Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(25)

He doubted it, but didn’t want to discuss it. “You need to go now.”

She rose up taller, or rather, her sig rose and expanded, filling the room with its shimmering glow. “Why?” she asked. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t care if he wanted to talk about it or not. Tough shit for him, her body language said. Spill it anyway.

“Look,” he said. “I promised not to touch you. I can’t keep that promise anymore.”

She drifted closer, a cloud of sunset colors. Her scent washed over his senses. His supercharged synesthesia translated her aroma into colors in his head. He wanted to strip her bare. His hands flexed with the impulse to seize her. It almost overcame him.

“Leave.” His voice was tight. “I paid you.”

“No,” she said.

“You finished your dance. You said there could be nothing more. So go.”

“Shhh.” She stretched up, touching his cheek with soft, cool fingertips. Then, to his astonishment, she pressed a hot, soft kiss to his jaw.

“This is not helping,” he growled.

She rose up on her bare feet, her mouth near his. Never quite getting there. No kiss . . . just the caressing heat of her breath. The teasing promise of . . . maybe . . . almost.

He was so close to losing control, he didn’t dare inhale.

He stepped back. Not far enough. The sweetness of her perfume taunted him.

She didn’t move. Not one inch. She was enjoying this, feeling her power. It made his teeth grind, and his dick ache.

“You’re still here,” he said.

“I’m not ready to leave.” Her voice was a drifting whisper. “I like the way this makes me feel.”

“I’m ready,” he said. “And it’s my goddamn office.”

“Yes. After hours. And we’re alone. More or less.” She closed the slight distance between them with a single step.

So she was seducing him. He got the message—but he still didn’t dare breathe.

Then she took his hand, and pressed it against her bare belly.

They both inhaled sharply. She was flower-petal smooth against the hard, callused skin of his palm. A flash of hot lust pumped through him.

A swift, shocked ripple went through her, as if she’d had a small orgasm, and then her hand fastened over his, holding it firmly in place. As if she welcomed the touch but didn’t dare allow his hand to wander elsewhere.

“Take the envelope,” he said. “Put it in your bag, and we’re square.”

Her fingers tightened on his hand.

“I asked for a service, you provided it, I paid you,” he said stubbornly. All business. Meeting over. Too bad his dick didn’t get the memo. He was about to explode.

Without saying a word, she turned and headed to the bathroom, purple veils fluttering behind her.

He didn’t have to wait for her to return. But he knew that he would.

She was back minutes later, wearing jeans and a baggy black T-shirt. His exotic dancing maiden was gone but she was as beautiful as ever. Her real hair was a thick, curly dark cloud, caught up in back in a tousled knot of twisted ringlets. Some of them dangled around her face.

“Sorry,” he said stiffly. “That got out of hand.”

“It’s OK. Not your fault.” She looked down at herself. “I thought it was better to have this conversation in street clothes,” she said. “To see if the fantasy melted away for you without the props. Better for both of us to know right now.”

He looked her up and down. Blood roared in his ears. “That’s not happening.”

Her sig pulsed, excited pinks and reds. “So?”

“I promised not to touch you, and I broke that promise. With your help.”

She nodded reluctantly.

“If you stay here, I’ll break it again. Let me put that right out in the open.”

Her eyes were pools of shadow, but with his infrared he saw the pain and longing in them. “I . . . I can’t do this,” she murmured.

“Why? Are you married? Involved with someone?”

“No.” Her answer came without hesitation.

“Then what’s the problem?”

She shook her head, after a long pause. “That’s nobody’s business.”

“True,” he said. “And yet you’re still here.”

Her chin went up. “Your sister mentioned that you were celebrating your engagement. Was the woman who sat next to you today your fiancée?”

“Not an issue,” he said.

“It is for me.” Her voice had an edge.

“OK. We can call it even.” He took Simone’s ring out of his desk and displayed it. “I was engaged. Now I’m not. I wouldn’t have requested a private dance otherwise.”

She looked shocked. “Wait. Did you break it off because of my—because we—”

“No. Not at all.” He tossed the ring back into the drawer. “I wasn’t all that engaged to begin with. I know that now, thanks to you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I’m a free man. Have dinner with me,” he found himself saying. “Anywhere. Any kind of food you feel like. Or we can just have a drink. Anything is fine. Your call.”