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DAMON STOOD OUTSIDE the restaurant a few blocks from his hotel, waiting. It was late spring, but the evening air was heavy with humidity, which held in the exhaust of traffic. He should have changed when he got back to his hotel room, but something—he wasn’t sure what—kept him in the suit. The dense air made him regret the decision. He was early, but he couldn’t sit in his room any longer, and the company at the hotel bar had been non-existent.
It was true, large parts of the day had been filled with more of the same bullshit from both Hayden and Camille, but the depositions couldn’t have gone better. Mikki was a painfully honest witness, even for someone under oath. She gave answers that caught the Skriddie lawyers off guard and made the case look almost legitimate... if examined through squinty eyes, from a long distance, through a dirty window. Which was better than the brick wall that had been there before they started.
But the irritating conscience he’d grown over the last few days chanted louder than ever in his head. It taunted him with reminders that not all people had to deal with this kind of ethical gray areas in their jobs. Hell, he didn’t deal with it the same way in GG Foundation cases.
The people on the other side of the table pulled this stuff, but he didn’t have to.
“Wherever you are, I hope the scenery’s nice.” Vivian’s lilting voice tugged him from his musings.
He shook the irritating haze aside... mostly, and focused on her. “Not nearly as gorgeous as the view here.” She wore jeans that showed off her long legs, and her t-shirt hugged her torso and firm, round breasts.
Her smile shifted from polite to genuine. “Should we go inside?”
He held the door open. “After you.” God, her ass looked good in these jeans. Fantasy mingled with memory, teasing him with images of stripping her clothes off and leaving a mark or two, hearing her sweet gasps, then bringing her to orgasm. Not the time or the place. The mental reminder didn’t stop his dancing thoughts.
Seconds later, they were seated. Because it was after dinner on a weeknight, the place was practically deserted. At least that would make it easier to talk privately. It’d be a nice change. Maybe they could get up to a little more pretending they were still in college, the way they had in the dance club.
They ordered drinks and swapped random banter, until their waiter set a Coke and rum in front of Damon, and a cranberry-juice vodka in front of Vivian.
She sipped her drink, twirled the swizzle stick in the glass, and sighed. “How bad is it with Hayden?”
Although Damon had pushed for this and knew she had to be told, his involvement in the situation made him pause. Might as well get it over with. “He overheard the comment about tying your hands, and he wanted to bet me you weren’t that kind of woman.”
“But you told him no.” There was no question in her tone, but she watched him expectantly.
“Of course I did. Shot him down immediately.” Fuck, he hesitated a second too long. Did she catch it?
Her raised brows said she did. “And... then he goaded you into agreeing anyway.”
“Absolutely not.”
She took another sip of her drink. “Until he did. I get it. Hayden has that effect on people.”
Damon couldn’t help his chuckle. “I never intended to carry through. I needed to buy myself some time, to cool off.”
Her expression faltered, shifting into something that almost looked like disappointment, before the half-annoyed mask slid back in. Or did I imagine that? Must have.
“You bet him you could get me to...?”
“He said you’d never submit, and that if I couldn’t prove otherwise, he’d have my job.” Saying the words didn’t feel nearly as threatening as he expected. He should be furious at the thought, not wondering if it sounded like an okay idea. This was insane. He’d worked hard for his partnership and wasn’t letting some spoiled rich fuck take it from him.
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “And we’re here to make sure you win?”
That tempted every inch of him. “No. Never under someone else’s terms. I’m telling you, so when he comes to you, you’re not surprised, and you can call bullshit. Because you know he’s not going to keep his mouth shut.”
“I appreciate the heads-up.” She sank a little in her seat. “Does that mean the drinks come without seduction?”
*
VIVIAN’S WORDS BOUNCED back at her, and the innuendo sank in a moment too late for her to take them back.
“I’m not worried about the drinks coming.” He traveled his gaze over her. The attention left shivers in its wake. “But I’d love to see you come again.”
Damn it, she didn’t want to be flattered by that. Or turned on. Or sucked into the flirting. “I can’t say it’s a driving motivation for me, these days.” Intellectually, this was the last place she wanted the conversation to go. The way her pulse pounded in her ears and her senses hummed in anticipation felt different.
“Maybe you’re not doing it right.”
Vivian raised her eyebrows and stared at him in disbelief. “It’s straightforward. Stick goes in the hole, stick slides in and out a couple of times, and then it’s over.” It was crude and blunt. With any luck, it would keep the tone of the conversation light and Damon removed.
He leaned in, forearms resting on the edge of the table and voice low. “If you really felt that way, you’d have stopped doing it with anyone but yourself. Or maybe you have. I’m not asking, unless you’re sharing details. Besides, those are the basics. With each person, you especially, it’s the details that matter. Maybe you’re missing someone who knows those details.”
His arrogance infuriated her, but there was a challenge in his tone, along with scores of unrealized promises. Remembering how intimately he sent pleasant shivers through her that she didn’t want to be feeling, but had missed more than she realized. “I’m not asking if you have someone in mind. I won’t walk into that trap.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in an unformed smile. “Trap? So cruel. It implies unwillingness on your part.”
She didn’t want to be enjoying this, but the banter made her pulse race more than anything had in a long time. “We’re still talking about sex, right?”
“Until you slap me and walk out, or change the subject.”
She hadn’t considered doing either. Was she slipping? “This isn’t all on me. We’ve both got the same things at stake, unless you know something I don’t. You’re not that single-minded.”
Under the table, his foot nudged her toes, and his gaze never left her face. “I prefer the term focused. Right now, you’re the center of that focus. Why are you so afraid of your own desires?”
“Excuse me?” The rapid change in subject, the way he’d avoided her accusation, and the not-very-well veiled insult knocked her off balance. It jarred her out of the moment and gave her a chance to pull her head back into line. What was he doing, taking the conversation here, knowing what they stood to lose if they crossed that line? Then again, crossing the line wasn’t an issue if no one else found out “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. I’ve grown up, and I’ve learned a lot about myself along the way.”
“Or forgotten.”
The witty back and forth was one thing, but she didn’t want to play mind games right now. She wanted to cut to the truth. “You’re toying with me, Damon. What’s going on? What do you want?”
“I’m being honest. I want the same thing I almost always want. You.”
If her thoughts and pulse had been going haywire before, it was nothing compared to the way they raced now. The words she didn’t want to hear sounded so right. “I’m flattered, but you keep dancing around the heart of the issue. We can’t.”
“That doesn’t sound like I’m not interested.”
The words hit closer to home than she’d like, gnawing at kinks she normally kept tucked deep, deep down. Her body reacted, betraying her determination not to fall into old habits. Anticipation skated over her skin, heightening her senses. She struggled to push the growing lust aside, and failed, but she wouldn’t let him see that. Couldn’t. No matter how much a part of her wanted to cave. “It is what it is. I’m going to be more direct this time and hope you don’t brush me off with pretty words. What do you know that I don’t? Why is it okay for us to cross the line now?”
His smug expression cracked, and he let out a shaky breath. “There are days I wish I’d turned down the college money and gone into teaching instead. You want me to be blunt. That’s as honest as I know how to be. I want to put everything—our identities, our jobs, our hang-ups—on the shelf for the night. Shove them in a back corner, as if they don’t exist. Because fuck if I can’t stop thinking about who we were without all that hanging over our heads.”
The force behind his words tingled in her toes and fingers and everywhere in between. Her brain hammered and knocked on her skull, warning her to put a stop to this before it went any further. The rest of her body insisted on hearing him out. “You make it sound easy.”
He traced a line up her shin with his foot, and tingles of desire raced through her. “That bit is.” His voice was low but firm.
Walk away or see this through? Back then, she’d walked away, to make sure she didn’t lose herself in him. It had been too tempting to give him the same control outside the bedroom that she surrendered in it. But she’d grown since then. “Prove it.” She knew herself, she knew what she wanted, and damn it, she missed the way he knew her body.
“I’d be happy to.” He stood and extended his hand.
She slipped her fingers into his, and allowed herself to be led. Her hammering pulse beat in time to the back and forth in her skull, arguing against the part of her she usually suppressed, which wanted to take things further.
They stepped outside, and he nudged her toward an empty alley, out of the light and line of sight. When he pressed her against a nearby wall, her world shifted, and anticipation seared her veins. His warm breath caressed her ear, his voice low enough only she would hear it. “Three ground rules before we cross this line. First, when we walk into my hotel room, we leave our names and lives at the door. This is not related to work or anything outside of that room. We left those people at the office.”
“All right.” At least every part of her agreed with that. She buried the twinge that ached from behind her ribcage at her own dismissal.
He tightened his grip on her fingers, but despite how close he stood, he made no other contact. “Second, I’m in control, and you trust me.”
Her mouth went dry, and agreement lodged in her throat. She knew that would be a requirement, and she did trust him. Then why was it so difficult to agree?
He stepped back. The air rushed in around them, but it didn’t cool her fiery skin. His reply bled into the background noise. “Or we call it a night now, and forget this conversation ever happened.”
“I trust you.” The words slid out with far more certainty than she felt.
His smile wasn’t lighthearted this time. It sank into her bones and left her feeling like she’d sold her soul in exchange for the most delicious punishment that existed. “Third, you stop me the moment you stop trusting me. You know the word. It’s seared in my brain, too.” Currents of heat lined his voice.
It sounded like a simple request, but something told her it wouldn’t be nearly that easy. “Agreed.”