Wearing the visitor’s badge Jackson had left for me at the front desk, I stepped out into the courtyard behind the Synergy office in San Francisco. Music and voices bounced off the brick pavers and the sides of the surrounding buildings, making me wince. It had been a long day of work and travel, and a headache lurked behind my eyes, ready to flare. Maybe I could find Jackson and convince him to slip away to somewhere quiet so I could tell him my news. My stomach fluttered in anticipation.
I scanned the party. It was my first time at Synergy’s headquarters. The few times I visited Jackson, he met me at the airport and whisked me straight back to his place. But he’d forgotten about Synergy’s quarterly celebration when I arranged this trip. Tired as I was, I was curious to observe him at headquarters.
People sat at the tables scattered across the courtyard, shaded by pergolas. Others stood in clumps, swaying to the music that played over the speakers. Inside, I’d passed a long table full of snacks; out here, another smaller table served as the bar. A queue of employees stretched across the courtyard, empty cups at the ready. Behind the bar was the reason for the line. Instead of professional bartenders, Jackson and Marlee filled cups with beer. Their foreheads glistened with sweat despite San Francisco’s April chill. What were the company founder and his executive assistant doing there when they should’ve been mingling with the employees?
I skirted the line and approached the table. Marlee saw me first. She dropped the spigot. “Alicia!” She held out her arms for a hug. We’d met the last time I’d visited Jackson, taking part of our precious weekend for a girls-only shopping trip. I liked her a lot. Plus, she was important to Jackson. I could see us becoming friends, especially considering my news.
I stepped into her arms and kissed her cheek. A trickle of sweat dripped from her temple to her chin. “What’s going on?”
Her eyebrows slammed down. “Bartenders didn’t show. The caterer is sending replacements, but we have thirsty people here.” She waved at the line.
“Want me to help?” I’d never poured beer from a keg—the library had been more my scene in college—but it didn’t look too difficult.
“Absolutely not.” She pumped the handle, then picked up the spigot and reached for the next cup. She nudged Jackson with her elbow. “Take a break, Jackson. Alicia’s here.”
He looked up, and the cup he was filling overflowed, splashing his jeans. “Alicia!” He shoved the cup at the waiting person, sloshing her hand, and with a quick apology, dropped his spigot and folded me into his arms.
He smelled like beer and sweat, but under that was my Jackson’s leather and soap scent. I breathed him in and then lifted my face for his kiss.
His beard was freshly trimmed, and it scratched at my cheeks, contrasting with the soft press of his lips and tongue. He tasted like hops and orange peel from the beer. I tunneled my fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. His hands pressed into my lower back, bringing me right up against the hard planes of his stomach. Something else hard nudged against my lower belly.
One of his hands slid down my silky skirt. During our shopping trip, Marlee had convinced me to buy the flouncy, short skirt, so different from my usual slim, professional ones. Its cheery floral pattern was much better suited to Austin, where it was already spring, than to wintry San Francisco.
He kissed over to my ear. “I like this skirt. I think it has room for both my hands.”
“Told you it was a great skirt,” Marlee said.
I gasped and pulled back. “You can’t feel me up in front of your employees.” I tilted my head toward Marlee, who grinned at us.
“Marlee doesn’t mind,” he said. “She tried to help me with my grovel.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” But she wasn’t looking at us any longer. She gazed up into Cooper Fallon’s face.
His jaw clenched when he saw Jackson’s hand on my ass.
“Hey, Cooper,” Marlee said. Her voice had gone high and breathy, and her pink lips parted. Was she flirting with the guy? Her fluttering lashes and sweet smile were no match for the six-foot block of ice that was Cooper Fallon, CEO and certified hard-ass.
“Jay, I—” he began.
At the same time, Marlee said, “Want a beer?”
Without looking, she gave an enthusiastic pump on the tap. But she must have hit it at the wrong angle. It popped off, and foam rocketed out of the keg into her face.
“Blasted beastly Robert Boyle!” she howled, leaping back and shielding her eyes from the spray.
Jackson gripped me tighter, turning his back to the geyser to protect me.
Tyler Young sprinted in out of nowhere, vaulted over the table, and jammed the tap over the volcano of suds. He wrestled against the pressure for a moment, his forearms straining, until he finally clamped it into place.
His chest heaving, he looked up at Marlee. Not Jackson, his boss, or Cooper, or even me. Beer glistened on his hands and bare arms and darkened his gray T-shirt. “Are you okay?”
Marlee’s cheeks were pink under the white foam. She tugged the soaked fabric of her pink blouse away from her skin. “I’ll live. Cooper, it didn’t get you, did it?”
He wiped a spot of foam off his cheekbone. “I’m fine. Though I think”—he looked at the table, at Jackson, anywhere but at Marlee—“you might want to find some dry clothes.”
Her pale-pink blouse had gone transparent, and her lacy, red bra showed through.
Her cheeks went full red. “I—I—”
“Come with me,” Tyler said. “We’ll dry you off. I mean, you can dry off. Inside.” Now his cheeks went pink. Interesting.
She glanced at Cooper again. Even more interesting.
But a second later, drill-sergeant Marlee was back. She pointed at the next pair of guys in line. “You and you. Take over.”
Obediently, they stepped around the table and took up their posts at the keg.
With one last glance at Cooper—holy shit, did she have a thing for the Snow Miser?—she trudged toward the door, beer dripping from the ends of her hair. Tyler trailed her like a hungry puppy.
“You okay?” Jackson murmured.
“I’m fine. You?” I buried my fingers in his hair, which turned out to be damp.
“It’s just a little beer. I’m fantastic now that you’re here.” His hand crept back down toward the hem of my skirt.
Despite the penetrating cold, being near Jackson warmed me from the inside out.
However.
“Easy there, cowboy. Everyone’s watching.”
“They understand. I haven’t seen my girlfriend in two weeks.” His hand crept lower, teasing at the back of my thigh and making my skin zing.
“I might be wearing something special underneath, and I’d rather not flash your employees, if you don’t mind.” I smiled when he froze, his pulse beating wild against my cheek. “Maybe we can find somewhere more private?”
He sucked in a breath, smoothed my skirt down, and whisked me away to the other side of the courtyard. He tugged me behind a tree in a planter bigger than Noah, then leaned against the side of the building and hiked me up against him. The tree shaded us, throwing the corner into semidarkness.
“Now, where were we? As I recall, I was about to discover something special.” His big hand trailed over my ass and teased the hem of my skirt.
I slapped my hand over his, stilling it. “First, I have some news. Want to hear it?”
“Good news?” He searched my face. “You booked your next gig?”
“Hey, no fair guessing.” A little of my excitement leaked out. I’d wanted to surprise him.
“No more guessing.” He tightened his grip on me. “Tell me.”
With my fingertip, I traced the curve of the lips on his Rolling Stones T-shirt. “I booked my next gig. And it’s here in San Francisco.” I dared to look up. For the last month, he’d been begging me to come live here so we could stop the endless travel and separations that exhausted us both. But was it really what he wanted? His expression was blank and still.
“Jamila asked me last November to do a job for her, but I turned it down. She ended up delaying the project, and now it’s available again. It’s a—a year-long gig.” My voice faltered. Why didn’t he look happy?
“I was thinking I’d bring Noah when the school year ends. He’d stay here through the summer, and if things work out, he could start school here in the fall. If…if that’s what we want.” My voice had dropped to a whisper.
“You’re telling me you’re coming to San Francisco for the next year? Maybe longer?” His voice rumbled through my chest, pressed against his.
“Yes?” It was barely audible.
He crushed me to his chest, lifting me off the ground. “I don’t believe it. That’s the best news ever.” He set me back down and stared into my face. “It’s real? That beer tap didn’t hit me in the head and knock me out? Better pinch me.”
I pinched his nipple a little harder than I should. “You scared me! I thought you were upset. That you didn’t want me here after all.”
He gasped at the pain. And then he crashed his lips onto mine, bruising them against my teeth. His tongue invaded my mouth, and his fingers marched right past the hem of my skirt, teasing the bare skin of my ass revealed by my red thong. I’d worn a different style of big-girl panties for my big-news weekend.
He was steel against my stomach, and I rubbed against him, needing more. When he nudged one leg between mine, I ground against the roughness of his jeans. My thong dug into my swollen flesh, lighting me up in pleasure. If he kept kissing me like that and caressing the edge of my panties, I might come right there against his jeans. I ground harder into him, chasing the sensation.
“Jay. Are you back here?”
Cooper’s voice was decidedly unamused. Still, he gave us a minute to compose ourselves. Jackson straightened my skirt and then adjusted his jeans. I rubbed my pink lipstick off the corner of his mouth and then smudged a thumb around the outline of my lips.
“Right here, Coop.” He stepped around me, shielding me from his partner.
“Sorry to interrupt. I assume you’ll be leaving soon, and I wanted to check the talking points with you for the speech.”
I reached for Jackson’s hand. “Stay. Do the speech. I’ll wait.” Jackson had worked too hard to assert himself, to become an equal partner over the past two months, to lose this opportunity to appear before his employees as a leader.
When he turned to look at me, his gaze was soft and grateful and full of love. “We’ll do it now. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Alicia.” Cooper’s gaze flicked away from my face. I must’ve missed a smudge of lipstick.
“Cooper. Congratulations on the year-end results.” They’d announced them a few days ago. I wished my ratios were that good. But I’d get there. Eventually.
“Thank you.” He flashed me a glance that wasn’t as subzero as usual. Not quite friendly, but closer than when he’d stormed out of that conference room at the launch party. Could he and I eventually get to be friends?
“I’ll get a beer and find a spot to listen to your speech,” I said.
I stepped up next to Jackson to pass him, but he stopped me, whispering in my ear. “You must be tired from the flight. Go up to the sixth floor. You can relax in my office.”
Taking off my heels sounded pretty fantastic. I nodded and crossed the courtyard to reenter the lobby. After taking the elevator to the top floor, I stepped out into a bright, airy space. The converted mill’s original wide-plank floors glowed with the reflection of the skylight above.
Which way to go? There were four corner offices; surely the company’s cofounder had to have one of them. I strode across the floor toward the nearest one, weaving between the workspaces in the center.
The office was unlit, and the door was closed. The nameplate read Cooper Fallon. Cooper was downstairs, so I risked a peek through the glass wall. It looked the same as it had on that disastrous video call after the bad sushi incident. The day Cooper had accused us of an affair, and I’d told him I didn’t even like Jackson. I never lied, but I’d lied that day.
A chime sounded from someone’s workstation behind me, reminding me I was staring into the COO’s office. I glanced around. One of the other executives or their admins might still be up here. Weston, the CEO, whom I’d never met but whom Jackson had told me all about, might be prowling the floor. I backed away and went to the next corner office.
I’d lucked out. This door had Jackson’s name and his new title, VP of Development, on the plate. The door was closed, and the scanner light next to it glowed red.
Tentatively, I pushed the handle, but it didn’t budge. Jackson had told me to wait in his office. Were there cameras capturing my every move? Would a security guard burst onto the floor and escort me out? I tried to keep the apprehensive wince off my face as I extended the visitor badge clipped to my neckline toward the scanner. The light flashed green, and the lock clicked. With a victorious smile, I pushed the door open.
Unlike Cooper’s sunny office, Jackson’s was overshadowed by two adjacent, taller buildings. Still, some natural light filtered in from the two enormous windows and the glass front of his office.
A rug anchored a small seating area with a couch, a chaise, and two armchairs. Through a half-open door behind it, a small bathroom was visible. On the opposite wall, a bookshelf was stuffed with pieces of computer equipment: a pile of hard drives and another of circuit boards, a couple of disassembled laptops, a clear acrylic tray filled with screws.
Predictably, Jackson’s desk held a similar array of electronics, plus a few stacks of papers adorned with sticky notes and flags that said, “Sign here.” The enormous wood rectangle was big enough to support a docking station for Jackson’s laptop plus three big screen monitors. The monitor edges butted up against each other so Jackson could code without distraction from the windows or the front glass wall. It was a good setup for him. Marlee had probably arranged it.
“Alicia.” Jackson’s voice, breaking the stillness of the sixth floor, made me jump. I whirled around.
He stepped closer and interlaced his fingers with mine.
Without a word, he tugged me into his office. He closed the door behind him and flipped the bolt to lock it. He flicked a switch on the wall, and blinds rustled down, blocking out the rest of the office. He prowled toward me.
“How’d it go?” My voice came out high and breathy.
“Huh?”
“The speech.”
“Fine. But that’s not what I want to talk about now.”
“Oh?” He wanted to talk? He looked like he wanted to rip my clothes off and ravish me right there on the chaise. I couldn’t stop the smile that spread over my face or the tingle that started between my legs when I caught his hungry stare.
“I want to talk about how many times I can make you come here in my office before I have to carry you out.”
I shivered. “Oh.”
“Want to start on the desk?”
I pictured bending over the desk while Jackson entered me from behind. My thighs slicked; the thong was doing nothing to contain my arousal. We’d done it half a dozen times that way on his kitchen counter, Jackson so deep inside me my vision had blacked from the intensity of my orgasm. Somehow, though, that enormous expanse of wood was different.
I lifted my chin. “That desk is steeped in patriarchy. I’m not about to bend over it like some virgin in one of Marlee’s books.”
“‘Steeped in patriarchy?’” He chuckled. “Sounds serious.”
“Don’t laugh. Synergy has an appalling lack of female executives.”
His smile dissolved. “Something Cooper and I are working to address now. And Weston.” His lip curled as he said the CEO’s name. “Maybe when your gig with Jamila is done, I’ll be able to lure you into one of those executive positions.”
“Lure me into an executive position?” I quirked an eyebrow.
“Now who’s not being serious?” He took two strides toward me, lifted me, and dropped me on the edge of his desk. I laughed until he spread my knees apart and kneeled in front of me. “How’s this for an executive position?” He teased a finger along the scrap of fabric that covered me.
“I’ll take it.”
Without another word, he tugged my thong aside, spread me, and landed his mouth on my clit, circling it with his tongue in that figure-eight pattern I loved. His beard scratched against my thighs, warming them in a way I’d feel hours later. I leaned back on the desk, propped up by my arms. When his teeth scratched lightly across me, my back bowed.
He flattened his tongue over me and then sucked, stretching my clit. He popped off. “More?”
“More.” I’d gotten so used to coming silently on my vibrator in my bedroom next to Noah’s that I wasn’t used to giving the feedback Jackson craved. I tightened my thighs on the sides of his head. “More sucking.”
I felt his cheeks rise in a grin before he did exactly that. The pleasure radiated up from my clit, sparked my heart into a faster rhythm, and made my pulse pound in my ears. I curled my hands into fists. “Yes, Jackson, yes,” I whispered as I spiraled up and up into blackness and white noise. My body stiffened, and my mouth gaped in a silent scream.
When I floated back inside my body, Jackson was beaming up at me, his eyes glowing and his beard wet with me. He kissed the inside of my thigh, pink from beard burn. “Think we’ve crushed the patriarchy out of this desk?”
My voice was scratchy when I said, “It might take another session or two to fully eradicate it.”
“I’m up for that.” He rose to stand in front of me.
“I can see you’re up for it.” I set my hand on his belt buckle. “Want me to—”
He laid a hand over mine. “Not here. Let’s go back to my place. I think there might be some patriarchy hiding out in my bed.”
“Maybe some reverse cowgirl would take care of it.” I slid off the desk and twitched my hips, setting my skirt swinging.
“I can get behind that plan.” He stepped up behind me and smoothed his palms from my ribs down my front and between my legs.
“I thought we were going home?” Still, I pressed back against his erection.
“Home. I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too.”
He took my hand, and we stepped out of the office, knowing home wasn’t his apartment or even my mother’s place back in Austin. Home was wherever the two of us could be together. And soon, we’d be home all the time.