Friction(44)

Better for me.

At least, that’s what I tell myself when my hand is pumping my cock later. But when I close my eyes—right before I blow my load—her face is the only one I see.



“Williams, get over here.”

Her shoulders tighten, but she turns from her office door and approaches the workshop tentatively. I pull off my safety glasses and stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans. “Is there something you need from me?”

A good, hard fuck. My name on your lips. Your taste on mine. There are so many things I need from you, Lucy, that I’m close to exploding.

“Your opinion.” I nod at the gleaming metal table separating our bodies. After sleeping like shit last night, I came in a few hours ago to finish Bailon’s table. I had planned to call him to let him know, but I lost interest the second I saw that she was thirty minutes early. “What do you think?”

She takes a step forward and skims her fingers along the ankle restraints. And she trembles. Fuck, it shouldn’t get to me that she does that, but it does and my dick rises to the occasion when she faces me with parted lips and hooded hazel eyes. “Is this for Mr. B?” I nod and move close to her, and her breath hitches. “It’s … nice.”

“Nice is for the metal fence in your backyard, love. This—this is a masterpiece.”

“Confident, Exley?”

“About this I am.”

She traces her finger along the ankle restraint and then crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you delivering it today?”

“In a few weeks.” Gripping the edge of the table, I lean against it. Her gaze follows, stopping at my bicep. “He’s unveiling it at one of his parties.”

“I see.” When I shift, causing my muscles to flex beneath my flannel sleeve, she blinks and swallows hard. “He’ll love it. After all, it’s a masterpiece and—”

“Look at me, Williams.” What a stupid fucking thing to say to her. But I want her eyes on mine. Want to drink in the sight of her because if I can’t have her—won’t let myself have her—at least I can look at her. “I wanted to apologize for being a shit yesterday.”

Keeping her arms crossed over her tits, she tugs on the top button of her red blouse. “It’s fine. Did you have a chance to check your schedule?”

I slide closer, breathing her in, memorizing her scent. “Look at me, Williams.”

“I’d really like to give Allene an answer today so we can make sure it’s advertised properly. This is such a fantastic opportunity for EXtreme, and—” She gasps as my fingers close around the hand clutching at her buttons. “Jace…”

“If it’s in your way, love,” I start, pushing her hand aside. “Just undo it.”

With a flick of my thumb, the first button parts, exposing her creamy skin. It’s another mistake on my part, and we’re both silent for a beat as she stares down at the tattoos on my knuckles. Finally, she tilts her chin up and our eyes meet. “The interview…” she says hoarsely.

When the sound of Griff and Daisy’s voices pour into the workshop, and I catch a glimpse of both out the corner of my eye, I drop my hand from her blouse. “Schedule it for anytime next week, and I’ll make sure I’m there.”

“Perfect.” She takes a step backward and splays her fingers over her collarbone, rubbing them vigorously over the spot I’d touched. “You won’t regret it, Jace. I promise it will be great.”

But I’m already regretting it.

Regretting hiring her.

Regretting touching her.

Regretting that I can’t have what I want from her.





Sixteen





Lucy





8:32 AM: A BDSM shop, Luce? You’ve got to be shitting me. Is this why you’re not coming home to SF?

“Son of a bitch.” I glare down at Tom’s text and the screenshot of my contact information and photo on our website’s staff page and shake my head incredulously. “Why are you texting me at 5:30 on a Friday morning?” Hell, why is he texting me at all?

8:33 AM: I know you’re getting my messages. We need to talk.

Pausing a few feet from my desk, I fire off a response—It’s not what’s keeping me from returning to San Francisco, but if you want to redirect blame… And we’re talking now. I have no desire to make it verbal.

I drop my phone into my purse and plop down in my chair, spilling coffee down the front of my white blouse. It’s lukewarm—I had picked it up before leaving Worcester over an hour ago—but I still curse aloud at the giant stain seeping through to my bra. "Can this day get any—" I start, but a voice, the one with the faint British accent that drives me insane, interrupts me from the hallway.

"Daisy said you wanted to talk to me." I glance up to see Jace striding into my office uninvited. Leaning one shoulder against the doorway, he nods to my top. "There’s coffee on your shirt.”

Sucking in a breath through my teeth, I grab a crushed paper towel and pat the stain. It only makes it worse, much to my irritation. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

“Was there something you needed from me?”

"I spoke to Allene last night, she wants to do that interview on Thursday evening. You’re still fine with that?”