“No touching,” I tell him.
Twenty feet away, I see Billy, who has a stunning but bitchy-looking blonde on his arm. He turns his head and frowns, as if he heard me and didn’t like it.
Brick makes a sound of frustration but drops my elbow.
“I’m going to let Genevieve know you’re here. She wants you to take the stage and welcome everyone to kick the night off.”
“We’re staying for thirty minutes, and then we’re gone.”
“I’m not leaving with you, bossman. It’s simply not happening. And I will stay as long as I want.” I cut away to find Genevieve, not looking back to see how Blackthroat took that.
This thing with Brick is getting out of hand. I’m losing control, and I don’t like that feeling.
I find Genevieve to deliver the information, and while she and Blackthroat take the stage, I make a beeline for the open bar.
“You know what happens to secretaries who fuck their bosses?” I instantly recognize the condescending voice beside me. I think I’ll start calling Billy
Draco Malfoy behind his back.
I turn and blink at him. “What?” I ask with my business-polite voice.
“Nothing good.”
I snort. “Inventive. Did you stay up all night thinking of that zinger?”
The glower he gives me is so hateful it unnerves me, and I have nerves of steel. God, what did I ever do to this guy to earn such spite?
He leans into my personal space. “I’m onto you, Evans. You won’t be running that smart mouth when Brick finds out what you’re really about.” He takes his drink and walks off, leaving me staring.
He’s onto me?
What the hell does that mean?
That he knows I’m having sex with Brick? Or does he mean something else?
A sense of misgiving moves through me. I knew when I took this job it would be a hard one to keep. Still, things are different now. Getting fired would mean something went awry between Brick and me. And that…makes my stomach churn.
But I haven’t done anything harmful to Moon Co. In fact, I’ve worked my ass off to make sure its CEO can function at top performance level. Unless you count the time when he’s busy making us both come.
I look up to drink in the sight of my boss on the stage. Blackthroat stands beside Genevieve with his hands in his pockets, glowering in my direction. Just the sight of him in that tuxedo, exuding his unique brand of scornful power, weakens my knees.
Brick Blackthroat. My Big Bad Boss. The man dangerously close to luring me in. He takes the microphone from Genevieve, and I have the sudden urge to run.
Very fast.
Away from this event.
It’s been too much-finding out about my parentage, getting sniped at by Billy, beginning to want more from Brick.
I need to gather my head.
As my sexy boss offers a curt greeting to his employees, I duck out the door, pick up my coat from the coat check, and get in an elevator. I don’t owe him my presence here tonight. Well, I suppose I technically do, but he’s not going to fire me over it. My job is now too entwined with sex. With our non-relationship relationship.
When we blow up, it all blows up, and I doubt it will be over this although it’s possible I’m trying to move that date forward every time I rebel against him.
I step out of the elevator and debate how to get home. Considering the weather and my attire, I probably need a cab. The doorman holds the door for me, and I step out.
“Taxi?”
“She’s going with me,” Brick snarls from behind us.
I whirl to see his eyes flashing a strange shade of amber in the light. He reaches a hand for my hip in a possessive gesture as he thrusts his valet ticket at the attendant.
For some reason, none of my usual snappy responses come to mind. I’m too tired. My brain is churning too much on the Harringtons and my mom and the fact that everyone at Moon Co knows I’m screwing the boss. I’m in limbo-I need to make a decision about this job and Blackthroat, but I keep putting it off because of this. The way I feel every time he demonstrates his interest in me.
I’m hungry for his attention, his affection, his constant approval. I don’t want to give up hearing him growl “good girl” or ordering me around in that bossy way of his and watching as I perform for him. I don’t want to end the game we play because it’s so damn satisfying.
I expect a dressing down about leaving the party, but instead, he modulates his temper for once. Even though I see frustration in the set of his mouth, his voice is a mild rumble. “I’ll take you home, Windows.”
“I can take a cab.”
“It’s snowing, I’m taking you home.”
I muster a retort. “Newsflash, Big Bad, outside of the office, you’re not the boss of me.” My words lack my usual snappy delivery, and he must see it because his often flinty gaze is soft on my face.
“Keep telling yourself that, Madison,” he murmurs.
* * *
Brick
Something’s off with Madison, and it kills me. Was she running from me? Or was it something Billy said to her? I will tear him apart if he hurts her. Literally. With my wolf fangs.
Or maybe this is about that bitch, Eleanor Harrington.
I know Madison has issues with money and social class that likely stem from the situation with her father. This probably poked all those wounds.
She ends up getting into my car without a fuss, but she’s miles away.
“Did Billy say something to you?” I ask as we drive.
Her gaze slides my way. “I’m not afraid of Billy.”
I reach out and cup the back of her head, massaging her scalp lightly there. “You’re not afraid of anyone, are you, Windows?”
She steals another glance at me, as if surprised by the praise.
“Tell me what he said.”
She shrugs. “He just said nothing good happens to secretaries who fuck the boss.”
I grind my teeth, trying to hold in the growl that rockets up my throat. He’s definitely going to feel my wrath. “He will apologize to you on Monday,” I grit.
“Don’t,” she says. “I’m a big girl. I can face the consequences of my actions.”
“Nobody speaks to you that way,” I snarl then catch the reflection of my gaze in the side mirror and realize my eyes are glowing yellow. I draw in a deep breath to calm myself.
“You’ll just make it worse. I don’t need you to defend me. I’m fine.”
“Talk to me, Madi. Why did you leave the party?”
“It’s just been…a day. You know?” Her voice catches, and she turns to me.
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “Yeah. I’m sorry. What can I do?”
“Nothing.”
I hate how immediate and final her response is. I hate everything about the way this night is going. Instead of dropping her off at her apartment, I drive around the block to find a place to park.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” she says when I miraculously nab a spot a half a block away.
“Invite me up.”
“To my apartment?” She lets out an incredulous laugh. “No.”
“Then come to my place.”
That seems to unnerve her, like sleeping in my bed is far too intimate an act. “Not happening.” She flicks open the handle and uses her elbow to push the door open.
I climb out of my side and walk around. “Invite me up.”
“I have a roommate-Aubrey, remember?”
“Do you share a bed?”
Another shocked laugh tumbles from her full lips. “Brick…”
I take her hand and walk her to the apartment. “The weather sucks. I don’t want to drive back to Central Park.”
“You want to spend the night in my apartment.” She says it with a note of disbelief, like the mere idea of me staying in Brooklyn is shocking.
Maybe it is. My friends would certainly think I’d lost my mind. This is going far beyond sex with my assistant. We’re entering uncharted territory.
But the idea of letting Madi go to sleep alone tonight doesn’t sit right with me. I sense the wobble in her world, and I need to hold her through it. Do whatever I can to get her back to her beautiful center. Besides, if she’s having a melt-down around money and social status, proving I can sleep in Brooklyn without a fuss might help erase whatever beliefs she might have about the rich being assholes who step on the backs of the poor to stay on top.
She stops in front of the door and searches my face as if trying to understand. “We already had sex twice today.”
I take her keys from her hand and open the door. “I’m spending the night, Madi,” I say firmly, rather than get into a discussion about whether I do or don’t want to feast between her legs and make her scream my name all night long.
Of course, I want that. But I can keep my dick put away if that’s not what she needs.
I see the flicker of vulnerability she shows when her armor cracks, and I know I’ve won.
“It smells like paint,” she warns me. “Aubrey is painting a mural in our living room.”
“Come on,” I coax, nudging her inside and following. “Take me upstairs.”
Madi
It’s all too much.
Not the sex-the sex is amazing. But the implications of Brick being in my apartment.
Aubrey wasn’t home when we got in last night, but as Brick brings me to my third orgasm this morning, I hear her moving around the kitchen, softly singing a song by The Cure as she makes breakfast.
Brick clamps a hand over my mouth as I cry out, muffling the sound of my pleasure as he rides to his own.
He was a perfect gentleman last night, helping me out of my dress and drawing me a bath because he decided I was cold.
By the time I got out, I’d warmed up in more than one way, especially after he laid me down on the bed and took his time kissing and licking every inch of my body before he brought me to orgasm. It was incredible.
He’s incredible.
That’s what has me uneasy. It’s the worst part of all of this. I never expected this giving side of Brick. I thought he’d continue to be an asshole, even as a lover, and I was okay with that. It was part of the allure, really. The boss-employee power dynamic turned me on. Like a milder version of master and submissive role play.
But Blackthroat as attentive? Warm, even? The guy who held me all night, lightly brushing circles over my skin every time I stirred?
That I don’t even know how to reconcile. Frankly, it terrifies me.
Right now he’s like an Adonis in my bed. Naked and gloriously muscled. His eyes reflect golden hues of the morning light as he reaches his peak and slams into me to finish. I wrap my legs around his waist and hook my feet behind him to take him even deeper.
He shudders with pleasure as he releases into me, his strokes turning slow and languid. His lids droop.
What is he even doing here?
In my apartment?
In my bed?
It’s a puzzle I can’t seem to solve, and I’m the type of person who won’t stop worrying a problem until I understand it. Give me an unfinished crossword, and I can’t walk away until every box is filled.
But no matter what it is that draws him to me, it won’t change the fact that I know he won’t stay. Which wouldn’t be a problem if it was only about the sex. But it’s not that neat and clean.
I could really fall for this guy. Fall hard.
And I know there’d be no cushion to land on when I fall. The billionaire Brick Blackthroat isn’t going to put a ring on my finger and walk me down the aisle-not that I think the institution of marriage is the end-all or anything. But regardless. This isn’t Cinderella. I don’t get the prince. It’s more like Pride and Prejudice, except there won’t be a happily-ever-after. Falling in love with Brick can only mean one thing: a broken heart.
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