The Hating Game(64)

“You haven’t answered, though.”

“He’s the sensible option. I’m not doing many sensible things with my evenings these days. I’m glad I didn’t call him. I’d probably be sitting in a movie, instead of here.” I bounce a little on his lap.

Josh tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite work. “I’d go to a movie with you. Look, it’s getting late.”

His hands slide down my back to grip my butt. He tilts me, and drags me down the hardness of his arousal. Then he lifts me off and sets me aside.

He sits forward on the edge of the couch and puts his face in his hands. He’s breathing as heavily as I am. It does my ego no harm.

“Fuck.” He sighs it. “I am so turned on,” he says with an embarrassed half laugh, and I completely understand his desperation.

He’s surely got to be wondering why he’s subjecting himself to this. He’s an adult man, reduced to teenage make-out sessions with his weird colleague.

“Do you want to hear how turned on I am?”

“I’d better not,” he manages.

“I guess I should go home.” I pray he tells me to stay. He doesn’t.

He talks through his hands. “Give me a minute.”

I take our mugs and my bowl into the kitchen and rinse the bowl. I look at the frying pan and put it in the sink and fill it with hot water and suds. My legs are trembling and doing a poor job of holding me upright.

“I’ll do it,” Josh says behind me. “Leave it.”

My eyes badly want to drop below his waist, but because I am a lady I resist.

He feeds my arms into my coat and we both put our shoes on. We carefully stand on the opposite ends of the elevator, but we stare at each other like we’re one second away from slamming the elevator to an emergency stop to put ourselves out of our misery.

“I feel like your Easter egg.”

He catches my hand at the curb and walks across the street with me. When we reach my car, I tilt my mouth up to his. He carefully takes my face in his hands and he kisses me. A simultaneous shocked gasp rocks us. It’s like we haven’t kissed in an eternity. He presses me against the car door and I whimper. Tongues, teeth, breath.

“You taste like my Easter egg.”

“Please, please. I need you so badly.”

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” he replies. He turns me in his arms, and presses his mouth against the back of my neck. Even through my hair, the heat of his breath makes me inhale so hard it’s more of a snort.

“Is this an asshole control-freak thing?” I wriggle free.

“Possibly. Sounds consistent with my character.”

I have a thought. “Are you planning on sexing me comatose on the morning of the interview so you beat me?”

Josh puts his hands in his pockets. “It’s worked for every other promotion I’ve gotten in my life. Why stop now?”

“You want to make sure I’m all over you like a rash at the wedding.”

Something about the look on his face makes me step back and press my back to the cold door of my car.

“You haven’t lied and told them all about the brain surgeon you’re betrothed to?”

He smiles. “Dr. Lucy Hutton, MD. She’s brilliant, yet unorthodox.”

“I’m serious. Answer the question. I’m coming as me, aren’t I? I’m not supposed to be acting?”

“No.”

I bite my thumb and look down the street. Why do I feel like he’s lying?

“Well, I’m beginning to think you’re leaving me horny to make sure I’ll keep coming back here. I’m like a cat. You’re leaving out a saucer of cream.”

Josh laughs, a big proper laugh like I’m hilarious. Delighted, irritated electricity floods me. I’m crackling with it. In this moment, I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.

Fight with me, kiss me. Laugh at me. Tell me if you’re sad. Don’t make me go home.

“We’ll have to see if it’s true. If you’re back tomorrow night, I’ll concede it’s part of a deliberate strategy.” He looks down at me with undisguised pleasure.

The thought of returning didn’t properly occur to me. The following day now glows with promise.

“One more.”

He kisses my cheek and I groan in misery.

“Get outta here, Shortcake. And remember, I don’t want to see you freaking out tomorrow.”

I can’t get my seat belt on properly. I’m so wired it’s like I’m having drug withdrawals. He taps my window to make me lock the door.

I’m halfway home when a scary thought crystallizes.

I can’t wait for work tomorrow.

TODAY HIS SHIRT is the color of a saucer of cream.

Act natural, Lucy. Walk in there like sex on legs. No awkwardness. Go.

He looks at me, my ankle wobbles, and I drop my handbag. The lid of my lunchbox pops off and a tomato rolls across the floor. I drop to my hands and knees and my stiletto heel gets caught on the dangling buckle belt of my coat.

“Crap.” I try to crawl.

“Smooth.” Josh gets up and walks to me.

“Shuddup.”

He unhooks my coat and gathers up my lunch, before holding a hand down to me. I hesitate minutely before I take it, letting him haul me up.