Page 29 of Trashy Foreplay

“Cross the line.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, he mumbles something that sounds like a curse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I bite my tongue, because I’m too close to telling him that I’m far from uncomfortable. If anything, I’m blazing from the inside out in the most delicious of ways. I eye him for a second as the numbers count down above the doors. Part of me wishes we can stay in here alone for hours.

“I saw your wife today.” Bringing her up is like claws on a chalkboard to my sanity, but considering the sexual tension between us, a dose of reality is much-needed.

“That would make one of us.”

“She seems very busy.” I’ve only spotted her a handful of times all week.

“She is. We barely see each other at all, at work or at home.” His steely gaze is pinning me to the wall. “But I see you.”

Line crossed.

My pounding heart doesn’t seem to give a shit. A ding announces our arrival on the atrium level, and I’m saved from having to reply. Ever the gentlemen, he allows me to go first.

“How are you getting home?” he asks as we weave a path to the front entrance.

“My friend is picking me up.” Lesley’s been giving me a ride all week, but hopefully that will change soon, since I’ve begun hunting for apartments in the downtown area.

He follows me through the sliding doors of Mont Center, and we come to a stop on the sidewalk out front. Lesley is idling in a no parking zone, texting while she waits.

“That’s my ride.” I point to the shiny red Bug.

“I guess I’ll see you on Monday then.”

“Yeah,” I say as he takes a step toward me, and I’m reminded of that moment in the airport when he kissed me on the cheek. But instead of reaching for me, he shoves his hands into his pockets and says goodbye with a simple nod.

Truth is, he doesn’t have to say a word. We want each other, and that’s not going to go away, no matter how much I kid myself it will. As I slide into the passenger seat of Lesley’s car, I mentally kick myself for accepting the job.

Wanting what I can’t have sucks, all right; it’s sucking away my resolve to do the right thing.

11. Chance Encounter - Jules

“I can’t believe you’re not going to be my roomie anymore.” Les flops onto the mattress in my new bedroom with a dramatic sigh. “You didn’t have to move out so soon, you know.” She’s over the moon about my new job, but the end of our slumber party is making her sad.

Truth be told, it’s making me a little sad too.

Hanging up a dress in my dinky closet, I shoot her a smile. “It’s much closer to work,” I point out. “Besides, I had to find my own place eventually.”

“I know. I just thoughteventuallywould be a while longer. God, I’m going to miss your face first thing in the morning.” She takes a look around my bedroom. “You know, this place is kinda small. Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?”

“Seriously, Les?” I laugh, raising an incredulous brow. “I’ve had my shit all over your room for the past few weeks. Why are you not celebrating getting your space back?”

Lesley sits up suddenly. “Hey, that’s a fantastic idea. We should go out tonight,” she says, her tone brightening. She switches gears as fast as she drives. “Let’s celebrate, ‘kay?”

“Tonight?”

“Jules, it’s Saturday, and we haven’t hit the club once since you’ve been here.”

That’s true. I’ve been too busy busting my ass at MontBlake, trying to stay busy in order to make a good impression, but also to minimize contact with Cash. It’s almost been two weeks since he hired me, and instead of the heat between us sizzling out, it’s only gotten hotter.

“So where are we going?”

“Club Shadow. Zan’s been trying to get the band a gig there.” She shrugs. “Maybe I’ll have better luck. I’ve seen pics of the owner. He’s a hottie for sure.”

“All right. Count me in.”

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