Meet Me Halfway(35)

Choosing to ignore his comment, I asked, “Is there something I can help you with? Evaline should be back from lunch soon. I’m sorry if you called one of us, I’ve been stuck making copies for several minutes.”

“I knew Evaline was out.” His eyes trailed down my body, and I took an instinctual step away, bumping into the printer and shifting it back an inch with an ear-cringing screech.

“Okay, well, I’m trying to head out to lunch myself soon, so I need to finish these up. Leave a note on my desk for whatever you need, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Let me take you to lunch.”

“Oh.” Not a chance in hell. “No, thank you. I was planning on heading home during my lunch break today.” I wasn’t. It’d take my entire break to go home and get back.

“Dinner then.” He closed another foot of distance, and my panic was now clawing at me, closing off my throat.

“I can’t. I have class in the evenings during the week and work nights on the weekends.” My internal dialogue screamed at me to just tell him no, I wasn’t interested and never would be. “I’m sorry.”

His brow creased, “Where else do you work?”

Fumbling for the stack of papers next to me, I picked them up, holding them to my chest like a shield. “I work several places.” I forced a laugh, “I’m just really busy so again, I’m sorry. If you’ll excuse me.”

I moved to edge around him, but he reached an arm out, blocking my path. “I want to see you outside of work, Madison. Tell me what day, and I’ll make it happen.”

My body was tensed so tight, I’d shatter if I fell. “I can’t, Rob. Will you please let me pass?”

His eyes narrowed on me like I was misleading him in some way. “Do you have a boyfriend? Is that it? I’ve never heard you mention one.”

“I don’t. I told you, I work a lot.”

He leaned in, his cologne stabbing into my nostrils, tempting me to hold my breath. “I’ll take you somewhere nice. You can get all dolled up with your hair down and a pretty dress.”

Is that really what he thought would change my mind? All that sounded like to me was a lot of damn work. And for what? A free meal and a gag-worthy one-night stand? Hard pass.

“No, thank you. Please let me by, I need to finish these up before I leave.”

I nudged my stack of papers against his arm, internally begging him to move. He regularly pushed past my comfort zone, but he always pulled back before it went this far. It gave me a bad feeling, and I’d bet my paycheck Jim wasn’t in the building either.

He dropped his arm, but instead of allowing me by, he replaced it with his chest, smashing my personal bubble into a million pieces. My eyes widened of their own accord, and the sound I made was something I’d remember long after this nightmare ended.

“I know women like to play hard to get, but I have to say, Madison, I’m not impressed.”

I hugged my arms closer, digging my nails in until I broke skin. “I’m not trying to impress you; I’m trying to leave. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“I know you want me.”

“Excuse me?”

His arm darted forward, wrapping around my ass and squeezing, pulling me against him. “You wouldn’t wear these short, sexy dresses if you weren’t trying to get my attention.”

My dresses weren’t even short. I didn’t own a single one that went more than an inch above my kneecaps. Not that it would matter anyway. I could wear a leather mini skirt, and it still wouldn’t mean I was asking to be touched. I dressed to make myself feel pretty, not to please cocky, egocentric men.

His lips coasted over my ear, his breath leaving a damp film in its wake. “You teased me on purpose. You can’t offer dessert on a silver platter and then refuse to share a bite.”

The feel of his tongue gliding up my earlobe was going to haunt me, and my shoulders shot up to block him. My mind splintered, the past and present mixing together into a toxic combination and sending black spots into my vision. I could taste bile. “Let go.”

“Stop lying to yourself, darlin’.”

He smashed his mouth onto mine, ramming his tongue against the seam of my lips trying to force them open. I twisted my head, blindly kicking at his ankles. I wanted to fight, to flail and slap and scratch, but my arms were pinned against me, the papers slicing into the tender skin on the inside of my arms.

He didn’t let up. He groaned, like my fight was everything he’d ever imagined, like I was playing right into his fantasy. He ground against me, the lump in his slacks digging into my inner thigh.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t even open my mouth to scream without his tongue shoving through. So instead, I did the opposite.

I shut down.

I went to the dark corner of my mind, the one I hadn’t had to escape to in years, and I stopped. I stopped twisting. I stopped fighting. I stopped thinking. I. Just. Stopped.

If there was one harsh truth I’d had forcibly ingrained in my head in my twenty-five years, it was that some men liked their women willing, and some liked them unwilling. But very few liked to grope a boneless shell.

In the safety of my corner, I was curled up in a fetal position, raging and tearing my hair out. But on the outside, I was motionless, my eyes wide open, staring over his shoulder at a spot on the wall. I let him paw at me, refusing to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another second of my emotions.