“I told you before. I don’t hate you,” he said disdainfully. “I hate being attracted to you.”
And just like that those sex hormones turned into white-hot rage.
“You tracked me down to my third job to tell me you hate being attracted to me?” I said the words slowly, making sure I was reiterating his point with just the right amount of “you son of a bitch” in my tone.
“What I mean to say is nothing is going to happen between us.”
“You’re damn right nothing is going to happen, you cocky, imbecilic ass. You think I’m so desperate that I’d say yes to a quick hate-fuck? That my self-respect is so low I’d throw myself at someone who doesn’t deserve me?” I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to smash my burger in his face or stab him in the hand with a fork.
“Ally, you’re getting it wrong,” he said dryly.
“I’m getting it wrong, or you’re saying it wrong?”
He looked uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.
“I just want to make it clear that I’m not going to get involved with you.”
The arrogance of this guy was almost laughable. I’d definitely go with the fork, I decided.
“First of all, boss. I decide who I get involved with. Not you. And right now, I’d rather sleep with literally any human in this bar than you. Dead last. That’s where you rank. Just because I found you physically attractive doesn’t mean I’d want to sleep with you.” I emphasized the past tense to drive my point home, ignoring the fact that that’s exactly what it had meant up until forty-five seconds ago when he opened his big, stupid mouth.
“Eat your dinner, Ally,” he said.
The look I shot him should have made his balls shrivel into raisins.
“Look,” I said. “You don’t get to be an asshole to my face when I’m on someone else’s clock. You can do it forty-odd hours a week at the office but not here.” I started to push my chair back, but he closed a hand over my wrist.
His grip felt like a shackle. A warm, hard, unbreakable shackle. And I hated the fact that I liked it.
I stared down at the fingers ensnaring my wrist and felt like I’d entered another dimension where casual physical touch from a man who’d just insulted me on the basest level could render me speechless.
“Ally,” he said again. His voice was a rasp.
It was humiliating to know that the man could insult me to my face and my body would still want to see his naked. Had I lost my self-respect along with my life savings?
“This is coming out wrong,” he said.
“I’m not sure there’s a right way to tell someone that you’re attracted to them but the actual thought of sex with them makes you nauseated,” I shot back. “Are you the reincarnation of Mr. Darcy?”
His fingers squeezed harder.
“What I am fucking up over and over again is this: I want you to know that despite the fact that I find you interesting, intelligent, infuriating, and very, very attractive, I’m not going to pursue any kind of relationship with you. I want you to feel safe at work. I don’t want you to think that I’m going to drag you into a copy room and fuck you against office equipment. I don’t want coworkers whispering behind your back because you had the misfortune to catch my eye. I don’t want your reputation torn to shreds just because I wonder what you look like naked. And, yes, I do think about that. And, no, I shouldn’t be telling you that.”
He said all this without lessening the pressure of his fingers. As if the physical touch and the words melded into one message. Desire.
Fuck me against office equipment? I’d put that in the “Obsess About This Later” folder.
We were both quiet for a long beat. Him still gripping my wrist. Me still staring at him as if he’d just announced he had four testicles and dreamed of someday raising miniature donkeys.
“I wanted to clear the air,” he said, pressing on. “If Harry was picking up on something between us, then others will also. That’s not the kind of environment Label is. Not anymore.”
My brain was still wading through his speech. There was something real, something vulnerable in there, and I needed several uninterrupted days to process it all.
“Say something,” he demanded gruffly.
“Well, the first thing that comes to mind is: I look great naked,” I told him. The man put his head down on the table, and I almost laughed.
“Dammit. I knew it,” he said mournfully.
“Did Dominic Russo just crack a joke?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Being around you feels like a never-ending boxing match, and I keep getting hit in the nuts.”
I did laugh then. “You are really, really bad at this, by the way.”
“Forgive me,” he said dryly as he lifted his head. “I’ve never had this conversation before.”
I flipped my hand over and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “I think you’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”
“If anyone is overcomplicating things, it’s you,” he said, his tone grumpy.
“Stop being a baby. Just because we’re attracted to each other doesn’t mean we have to act on it. We’re adults, not oversexed teens with no comprehension of consequences. I’m not your type. You’re not my type—though in other circumstances, I’d be happy to broaden my horizons.”
He growled at that. I grinned.
“But neither one of us wants to rock the boat at work. I like my job. And I don’t fuck men who don’t like me. I’m not going to lock your office door and show you that I’m not wearing underwear.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, swiping his free hand over his face.
He looked tortured. I liked it.
“Never in the history of my adult life have I been so overcome with lust that I couldn’t control myself. And I’m willing to bet the same is true for you,” I guessed.
“Don’t overestimate my control or underestimate your appeal, Ally.”
And just like that, I was back in Put Your Dick in Me Town. “Geez, Dom.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “I’m not putting any responsibility on you. But I am infatuated with you, and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about… things that I’m not going to repeat.”
I really, really, really wanted to know what kinds of things.
I took a breath and let it out slowly. “We want the same thing.”
His eyes narrowed, and I was overcome by a fantasy of him ripping open my cowgirl shirt and shoving my skirt up to my waist.
For one long second, I had the distinct feeling he was thinking the same thing. The temperature of the air between us rose to a smolder.
“What I mean to say,” I said, clearing my throat, “is that neither one of us is up for a workplace affair. So we won’t have one. It’s as simple as that.”
“What if I keep wearing vests?”
I leaned in and I noticed his gaze dipped to the first closed snap on my shirt. “Then I’ll just learn to control myself. Also, if you don’t stop wearing vests, I’ll stop wearing underwear to work.”
He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.
“Shut up and eat your dinner,” he said gruffly, pulling his hand away.