Loveless (3 page)

five

Elijah

Forget teaching Paige a lesson. Lesson number one that I learned over the weekend? Never try to teach Paige a lesson if it means I’ll be in agony as well.

I became collateral to my own plan. Fucked myself over with that last kiss. I should have just kept my distance, told her goodnight, and headed on my way.

But no. I tortured myself with another taste of her tongue, the sexy way she moaned when I circled her tongue lazily with mine.

The way she moved on my dick, teasing me with a taste.

God help me, Paige Madson is a natural at sex. A lusty, instinctual,
hot
woman, with hunger that runs deep into her core.

And I’m going to be the first man to explore that. To experience it.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Man, all weekend I had to deal with my raging hard-on. I spent every free moment I had jerking it to the thought of her. And the moments I didn’t have free?

My best friend Sophie isn’t going to let me live it down. Ever. My cock stayed hard every second while we were rock-climbing. And when we were down at the gym the next day, kick-boxing?

She won every sparring round. Talk about an impediment.

Needless to say, the nosey pain in the ass is trying to get a name out of me.

As if that will ever happen.

My life would be infinitely more simple if I could just go out and fuck the need out of my system. Unfortunately, that goes against my code. I don’t do relationships.

But I also don’t fuck around with two women at the same time. Not after the way my history has played out. It’s one of the few rules I stick to.

And it’s much easier to stick to it when the women I sleep with are in and out of my life in the span of one night.

Which leaves me with a whole lot of self-loving going on, and even more ribbing from my best friend.

No wonder that, come Monday morning, I get into work forty-two minutes earlier than usual, lit up with the need to see Paige. I won’t wait a day longer, I decide. We’re going to start her “education” today.

Not that I have a plan, mind you, just the driving urge to get any part of my body on hers.

JouerTech’s headquarters—if one could call it that—is located on the second floor of an office building on Arch Street. The success of the JouerTech tab allowed Gilliane to rent out a much larger office location than our first one. Gilliane even had the whole floor renovated to her liking.

As a result, all the rooms sport at least one glass wall, leaving absolutely no privacy. Only the bathrooms and a few of the file rooms are closed off.

I spot Paige the moment I get near my office—hers is located right across from mine. Another torture. Day in and day out I’ve had to sit there, with an unfettered view of her office, fantasizing about getting her stuck-up little ass on my desk so I can lick her up and down.

Or on her knees so I can work my dick in between her lips, slowly at first, then hard how I need it.

I beeline it straight for her office, not surprised that she’s in this early. I bet she gets in bumble-fuck early every morning. Not that I’m not one-hundred percent dedicated to my job, but I caught on months ago that Paige is a little bit of a workaholic.

And by little bit, I mean that I suspect the girl has no life outside of work.

Dropping my briefcase on my desk, I about-face and gun it straight into her office. It’s still early enough that most of our coworkers aren’t in yet. The perfect opportunity to catch her alone.

She turns slightly in her chair as I get closer, reaching for her portable USB on her desk.

I freeze mid-step between my office and hers.

The normally proper, normally pant-suit wearing Ms. Madson is wearing a skirt.

Friday was the first time I ever saw her wear one, and I was nearly knocked on my ass at the sight of her in that cute pink dress. It had been girly and innocent in a totally sexy way.

There’s nothing innocent about what she’s wearing today. Sexy? Fuck me,
yes
. But that black skirt and the bit of lace I see beneath it are nowhere near the vicinity of innocent.

Paige shifts, then turns to face her screen again.

Too late.

Is that a garter string I saw attached to her thigh-high?

The reaction blasts through me, a pure wave of delicious agony, and I get so hard, so damn fast, that I’m dizzy from it.

Fixated, totally sexed, I practically storm into her office, my feet eating up the distance in less than five strides. The carpeted floor muffles my steps and she doesn’t hear me approach. Once inside her office, the smell of oranges assaults me—that same smell that always lingers on her. Stronger than ever. Orgasm-inducing.

God, I can’t wait to bust my load inside her, with the smell of oranges in my nose, the taste all up in my mouth.

I imagine mounting her, right on that desk, in plain view of all our coworkers, and it’s that image that drags me the rest of the way into her office.

The left side of her desk has a glass partition, almost like the kind a cubicle would have. I step behind it, bracing my arms along the top.

Paige raises a peeled orange slice to her lips and takes a bite. She catches sight of me and freezes, juicy lips wrapped around that orange slice, light blue eyes wide.

Her lips, already too damn tempting for my own good, are stained a deep cherry red today.

My erection throbs like a heartbeat, insistent. It takes all of my self-control not to grind into the partition in front of me, just to relieve the ache. “Good morning Paige,” I murmur, eyes locked on her lips.

I lick my lips, unable to stop myself, so far gone that there’s no way I can hide my reaction to her, nor ignore the fact that my cock is weeping for her.

Paige swallows the bite of orange and places the other half of the slice on a small plate next to her keyboard. There’s more slices in it, what seems like two oranges worth, all waiting to be put into that sexy mouth of hers.

Fucking lucky oranges.

“Elijah.” She seems so confused at the sight of me. So flustered.

Utterly adorable.

“Paige,” I mimic, smiling down at her.

Her throat jumps with her swallow, her eyes falling to my lips and staying there. She watches my smile widen with the intensity of a predator—an aroused woman that knows damn well what she’s going to do with my lips once she gets them to herself.

Soon
, I promise myself. Real fucking soon.

As a matter of fact, I’m taking her out for lunch.

“How was your weekend?” I fight the urge to reach down and adjust myself.

Her lids lower, but I see the anger flash in those half-closed eyes. The sexual frustration.

Oh yeah. I definitely wasn’t the only one suffering over the weekend.

“It was . . . eventful. My cousin convinced me to go shopping,” she responds at length, shifting awkwardly in her seat.

Intrigued by her response, I tilt my head, taking in more of her outfit. The black skirt she’s wearing rises all the way up to her ribcage, accentuating her tight waist. Her shiny, cream colored dress shirt brings out the color of her stained lips.

Tilting my head some more, I’m able to catch a glimpse of the black heels on her feet, as well as the red soles of said heels.

My lips fall open when I see the thick black line running up the back of her stockings. “I can see that,” I all but croak. Another shift from her, and the awkwardness I sense in her makes something tighten inside my ribcage. “You look so fucking hot all I can think about it getting my lips on you again.”

She gasps, eyes flying up to mine, her cheeks blooming with color at my compliment.

I haven’t eaten out a woman in over ten years. I don’t trust women I fuck enough to do that. Not after what I’ve experienced. It’s the same reason I never have sex without a condom.

But this woman . . . fuck. I want her spread out for me so I can lick up and down her sweet pussy, until her thighs shake on either side of my head.

The hunger settles low in my gut, insistent, and I realize that I’m going to have that with her. That I
need
it. Despite my trust issues, I won’t walk away from her without experiencing what it’s like to feel her come against my tongue.

Maybe it’s because she’s a virgin. Maybe that’s why my fantasy morphs, going even farther, and I see myself pulling my mouth away from her swollen, glistening core—only to replace it with my aching,
bare
dick so I can slide it into her, feel her
skin to skin
. . .

“Elijah?” She watches me, panting.

We both are.

I wrap the fingers of one hand around the top of the partition, holding on tight. “God, Paige. What are you doing for lunch? I need to be alone with you—”

“Eli. Paige. Good morning!”

I jump like the guilty fuck I am.

So does Paige.

Gilliane, our boss, stands at the entrance to Paige’s office, a huge smile on her cute, round face.

She reminds me of Mrs. Claus, and I don’t mean that in an unkind way. She might not be my type, but Gilliane is undoubtedly an attractive woman, and she rocks her size with absolute style.

Sophie met her once, and she commented that Gilliane reminds her of the singer Adele.

The resemblance really is startling.

Gilliane holds out a cup of coffee for both of us, reminding me that I fucked up and forgot to get coffee for Paige this morning. I’d just been in too much of a hurry to see her.

“I need you Eli,” Gilliane says, turning to head out of the office.

I sigh melodramatically. “What woman doesn’t?”

“Hah. Hah. Smart ass.” Gilliane continues down the hall, no doubt heading toward her own office.

Paige arches an eyebrow at me.

I smile and wink at her, reluctantly following Gilliane. Thankfully, her sudden appearance killed my erection on sight. So at least I don’t have to worry about that.

“I need to talk to you about Paige.”

Talk about almost giving a guy a heart attack.
That
is something I definitely need to worry about. “Excuse me?”

She waves a perfectly manicured hand at the door. “Close the door and sit down.”

I do so, but with no small amount of trepidation.

Shit. I’ve been caught. I barely started messing around with the girl, and I’ve already been caught.

Is Gilliane going to try to prohibit me from being Paige’s lover?

I sit up straight in my seat, my entire system rebelling at the thought. No way. I’ll be damned if I let anyone get in the way of what’s happening between me and Paige.

Jesus Christ, am I really going to jeopardize my job just to be able to have her?

Hell. Fucking. Yes.

The realization floors me.

“Relax,” Gilliane says. “You look like I’m about to ask you to date the girl.”

I nearly melt into my seat with relief. “You’re not . . . are you?”

She chuckles low, staring at something on her monitor. “Absolutely not. I like Paige. She’s a sweet girl. I wouldn’t want to sic a dog in heat like you on her.”

That easily, all of my tension returns, and I almost inform Gilliane that Paige sicced the “dog in heat” on herself.

Beautiful. First Paige comes at me with her whole “I wouldn’t want a relationship with someone like you” bullshit, now this. Not that it really bothers me, I remind myself. It’s just mildly annoying that they all think I’m incapable of being a good man simply because I
choose
not to.

“Actually, this does involve something of a date.”

I hear what sounds like a
pop
from within my brain as my tension shoots up to a whole other level. Groaning, I let my head fall back. “With all due respect, boss, get on with the point. You’re messing with my nerves here.”

“Commitmentphobia that bad, huh?”

I raise my head and glare at her.

“Fine. Calm down. Boston Tech invited me, on behalf of the company, to their annual fundraiser.”

“Okay . . . “

“It’s the same night as the 50-on-Fire event, and guess who’s been invited to that one, too?”

Holy shit. She has my full attention now. “Invited, or nominated?”

Her smile is all gloating. “Which do you think?”

I can’t deny how excited the news makes me. It’s obvious that JouerTech has grown exponentially since the launch of the first kid’s tablet, but this solidifies our trajectory to the top.

The ultimate goal for any company—in any industry—is to break into the Fortune 500. Something that’s incredibly hard to do for a startup tech company. So many new competitors burst onto the scene each year, and the ones at the top usually hold on strong.

Gilliane being invited to the Boston Tech fundraiser
and
being nominated at the 50-on-Fire brings us one step closer to that goal.