Friction(7)

"No.” She doesn’t hesitate to add, "It's a completely different situation."

“And what makes it so different?” My snide undertone gets to her because she jolts to the edge of her seat, her nostrils flaring as she grips the edges my desk.

"For starters, you are not my husband."

Ah, hell. I watch her, studying the harsh angles of her expression and half-expecting her to cry. She’s pissed me off more times than I can count, but I don’t want to see her in tears. My mum cried so much over my prick of a father when I was young that the sight of a woman sobbing still makes me feel helpless.

“And you're not cheating on me with someone we work with. So, with all due respect, I'd say our situation is very, very different."

For a moment, she looks stunned. Like she can’t believe she’s told me so much. Then her shoulders sag, and she squeezes her eyelids together. "I’m so sorry,” she gasps. “That was unprofessional, and it was too much information that—"

"Don't." She starts to speak again, so I interrupt her, holding my hand up. I don’t want her to make excuses for leaving her husband. "I mean it, don't apologize. I'd rather you be honest than give me some smiling, happy-go-lucky shit you’re pulling out of your arse about wanting to try something new. You left because your husband is a miserable piece of shit. That I can understand. And just so you understand, there’s no such thing as TMI.”

Her hazel eyes fly open. Breathing deeply, she trails her fingers from my desk and returns them to her lap. "Tom is definitely … a piece of work.” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. “And you're wrong. There is most certainly such a thing as TMI."

"Not in this building there isn’t,” I counter. “Working here, that's all you'll get."

She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. "Are you telling me I got the job?"

Now that she’s told me Duncan is no longer in the equation, there’s nothing I want more than to hire her so I can make her blush and stutter all day long without the presence of a guilty conscience. That’s also why I can’t give her the job. No fucking the employees, and Lucy Williams is two hundred percent fuckable.

"No, I’m not. I’m just giving you the facts, Williams."

“Oh. I see…”

I walk around my desk, noticing that she can’t take her eyes off me when I sit on the edge. "Let’s say I do offer you the position." I stretch my legs out in front of me, the toe of my boot nudging the leg of her chair. “When can you start?”

She starts to answer, but she hesitates and thinks for a moment. "I can start a week from now, on next Monday.” It’s another lie because she’s got that wild look in her eyes, the kind that only comes from desperation. She can start now, and I wonder what the hell had gone so wrong to make someone like Lucy Williams this hard up.

"Perfect." I push up from the desk and gaze down at her, my mouth turning down as I take in her expression. I can’t hire her. Hiring her will be bad for business—bad for my cock and state of mind—but Christ, she looks beautiful staring up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. "Thank you for coming today, Williams—”

"Lucy." She frowns. I’d like to kiss it away—just to see if she tastes as incredible as she smells. "If I'm supposed to call you Jace, please feel free to call me Lucy."

"I prefer Williams," I say. She bobs her head obediently, and my fingers spasm because I want to trail them through the black hair swinging around her breasts. "I've got a few more interviews between today and tomorrow, but I'll make my choice by Thursday."

"That sounds great. I'll look forward to hearing from you." She’s so shaky that when she stands up, she almost collides into me. I could get used to the scent pouring off her body. My sheets could get used to it. More reasons why I can’t hire Lucy. "Thank you for the opportunity, Jace."

I offer her my hand. “Pleasures all mine, Williams.” She looks down at the Roman numeral tattoos on my knuckles for so long, I finally groan and pull her hand in mine. She’s soft. Soft and silky, and she does awful, delicious things to my cock when her breath catches.

How many times have I thought about touching this woman?

How many times have I wondered what her fingers would feel like wrapped around me, stroking and squeezing until I reach the point of no return?

Too many, and now that we’re skin to skin, it’s a sin this is the first time I’ve touched her.

"I'll let you know my decision by Thursday.” Pulling away, I flex my fingers then shove them into my front pockets, so I won’t reach out to her again. For a moment, we stand in complete silence—Lucy with her eyes lowered to the floor and me with my face furrowed into a deep scowl. The second she looks back up, I flash my eyes to the door. The sooner I get her out of here, the better. “Ring Daisy if you have any questions.”

She blinks, but then takes a step away from me, swaying slightly in her high heels. "I will, thank you." Grabbing her purse and folder, she walks to the doorway, her shoulders sagging. "And if you need anything from me, please feel free to call or email."

I give her a half-smile. "I will, Williams."

I watch her leave, and I can’t stop staring at her ass. I shouldn’t hire her. She’s a distraction. She doesn’t know a fucking thing about what we do here, and if she did, she wouldn’t have strutted in my office talking about clocks and other bullshit. She’s a know-it-all. One that will claw her way under my skin faster than any woman I’ve ever met. It was her bitchy comment ten years ago that put me on this path to begin with, and I’ve never forgotten it.