Ten days, twelve hours and twenty-two minutes since she’d returned from Vegas and Synthia still hadn’t recovered from the storm that was Tristan Dawson. She couldn’t turn around in the office without seeing him, and forget about sleeping because every time she closed her eyes, there he was, taunting her.
The dreams she could deal with. At least they weren’t public knowledge. But the days at work had become a version of water torture.
The two of them had retreated to their separate corners as usual, but they didn’t even speak. And if they did, it was with that tight politeness she’d instituted in Vegas.
She finally understood. All those women she’d seen falling at his feet and practically, if not literally, throwing themselves at him, she got it. She was a member of that fan club. Even had the damn T-shirt.
But now that was all over and she was supposed to just pretend it never happened? She wasn’t that good. It didn’t help that sometimes she’d catch him looking at her. And not in the hot, speculative way he used to, but more in the hot “I know what you taste like and I want some more” kind of way.
A brief knock on her door brought her out of her reverie and Olivia sauntered in without knocking. “Do you want to tell me what in the world is going on with you and Tristan Dawson?”
Oh, crap. Lying was not one of her skills. But she didn’t want to go into it. Liv would give her the “Are you out of your damn mind?” look, then possibly slap her for her stupidity.
“What do you mean?”
Olivia frowned as she scrutinized her. “Well, for starters, you guys haven’t had a single knock-down, drag-out fight in nearly two weeks. I keep popcorn in my desk just for those occasions. Second, you two were entirely too polite to each other in this morning’s staff meeting. Third, I just got the word from Bryan that the new Wilkinson campaign is a go and I asked Tristan if he would try to wrestle you for the client and all he did was shake his head and say you deserved it. Not to mention the way he’s been staring at you. Girl, it’s hotter than ever. If he looked at me that way, I might forget he’s a walking advertisement for Trojan and jump his bones.” Liv sank into the leather seat across from her. “So spill.”
When in doubt deny. “Sorry, Liv, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bull.” She leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger her way. “And you’re a bad liar, so don’t even start. What in the world happened in Vegas?”
Syn sighed. “Would you believe we buried something in the desert?”
“I’d only believe that if it was his dead body. C’mon, what’s with you?”
“We sort of called a truce, buried the hatchet.”
Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “And by bury, do you mean bone?”
“Liv!”
“Honey, I’m just saying the intense gazes, the way you guys don’t look at each other... This reeks of—” Liv’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my, you really did sleep with him.”
“Would you keep your voice down?” Synthia whispered. “I do not need this getting out.”
Liv leaned forward and muttered in an exaggerated whisper, “I’ll keep my voice down if you tell me the truth. Consider me a vault of information.”
Heat spread over Synthia’s skin as she said, “Fine. I slept with him.”
Olivia blinked. Her mouth moved, but nothing came out. Finally she shook her head and tried again. “Okay, first things first... How was it?”
Syn nodded. “He’s every bit as good as he thinks he is.”
Liv fake-swooned. “Oh God. Is it okay that I’m equal parts mortified and equal parts totally jealous?”
“Yeah, I’m mortified too. Well, more mortified that I was so reckless. Now we’re having to deal with the aftermath.”
“Okay, start from the beginning. Leave nothing out.”
As Synthia recounted the story, Olivia sat forward listening intently. Finally she spoke. “So you want to sleep with him again.”
Yes. “No. Of course not. It’s better this way. It’s just awkward. I mean, I don’t have flings. I keep it professional. This is my career, my life.”
“I mean, you said you sort of like him.”
“I said I understand him better. He’s not so bad.” And she liked him.
“So you’re saying there’s no way you’re going to enjoy him now that you’re back?”
Syn sighed. “Well, he made it pretty clear that it was only temporary, and I don’t know what I want. And this is my career we’re talking about. I don’t need the gossip. I want to be judged on my work and not who I was dumb enough to sleep with.” Even if she did want him so bad the weaker part of her wasn’t opposed to begging.
“Everyone knows how good you are, Syn.”
“Trust me, they’ll forget. Soon enough, this will be the narrative. Besides, he was temporary. More important, I was just another girl in the long line of temporary for him.”
Olivia frowned. “Maybe you weren’t. He looks like he’s pretty beat up about something.”
Syn tilted her chin up. “I promise you it isn’t me.”
* * *
Tristan tried to keep his focus. It was hard enough that he had a lot to prepare for the Bliss presentation, but every time he thought his head was clear, Syn would work her way in. They’d managed to keep their distance, but it wasn’t exactly easy. Staff meetings were mandatory, but he’d taken to slipping in just before they started so he could avoid her. Unfortunately today it seemed that she had the same idea. Cue awkward dance in the doorway, where her perfume had swirled around him making him foggy and incoherent for several seconds. He’d been completely useless the rest of the day.
Now with everyone gone for the day, he could finally get some work done.
Stacking his material, he headed to the conference room for more space. He wanted to spread out to look at what he’d pulled for his presentation. Every office and cube on this half of the floor was dark.
He turned the corner to find the lights in the conference room already on. What the? “Hey, is anyone still here—”
He halted short and took in the view, a woman bent over the table and fiddled with the projector, her leather pencil skirt pulled tight over her taut behind. Syn. She jumped with surprise and whirled around. “Tristan. I didn’t know anyone else was still here.”
He tried to swallow around the sawdust in his mouth. In Vegas he’d been fool enough to think he could forget about everything that had happened. He knew better now. He wanted her, but more than that, he wanted to be with her.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to surprise you.” He set down his binders and charts on the long rectangular table. “Do you need help with the projector?” If she was working in here, he’d have to use the smaller conference room at the end of the hall.
“I think I got it.” She turned round again and stretched to reach the last cable. With each stretch, the fabric pulled over her butt again and he groaned.
She froze. For a long breath neither of them moved. She met his gaze in the reflection of the window. Her lips parted and her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. When she sucked her bottom lip in and grazed it with her teeth, his tenuous hold on his control snapped.
He slid his hand up over her back, and then back down over her ass. Her breath came out as a little huff and she widened her stance.
His voice was thick as he spoke. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
“What happened to going back to normal?”
With shaking hands, he bracketed her hips and slowly turned her around to face him. “I was clearly an idiot.”
He paused just a breath from kissing her. A shudder ran through her body and she parted her lips. “What are you doing?”
“Something I’ve been thinking about doing since we got back.”
The kiss started off sweet. Just a peck, their lips barely even touching. More of an exchange of breaths. But then he kissed her again, and the same dangerous spark that had ignited between them in Vegas grew and spread, until his skin itched with the need to touch her.
Tentatively she touched her tongue to his and it took all his control not to take over the kiss. She was testing him out. Seeing if she could trust him. With a soft moan she settled into the kiss, dipping her tongue into his mouth, toying with his. She wound her hands into his hair, drawing him to her, closer, arching her body into his.
He released her for the briefest of moments to lock the door and ensure their privacy. Then with trembling hands, he released the pin that held her bun together. For two weeks he’d been dying to do that. To see his Syn, the secret Syn, the one no one else knew. One hand toyed with the silken tresses while the other fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. The deep V had taunted him all through the staff meeting.
She helped out by tugging her blouse out of her skirt, and then she went for the zipper on his jeans.
The only sound that permeated the silence of the conference room was his moans as she scored her nails down his back. Followed by her mewling sounds when he yanked down the cups of her delicate bra, freeing her breasts.
Tristan tore his lips from her. “Wow, I missed you.”
He kissed his way along her jawline to the column of her neck, to her collarbone and finally to her breast. Full and ripe, the chocolate-tipped peaks beckoned to him. Gently he laid her back on the conference table and stepped deeper between her legs. Dipping his head, he hovered just over one nipple, gently blowing on it. She arched her back into him impatiently. He pulled a dark bud into his mouth and she called out, “Tristan.”
He suckled gently and she rolled her hips against him impatiently.
Sliding his hands under her skirt, he paused for a moment just as his fingers approached her soft center. “Are there any surprises here for me?”
Harsh breaths tore from her throat. “Maybe.”
“I do like surprises.”
He slid a finger past her panty line and growled. “I see you’re still smooth.”
“Surprise.”
Chuckling, Tristan hooked his finger in her panties and tugged down. She scooted to the edge, lifting her hips to help him. He released her breast and pulled back. Lowering himself to his knees, he hiked her skirt all the way up.
The heather-soft skin of her sex glistened with moisture. Beckoning him. When he licked her, her hips bucked off the table and he wrapped his hands around her thighs to keep them wide.
He took his time stroking her soft folds with his tongue while he teased her clit with his thumb.
As he tasted and teased, he knew the moment she was close. The quiver in her legs always gave it away. Pulling back and standing, his movements hurried yet efficient, he retrieved a condom and sheathed himself.
Syn watched him intently, and he didn’t tear his gaze from hers.
Tristan joined their bodies. Inch by inch, he slid into her silken depths, losing a piece of himself as he went.
One word buzzed through his head as her body stroked his cock like a pulsing glove. Home.