She can be so dense.
I stop by her office. Given the awkwardness between us, I should’ve told her to sleep in. I’m pretty sure pregnant women need more rest than usual, and until her doctor looks her over and says she’s all right, I don’t want her to really do anything. Besides, I didn’t ask her to be my assistant to actually make her work. It was just an excuse to have her back where she belongs.
“Hey, you should be taking it easy. Don’t bother with…” My voice trails off when I see her face.
There are tear-trails down her cheeks, and her eyes and nose are red. She’s biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering, but I’m not sure if she’s aware that’s what she’s doing. Her gaze is focused on her laptop monitor, and her fists rest in her lap.
I stride over quickly. “Paige, are you all right?” I glance at the laptop and see a crude meme with a dead whale on a beach. It has Paige’s face on it. The asshole who made it also crossed out her eyes with two Xs. THE ONLY WAY SOME WHALES CAN DIET, says the caption.
All of a sudden there’s a blood-red haze around everything I see. “What the fuck is that?”
Paige shakes her head, lower lip still caught under her teeth.
I kill the browser, nearly breaking the mouse along the way. Paige shouldn’t look at such vile shit. I’ve had my share of disgusting lowlife haters and psychos, and I’ve made it a policy not to bother with social media myself for that reason. But Paige doesn’t know how to deal with this kind of nastiness. Fact is, nobody should ever have to learn how to deal with it.
“What did I do that was so wrong?” It’s just a whisper, her chin lowered. “Why do they think it’s okay to be so mean to me?”
I kneel before her and uncurl her hands so I can hold them in mine. They’re cold and clammy, but I don’t care. “It’s not you. It’s them. They’re the assholes.”
She lifts her face and looks me in the eyes. “But they all hate me.”
The devastation on her face twists my heart, and I hurt for her. “There are more assholes than you realize.” I wipe her tears with my thumbs. “Paige, trust me, it’s not you. Not at all.”
“The attack outside Samantha’s office…and now this…” Her head turns to the laptop.
I take her face in my hands and gently—but firmly—turn it back to me. “Paige, listen. This is not your fault. It is not about you. It’s their ugliness, their smallness. And you know what? Their loss. Because when I look at you, I see a beautiful, smart woman who takes my breath away. And when you aren’t with me, I feel like I’m missing something vital.”
I’m not saying any of it to make her go ahead with our ceremony as scheduled. I mean every word, and I would gladly step between her and any ravening crowd to keep her safe and happy.
“Ryder…” she says tremulously. Her hands wrap around my wrists as she leans closer and rests her forehead against mine.
Her hair falls forward, creating a curtain around my face, and the universe tightens and contracts until there is only Paige. I kiss away her tears because that’s all I can offer right now in the way of comfort. I want her to know she’s not alone.
She angles her head, and her lips find mine. Everything inside me stills as I rein in an instinctive urge to deepen the connection. This is about Paige and her needs. I want her fearless and bold again. Like in the screening room before things unraveled.
She runs her tongue over the seam of my mouth, then uses her lips to relearn its shape and texture.
I adore her lips, the fullness of them, their soft fleshiness. My blood boils with a heat that has nothing to do with anger. It’s all due to Paige, who is exploring my mouth to her heart’s content.
Oh, the hell with it. I part my lips, and she flicks her tongue inside, letting me have a small taste. She’s so damn sweet, like spun-sugar happiness and light all rolled into some kind of fabulous girl-dessert, and I crave more. I drive my tongue into her to take it.
A throaty moan vibrates through her. She slides off her office chair so we can be at a better angle. Her lush breasts press against my chest, and my cock swells.
She lets go of my wrists and rests her hands, no longer cold and clammy, on my cheeks. The contact seems to sear my skin, and I want her hands everywhere on me, exploring, stroking, fondling and loving.
Just as I want to—
“Uh… Ahem, guys.”
I jerk back and curse under my breath. The meeting with Mira.
Paige’s face is suddenly bright red, but at least she no longer has that hurt and angry look. Her lips swollen and her eyes dilated, she looks like a woman who’s been thoroughly kissed.
“Don’t suppose you’ve had time for coffee yet,” Mira says, barely containing a schoolgirl smirk.
“Ah, not yet.” I stand and help Paige up. She takes her seat again.
“Well, why don’t you get some? You know, take that edge off. So we can actually have a productive discussion?”
Paige is on her feet immediately. “I’ll get it for y—”
“You sit back down,” I say. Her eyes and nose are still red—well, more like pink now—and I don’t want the kitchen staff to see her like this. Besides, I don’t know if it’s good for her to be on her feet too much anyway. “I’ll get it.”
She sits, and I push her chair at the desk. “And relax. That’s an order.”
* * *
Paige
Ryder goes for the coffee, leaving Mira and me alone in the room. “Nice to have you back,” she says.
Her dark hair, cut Cleopatra style, is exceptionally glossy under the light, and she’s wearing a black dress with a patent leather belt cinched tight around her waist. Her stilettos look long and sharp enough to kill a crocodile, with golden edging at the tips of the heels. The red lipstick is stark against her milky skin.
“Thanks,” I say. It seems kind of inadequate after the display she just saw. But she and I aren’t close enough to chit-chat about that kind of personal stuff.
“So I take it the wedding’s on?”
“If he can give me the answer I asked for, yes.”
Her dark brows pinch together into a sharp V. She takes a seat in front of my desk. “What answer?”
“It’s…kind of personal.”
“Okay. But this ‘answer’ determines whether or not you’re going to show up for your wedding?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
She gives me a very, very penetrating look. “Is this some kind of test?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why the hell were you kissing him like you want him for brunch? You playing a game?”
“Not a game. Something very important to me.”
She levels an absolutely flat stare at me. “More important than your precious friend Renni?”
“What?”
“Let me spell it out for you. Not marrying Ryder would involve consequences for her.”
My chest tightens. “Are you threatening to fire her?”
“Oh, sure. I could do that, but so what? She wouldn’t be any worse off than before I took her on.”