Not Safe for Work(43)

Rick loosened his grasp, and we separated enough to meet each other’s gazes in the restroom’s cool light. God, weren’t we a pair. Here he was dressed like GQ, and here I was after three days without shaving. I hadn’t even worn a tie in I didn’t know how long.

I was out of breath, my hand unsteady as I touched his face. “This is insane.”

He ran his fingers through my damp hair. “I’m sorry. I know it’s—”

“No one’s going to catch us.” I pressed my foot against the door just to be sure. “I’m not worried.”

“No, I…I meant, it’s a little out of line.” He kissed me again. “Me taking charge.”

My shoulders sagged, and I held him tighter. “I don’t even care about that right now. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

The days-old fatigue was even heavier now. “I’m sorry about all this,” I whispered. “I know it’s… I mean we just…”

He pressed his lips to mine again. “It’s the nature of the beast in this business. It’s all right. I’ll have to put in some long hours sometimes too.”

“Still.” I touched my forehead to his. “This is killing me.”

“We’ll make up for lost time. When this is all over, anything you want…” He pulled me closer. “Anything. Just say the word.”

You. I just want you.

“I should let you get back to work.” He kissed me again, lightly this time, and we managed to pry ourselves apart. “I just…needed…”

“Me too.” And now I don’t want to stop. “But yeah, I should get back to work. This will be over soon. I promise.” Though it took a lot of energy, I added in my Dom voice, “And then you’re all mine.”

The result was worth the effort: Rick pulled in a breath and tugged at his tie. “Yes, please. I can’t wait.”

“I won’t keep you waiting long.”

As much as I wanted to, I didn’t dare risk another kiss, or we’d have been there all day. So, we straightened our clothes, as if we’d really rumpled them all that much. Then we walked out of the men’s room as if nothing had happened.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be doing this?” he asked. “The crazy hours?”

I shrugged. “I still have a few more models to finish. Maybe another week?” Jesus. Seven more days of this shit. I was going to collapse, I was sure of it. Rubbing the back of my neck, I muttered, “I’m getting too old for this.”

“How many of your projects are mine?”

I halted, because I suddenly couldn’t think and walk at the same time. “Three, I think? They’re…they kind of blur together after a while.”

Rick pursed his lips. “Let me see what I can do about shifting the schedule around. I don’t want to run you into the ground like this.” His cheeks darkened. “I mean…um…”

I managed a quiet laugh. “I know what you meant. And I appreciate it, but you don’t have to. I can do this.”

He shook his head. “No. You need a break.”

The Dom in me wanted to put my hands up and insist that, no, I could do this. I did not need someone to lighten my workload for me.

But pride was no match for exhaustion, so I just sighed. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Because I need to see you again.” The desperation in his voice made my knees shake.

“You’re not the only one. And I promise, we’re going to make up for lost time.”

Rick shivered. “I can’t wait. Let me know when you’re free again, and I’ll make sure my schedule is clear for you.”

I looked him in the eye and growled, “Damn right you will.”

His breath hitched.

Jesus. I want you.

“I really should go,” I said. Before I drag you right back into that men’s room and get myself fired.

He nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I mean it—as soon as you’re free.”

“Absolutely.”

We headed in separate directions, and I almost made it to the elevator before a voice barked, “McNeill!”

Oh for f*ck’s sake. What now?

I turned around to see Mitchell striding toward me, shoulders back and jaw set. “Yes, sir?”

He stopped in front of me and pointed in the direction Rick had gone. “Would you like to tell me what that was all about?”

“What—” My blood turned to ice. Shit. How much had he seen? “Sorry?”

He stabbed his finger in that direction again. “Did I just see you having a conversation with Rick Pierce?”

“I, uh… We were…” I cleared my throat. “He just had a question for me about—”

“A question? About what?” He stepped closer, invading my personal space enough to raise my hackles.

I thought as quickly as my tired brain could think. “He wanted to know about—”

“Mr. McNeill.” He pushed out a sharp breath. “I don’t need to tell you how important it is that we keep Horizon Developing happy. That’s why everything Rick Pierce or Dion want to know needs to go through a properly informed liaison. Am I clear?”