Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(22)

Didn’t think about me, my ass.

She clearly had some loyalty to our memories if she’d kept it all these years.

She reached over, clicked her mouse, and started to stand up when she realized I was watching her.

“Jesus Christ, Reid,” she huffed, steadying herself with her hands on her desk. The bent over position she was in had a few naughty thoughts running through my head. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” I laughed. Proving I wasn’t sorry at all. The old Nora used to get a kick out of sneaking up on someone, and vice versa. Judging by the look on her face she’d outgrown the somewhat childish game.

“What are you doing here?” she said, straightening up to cross her arms over chest. The way she was trying to relay that she was unimpressed with my sudden appearance was doing nothing but pushing her tits up in the fitted navy dress she was wearing. It clung to her chest and cinched her waist to almost nothing before flaring out around her hips. The hemline hit her mid-thigh and all I could think about was how fantastic her legs look. Even more, how fantastic they would look wrapped around my waist when I finally convinced her to be with me.

“You know, as much as I miss you in a pair of shorts, these little outfits you wear for work are really working for you. I’m digging it.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked again, trying to act like my compliment hadn’t flustered her. The blush in her cheeks said otherwise. “Or are you here to discuss my fashion choices?” She brushed her hands down the front of her dress before placing them on her hips.

“Not your fashion choices, sweetheart,” I assured her as I walked around her office, non-nonchalantly checking the place out. “Maybe your taste in boyfriends, but definitely not what you’re wearing.”

“Neither of which I feel like discussing with you. Unless you want to talk about my mistake of dating you?”

“Not a mistake,” I told her, walking over to rest against the edge of her desk. “But fine. No talk of current * boyfriends.”

“What’s in the bag?” Her curiosity had her checking out more than just me.

“Peace offering.” I held up the bag so she could see the logo. “I shouldn’t have called you the other night.”

“Chocolate Long John?”

“Of course.” I smiled.

“You remembered.” She smiled back.

“I remember everything about you.” I promised, handing her the bag. She took it and sat it down on her desk. It felt to me like she was fighting a battle to not say something. The obvious tension in her face had me thinking on the fly to put her at ease. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or nervous around me. I wanted her to remember how easy it was to be with me. I grabbed the butterfly paperweight sitting on the corner and tossed it up before catching it. “Gift from your mom?”

“How’d you know?”

“Looks like something Becky would pick out.” I chuckled. “How is she?”

“Good,” she said shortly.

“And your dad? Still trying to bag that sixteen point buck he swears he saw on Mitchell’s property?”

“You could always go visit them if you wanted to know. Then you wouldn’t have to come into my office and bother me.”

“Nah. I think I’d rather bother you.”

“What do you want from me, Reid?”

“I want you to admit that dating Beau is a terrible idea.”

“I thought you said... never mind,” she huffed. “Guess we will talk about it. It’s not a terrible idea. It’s my idea and I, unlike you, can live with the choices I’ve made.”

“Can you?” I paused, reaching out to brush my fingers down her arm. The trail of goosebumps that appeared had me curious as to if I could make them appear all over her body. “I can tell you from personal experience that some choices are impossible to live with.”

“Is that right?” she asked, skeptically.

“Sure is.” I nodded “Some choices damn near kill you and just when you think you can live with them, that you can finally stand to live with what you’ve done, you see something that knocks you right back down.”

“Well that’s your problem,” she said. Her eyes stared down at her desk and pushed a pen with her finger.

“It’s our problem, Nora,” I said. Her eyes darted to mine. “I know you still think about me.” She started to shake her head, but I kept pressing her. I pointed at the ribbon on the board. “I know you’ve thought about what it would be like if I came back.”

“Maybe I used to,” she reached up and tugged the ribbon from the board. The tack holding it in place fell to the floor. “Ancient history.” She held the ribbon out to me and when I didn’t take it she pressed it against my chest. “I’m over it.”

“No you’re not.” I trapped her hand underneath mine and stood to face her. “You feel my heart beating right now,” I said, moving her hand directly over my heart. “You feel how fast it’s racing. I bet yours is beating just as fast.”

“It’s not,” she assured me, but the second I stepped toward her and closed the feet between us, I moved my fingers to her wrist.

“I can feel it,” I told her, pressing her pulse point. “After all these years we still have an effect on each other.” I smiled and moved us until her back was resting against her office wall. Her lips parted as she sucked in a breath when I placed my free hand on the wall beside her. “I still make your heart race.” I leaned and brushed my lips just below her ear. “I still know what makes you tick. What turns you on.” A quiet moan broke from her lips. I released my hand from around her wrist and dropped it to the hem of her dress, dusting my fingertips up her thigh. The blood rushed to my dick and it pulsed against my zipper. “I still know what makes you wet,” I whispered into her ear, my lips grazing the tip of her ear lobe.