up at him, he has his stern mask on.

I want to hurt him, to slap the shit out of that handsome face, to yell at him, to bite, to kick…

But as he's standing so close to me, his heat radiating across my front, his intensity making my insides melt, it becomes clear that hatred isn't the only feeling making my blood run so hot. To my greatest despair, I also want to kiss him.

Even more than I want to hurt him.

And I hate him all the more for it. For wanting him more than I loathe him.

He has to stop invading my dreams, stop occupying my mind, stop ruining my chances at a happy relationship…

Maybe it's time for me to stop blaming Lex for the things he makes me feel. This whole mess is my fault. I'm the fucking imbecile ruining her own life. I need to grow up and take responsibility for my own problems instead of making excuses.

This time, he lets go of me when I writhe my wrists. As alert as he might be at that moment, the way his eyes widen when I grab his face proves he isn't expecting my next move. Hell, I'm not expecting it, either.

But here I am, pulling him down so I can bring my mouth to his.

Just like the first time, an intense wave crashes through my whole body. I barely have time to register the sensation before his hand circles my waist, while the other tangles in my hair on the back of my head. Two seconds into the kiss, we're already getting greedy, clinging to each other with desperate need .

It feels so… right.

Our mouths impatiently open, craving more, and I let out a soft moan at the first brush of our tongues. The very candid reaction affects him, his hand on my hip clutching the flesh harshly. With my head tilted to the side, I take and grant, devouring as much as I'm being devoured.

Our moves are feverish, our eagerness rendering our attempts clumsy. I'm on my tiptoes, one arm hooked behind his neck, trying to anchor myself while he struggles to keep our balance, his hand on the back of my head to keep me exactly where he wants me. The hand at my hip travels to my ass, his fingers squeezing the soft mound impatiently, pulling me closer to him.

"Aah, yes…" I whimper in his mouth, the rigid shape of his desire for me digging into my lower stomach.

Somehow, I end up with my back against the door while he presses me harder onto it with a groan. I was never into tall guys, but something about his overbearing presence reaches something deep inside of me. His massive body dominates mine in every way, making some feminine part of me swoon.

His hand in my hair mirrors the other one, fondling and squeezing my ass, which sends maddening jolts into my intimacy. The space between my legs is throbbing, my insides clenching around emptiness, dying to be filled. I arch toward him, pressing my aching core on him, grinding my lower belly against his erection. Oh, how I long to have this part of him inside me.

He growls into our kiss, and it dawns on me that we're reaching a point of no return. We're about to fuck in his office. I know I should stop it but can't bring myself to.

I need it to happen, even if he's my boss, even if it might make everything even more complicated. This thing between us isn't rational, and I'm done trying to contain it.

W ith my hands full of her ass, I lift Andrea up. Her legs part instantly and wrap around my waist as I press her onto me, right where I need her so fucking much it hurts. The thickness of our jeans isn't even enough to contain the heat that seeps and transfers between our crotches .

I press her harder onto the door, letting her feel what she's doing to me, and she moans into our kiss. There's something primal in the desperate way we cling to one another. I need this woman like I've never needed anyone before. And if the way she kisses me is any indication, she feels the same.

She kisses like she lives—with passionate impulsivity. It's not something I'm familiar with, but even though it's only the second time it's happened, I already feel myself in danger of becoming addicted to it.

She gives and demands everything, and I return every bold graze of her tongue on mine.

When she sends her hands down between us to tremblingly open my jeans, I grab her wrist and pull it away.

"Not here," I say, my voice throatier than expected. "I'm not doing it like this, where anyone can interrupt."

"They're all gone by now," she counters, boldly reaching for my belt again.

With a soft growl, I let her down and take a few steps back. The ravenous look on her face slowly fades away, replaced by a frown. It seems that the veil of lust is lifting, and she's returning to her senses. Shit, maybe I should have listened to her and taken her against the door.

"I can't believe I'm begging for your cock again," she mutters after a moment of silent pondering.

The remorse I feel upon being reminded of my bitter words makes a ball of discomfort swell in my throat. "I'm sorry, Andrea. I went too far. I shouldn't have said those things."

She looks away, still upset. "I hate this situation," she explains, avoiding my gaze. "I'm missing my chance with Oli, I'm jeopardizing my career, I'm confused all the time… At this point, I should just quit because this isn't sustainable."

Something churns in my stomach at the thought. "That's not an option."

"Why?"

"We need you here. I know I don't compliment people enough, but you're a solid addition to the team. You can't quit because of something so… trivial."

There's a long break where I curse myself for breaking the spell. How the fuck did we get from almost fucking to her thinking of quitting?

She lets out a frustrated sigh and says, "Well, I don't see another solution. Aside from fucking you out of my system."

That is something I'm definitely on board with. She can't quit, but we can fuck. This novelty, this need… it's bound to go away if we indulge, isn't it?

"Alright," I decide.

Finally, she peers at me, surprised by what I just accepted, surprised that I'm on board with fucking each other's brains out.

In the end, it's very simple. Yes, she's my employee, but she's also the smartest, prettiest, and most fascinating person I've ever met. I lasted almost six weeks. It's enough to prove my attempt at resisting the irresistible.

She wants this. I want this.

We're grown adults, and it's time to act like such.

Her voice has some determination when she asks, "How do we do this?"

"We're going to my place. We'll improvise from there."

Despite her acceptance of what we're about to do, I can sense that part of her is still unsure about it. So, I give in to my need to touch her, and slowly, as if she's a wild animal that I might scare, I frame her face with my hands. I lower my lips to hers with the same unhurried pace and give her a soft, measured kiss.

There's a chemistry between us that I've never known before. The sparks are undeniable, and the little we've done exceeds most of my experiences.

Just how maddeningly intense will the sex be if this is how I react to a kiss?

To my relief, we don't run into anyone on our way to the elevator. It's later than I thought, and everyone's gone. The ride down is overwhelmingly silent—but it's welcome, for once. It allows me to think about what we're about to do. And how much of a shit show it could turn into.

HR will have my fucking head if they hear about this. But they won't, right? No one ever has to know about what happens tonight. Just Andrea and me.

She gets into the car before I can open the door for her, and as I sit behind the wheel, she turns to me and says, "I'm not risking everything over mediocre sex, so it better be good."

Were I not so tense, I probably would have laughed at her words. I don't answer, but the look I give her should clear up her doubts.

I'll make it so good that she'll remember tonight for years to come.

I drive us out of the underground parking lot, and after I've taken a few turns, she frowns and confusedly says, "You don't live near my neighborhood."

"No, I don't."

"You lied to me when you insisted on driving me home. Twice ."

"I never told you where I lived, just that I was good to drive you to your place," I point out, not looking away from the road.

She doesn't seem convinced, so I continue with, "I kept you late the first time, so it was the least I could do. The second time, I wasn't leaving you to fend for yourself, drunk."

"I wasn't drunk," she defensively argues.

"You need to make up your mind, Andrea. Were you drunk or not when you kissed me?"

"I was tipsy," she mumbles after a few seconds.

It seems she's getting tenser by the minute, which is less than ideal for what we have planned. "You know you can change your mind anytime, right?" I ask, using the fact that we're stopped at a red light to focus on her.

That must have been precisely what she needed to hear because something releases in her, and her shoulders sink with relief. What she does next surprises me as she reaches for my nape and pulls me down, planting her lips on mine. After a short but intense kiss, she moves back. But I'm not done yet.

Before she's too far, I pull her in again and take her lips like she's the oxygen I need to breathe, demanding more, and she yields to my will, allowing me to sample her thoroughly. I could never get used to kissing this woman. She's pliant yet demanding, knowing when to give and when to take. The thrill of it is never-ending. I could kiss her for hours.

The car behind us honks, but I don't give a shit. They can wait. This can't. She either doesn't hear or doesn't care because she stays right there, right where I want her. The car honks again, more insistent this time, and I accept this will have to do for now. After one last hungry peck, I rip myself away from her and drive.

About five minutes later, I pull up in front of my building's underground parking lot. The wide door automatically lifts, and I drive us in. I park in my spot, and we're soon walking up to the elevator.

"Are you alright?" I ask while we wait for it to arrive.

"Yes. I just—I never do this. It feels strange."

"Never do what? Have sex?"

" Casual sex," she corrects me, missing the fact that I was teasing her.

The doors open before us, and I rest a hand on her lower back to gently invite her in. I have to remove it once we're in to press my floor's button, but it swiftly returns there. I'm not sure how I'll manage to keep my distance from her after tonight. This won't go away with just one night. But that's a problem for another day. A problem for tomorrow.

Silence weighs the air around us as we walk through the hallway that leads to my apartment, and with every step closer to my door, I grow more anxious about what we're about to do. What if it makes everything worse? What if I don't get enough of her and forever crave more?

Again. That's a problem for another day.

L ex lets me step in first and follows closely behind. I'm so damn nervous that I barely register when he calls out with a clear voice, "Iris, I'm home!"

I whip around, my eyes round with shock.

Who the fuck is Iris?! Does Lex have a girlfriend? Is he expecting a threesome or something? Does he have a secret daughter I don't know about?

Before I can ask anything and humiliate myself with a chain of accusations, a feminine but undoubtedly electronic voice resonates in the apartment. "Welcome home, Alexander."

At the same time, the lights increase gradually, and the window shutters roll up without a sound, lighting up the space with the last rays of the sun.

The entire room is vast but not absurdly so, furnished, decorated, and laid out in tones of grays, from light to anthracite, with touches of light woods on the floor and a few pieces of furniture. We're in the living suite, with a large lounge room, a dining area, and an open kitchen.

The programmer in me is curious to know more about his live-in AI. "I've never heard of a home AI named Iris. Where does she come from?"

"She's my very own Intelligent Residential Interface System."

"I-R-I-S… That's clever. You programmed her?"

He nods as if it's the simplest thing. "I don't trust the other AIs. You never know how much they are recording, and I like to keep my life private."

"So you went and built one from scratch? "

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Open your windows manually and use the switches for the lights?" I propose with humor. He lets out a loud breath, the closest thing to a laugh I have ever heard from him.

"But where's the challenge in that?"

I genuinely laugh, amused by the way he thinks. In his genius mind, building a whole AI system isn't that far-fetched. Searching for personal clues as to who he is, I look around the place. The room looks impersonal, like a magazine home. There isn't even a picture anywhere, just generic-looking art. That's disappointing.

The place is particularly masculine, and the lack of a woman's touch reminds me of something. "Do you have a woman in your life?"

His answer takes slightly too long to come. "I don't."

"What about the one from the nude when we first met in the elevator?"

"She was a convenient arrangement, nothing more. And she wasn't one anymore at the time she sent that picture."

"Really?"

"Relationships demand too much maintenance. That's why I don't get entangled with anyone."

Message received loud and clear. We're not getting entangled. This is just a convenient arrangement—one where he hopefully rearranges my insides.

A pout is on my lips as I approach a painting. It's Pollock-inspired, with drops and splashes of paint. I'm not into modern art, but there's something fascinating about it. I don't know if it's the contrast of the colors, the slight relief of the drops, or the sheer size of the piece—as big as a door—but I adore it for some reason.

I can feel his eyes following my stroll around his place, and it warms me from the inside out. The apartment is remarkably silent, giving me a sense of isolation. We're in Downtown Seattle, close to rush hour, and I can't hear a single car. All this silence isn't helping with my nervousness. Some music would go a long way.

Feeling bold, I take a deep breath, not moving my eyes from the painting. "Iris, could you put on some music?"

I hear what almost sounds like a chuckle behind me. "Sorry, she only answers to my voice, Andrea. And I'm afraid I never programmed her for music."

He's close to me now, but I keep my back to him, resisting the urge to turn around and look at him.

"Are you telling me you don't listen to your funky playlist here?" I tease, remembering his unexpected tastes .

"I only listen to the funky playlist to prevent me from falling asleep while I drive for long hours."

Confused and disappointed, I spin around to face him. "So you don't actually like disco music?"

"I don't like music in general."

That's probably a red flag, but I couldn't care less when he's so close to me. I fight the urge to press my palms on his broad chest.

"Why would you let me believe it was your playlist then?"

"You were having a blast. I didn't want to ruin your fun." Bending closer to me, he brings his mouth right next to my ear, his hand grazing my side from my hip to my ribs. "You have the most enticing laugh, Andrea."

His closeness, baritone voice, and touch are too much for me to handle. A wave of pure lust travels through my entire frame to end straight between my legs, where my clit pulsates with need. Right then and there, I cream my panties.

How does he keep doing that? Make me so weak and needy?

Perfectly aware of what he just did to me, he retreats with a smirk. "Would you like something to drink?"

Once more, the reality of what's about to happen dawns on me. I'm here to seal the deal, to have sex with Lex. Should I call it… slex ? Okay, now my nervousness is derailing my brain.

"I'd like that, but could I use your bathroom first?" I ask, trying to seem nonchalant. I need to clean up because I'm not letting him near my chocha so long after my last shower.

He points to a hallway behind me. "Second door on the right."

Once there, I stay with my back pressed on the door for a moment, still unsure if all of this is a good idea. The setting is far from romantic, but I don't want romance, anyway. I'm here to have sex with him, then leave.

I'll go all the way because I can, but more importantly, I want to.