So he typed nonsense into his spreadsheet, completely fucking up his equations, as the creak of her footsteps sounded down the hall. Ignore. Ignore. Ig—
A knock came at his office door.
Well, shit.
“Jacob?” she called softly. “The light’s on.”
She’d hated it. She’d hated the entire night and was horrified by his presumption. She’d felt corralled into an evening of socializing, like a child, which was frankly Jacob’s worst nightmare, so—
“Can I come in?”
To hit him with a brick, probably. Ah, well. Better face the consequences of his actions like a man. “Yes,” he said, his voice rough with—tiredness. Probably.
The door opened, and Eve didn’t look like she was going to hit him with a brick. For one thing, she didn’t even have a brick. Just a pair of white Converse with neon, rainbow laces, hanging from one hand—Converse that had presumably been on her feet, once, because now her feet were bare. And she probably didn’t intend to hit him with the shoes, because she was smiling. She was smiling so big that her cheeks plumped and her eyes crinkled at the corners and his heart began to thump a frantic dance beat against his ribs.
“Hi,” she said, leaning against the doorway. God, he wished she hadn’t done that. She was wearing this tiny white dress, a silky, strapless thing with random flecks of color, that clung to every last one of her curves. And there were many. Her hips strained the fabric, pulling it so tight she might as well be fucking naked. She leaned forward slightly, her movements lazy and loose, and her cleavage basically spilled over the neckline. That dress was precarious, to say the least. It was clearly his duty, as the nearest authority figure, to watch her breasts as closely as possible. The minute they bounced free, he would spring into action and . . . put them back in? No, that didn’t seem right.
“I know what you did,” she murmured, and he immediately thought back to this morning—to the way he’d fucked his hand underneath the spray of the shower while she sang “Good Morning Baltimore,” of all things, on the other side of the wall.
But obviously, she wasn’t talking about that.
“Jacob Wayne,” she said as she finally stepped into the room, “you are the sweetest man alive.”
He flinched. “No.”
She sprawled in the chair opposite his desk. “Yes.” She raised her legs and put her feet on said desk. Her toes were painted glittery pink. Her lip gloss was glittery pink, too. Bright and brilliant and obnoxious as fuck. He wanted to see it all over his dick.
“Did you organize tonight because you were sick of me and wanted me out of your hair?”
“No,” he repeated, louder and faster than before.
Eve flashed him a smug smile. “Thought not.”
Shit. It was slowly dawning on Jacob that Eve knew him well enough to possibly guess at his motives for tonight. His motives being that he was pathetically in love with her and he would refracture his own wrist, or in this case, ask Theresa and Alexandra Montrose for a favor, to make her happy. “I just wanted you to make some more friends so you could stop talking my ear off.”
“You love when I talk your ear off.”
“You’re a very social being. I was worried you might die in captivity.”
“Now, that, I believe,” she said, and he experienced a moment of relief before she went on. “You were looking after me, weren’t you? You do that rather a lot.”
Shit, shit, shit. “No,” he said flatly. “You don’t need looking after. You’re a grown woman.”
“You do that a lot, too.” Her glossy lips tipped up into a smile. “The whole ‘respecting me’ bit.”
“It’s not a . . . bit.”
“I know. That’s what makes it a panty-dropper.” And then she spread her legs.
Dear fucking Christ.
He saw it all happen in slow motion. Her feet on his desk, slowly parting. His direct view up the length of her legs, and the way those lush thighs separated until he could see straight up her fucking skirt. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. Her pussy was bare and beautifully exposed, as pouting and glossy as her wicked mouth, and at the sight his cock became a fucking crowbar.
He wrapped his good hand around the arm of his desk chair, felt the leather creak and stretch under his white-knuckled grip. “Eve.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Yes, Jacob?”
“You’re drunk.”
“I most certainly am not,” she replied with a sweet smile. “You see, I have been trying really super hard not to jump your bones for a while now, and I have been succeeding. Barely. Even though you’re so sweet and so—” She made this tiny little growl that shot right through him, that brought heat to his throat and yet more blood to his thick cock, and Jacob thought he might die. “You’re so you,” she said. “You’re so firm and funny and ridiculous and precise. You are so fucking you, and I love it.”
His heart almost jumped out of his throat. If he hadn’t slammed his mouth shut, it might have flown out and landed in her lap.
“I’ve been trying,” she repeated. “But tonight, as soon as I realized that you’d taken it upon yourself to organize friends and fun for me, it became clear that I couldn’t hold out anymore. I don’t just want to fuck you, Jacob. I want—I want you to be mine.” She stumbled over the words, but she didn’t stop. She kept going, fast and determined and perfect, so fucking perfect. “I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol all night, and you may call Montrose if you don’t believe me. I drank nothing but lemonade because I knew I was coming right back here to sit on your dick. So. What do you think about that?”
He thought he was on fucking fire, that’s what. He thought he’d been hit by lightning, and the electricity was destroying him even as it lit him up, and he would beg for it again and again if given half the chance. He thought the idea of Eve, out all night with him on her mind, making choices with the intention of ending up here, might actually rip him in two. That’s what he thought.
But what he said, through the steel vise of his jaw, was, “You told me you didn’t want to do this.”
“I changed my mind. It’s a lady’s prerogative. I was hoping you might change yours, too, but that’s up to you.”
“You don’t think—I’m—” God, Jacob, don’t ask this question. But he had no bloody control when it came to her. “You don’t think I’m bad for your, er, personal growth, and so on?”
She licked her lips, shifted slightly, and his gaze was dragged back to the treasure between her thighs before he pulled himself away. Eyes up. If he was going to make good choices here, the kind of choices that didn’t ruin everything, he had to concentrate.
Unfortunately, Eve chose that moment to say, “I don’t think you could be bad for me if you tried.”
It was quite difficult, after that, not to throw common sense out the window and lunge at her over the table. Thankfully, Jacob had a lifetime of control to fall back on during this, his hour of greatest need. “Let me make it clear that I don’t—” He swallowed for a moment before pushing past his discomfort, laying the raw truth between them. “I don’t just want to sleep with you. I want everything. I need this to be real. So we can’t start something if it’s going to end with you getting bored and disappearing on me.” Don’t. Please don’t ever disappear.