Page 43 of Pas de Don't
“Oh God, worst possible choice of words.” She put her hand over her face. “I just mean, last night was exactly what we were trying to avoid. What we cannot be doing. And it can’t happen again. We need to just...pretend it never happened.”
He reached out and pried her fingers away from her face. She expected him to drop her hand, but he kept his fingers loosely tangled with hers and looked at her closely, the morning light making the golden flecks in his eyes shimmer and dance.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he said gently, a kind smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, “but that’s the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”
She squawked in surprise and then coughed to cover the unflattering sound. He released her hand and ran his fingers through his hair, then went on.
“We’ve tried ‘pretend it never happened,’ and it hasn’t worked. We didn’t even last a week. In fact, I think ‘pretend it never happened’ made things worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Her stomach did an inelegant little sauté, and she couldn’t conceal her smile this time. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” she said quietly, unable to meet his eyes. “But this has to stop. We have to stop. You know how this ends. We get caught, we both lose our jobs, and I ...”I go back to New York even more humiliated thanwhen I left.The woman who screwed her way into one job then screwed herself out of another. It was too awful to contemplate, let alone say out loud.
“Or it ends when you leave town,” he countered hopefully. “No one finds out, we keep our jobs, and we have a fun time together while we can. It wouldn’t be forever; it would just be for now.”
“Or, everyone finds out, and we’re both humiliated and unemployed, and for what? A fling?”
Marcus sat up a bit straighter, as though her words had stung, and she wished she’d spoken a little less vehemently.
“Listen, I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t want to do,” he said softly, sounding far less confident than he had a moment ago. “I know this situation is...complicated. I know what’s at stake. But I had a good time last night. I have a good time whenever I’m with you. And listen,” he glanced around as if hoping he’d find the right words somewhere in her bedroom, “life is short, and it can fall apart in a fraction of a second. I like spending time with you. And I think you like spending time with me. So it’s actually pretty simple.”
“Nothing about this is simple,” Heather retorted, though a part of her wanted to trust he was right. Another part of her didn’t care if it was messy and risky, thought it might even be fun and sexy to sneak around. Break the rules for once in her life, like Carly was always telling her to do. Cartwheels.
“I just don’t want—” she started, then stopped when he lifted her coffee from her hand and set both cups down on the bedside table.
Marcus sat on the edge of the bed and faced her, his thigh pressing lightly against hers. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. A gentle brush of his lips, but it sent heat and want rushing through her, and she could barely contain the whimper that formed in her throat. He pulled back far enough to meet her eyes as he spoke.
“You’ve told me all the things you don’t want, Heather. I want to know what youdowant.” She swallowed hard, her pulse suddenly racing. “Tell me whatyou”—he emphasized the word—“want.”
Heather was sure he could hear her heart throwing itself against her ribs, and her tangled thoughts tumbling over each other in her head. But he just watched her and waited.
And in the split second between leaning forward and claiming his soft, lush mouth with her own, she glimpsed a flash of something—delight, surprise, disbelief,something—in his green and gold eyes.
Relief and reckless desire shot through Marcus in equal measure. He kissed her back, slipping his tongue between her lips and meeting hers—gently at first, but when she twisted towards him and looped her arms around his neck, he grew bolder. One of his hands found her waist and flattened against her rib cage, holding her firmly, possessively. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to let it roam all over her, to explore every one of her gentle curves and her smooth expanses. Now. But before he could do that, she pulled away and scooted backwards, putting a foot of bed between them.
“Rules,” she said breathlessly. “We need rules.”
“I thought we’d just decided we’re breaking the rules.”
“Well, yes, but in order to get away with that, we’re going to need...other rules,” she said, her tone increasingly businesslike. “The first one’s obvious: we don’t tell anyone, at ANB or anywhere else.”
“First rule of fuck club is you don’t talk about fuck club,” he said, nodding, and she swatted his arm, grinning.
“Yes, but we’re not calling it that. Let’s see....I guess the second rule is no touching at work? No sneaking around or secret kissing in the lounge or anything. At work, we’re colleagues and that’s it.”
“Right, except if you happen to walk in on me half naked in the men’s room, and who would ever do something like that?” She swatted him again, but this time he grabbed her hand and pulled it up to his mouth.
“I’m serious,” she insisted, but she sighed and bit her bottom lip as he kissed the inside of her wrist hungrily.
“So am I,” he said against her skin. She smelled like lavender and sleep.
“The quicker we figure this out, the quicker we can get back to what we were doing,” she said matter-of-factly, and he dropped her arm and sat up straight, eyebrows raised expectantly. She laughed and shook her head, and the sound was like a mouthful of hot, strong coffee, warming his insides and making his heart beat just a little faster.
“What’s rule three?” he asked, folding his hands chastely in his lap. For all his jokes, he wanted her to trust the choice she’d made. And he was enjoying watching her plan this little rebellion.
“Rule three...I think...no photos.”
He frowned, surprised. “Like, naked photos? I wouldn’t want to do that anyway. Not that I judge people who do; I just think it’s too risky.”
“No, I mean no photos at all. I don’t take any of you, and you don’t take any of me. And obviously no photos of us together. That way, if someone looks at our phones there’s no evidence of anything inappropriate.”
