Page 91 of Fighting Mr. Knight

“About you and me? No.” I lean forward. “I want to spend time with you, Bonnie.”

“Damn.” She groans. “Me too. I really want it.”

“It?”

“You.”

She looks up at me with such heat in her eyes my heart jerks in my chest.

Unnerved.That’s how she makes me feel. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

The forced proximity these last few weeks has allowed her to dominate my thoughts, which isn’t helpful when you’re in the process of erecting billion-pound buildings.

“I always thought I had more self-control,” she says to herself as much as me. “That sex isn’t worth the risk of all the office gossip. But Itotallyget it now. One-night stands with people you work with.”

“Some things are more important than what your co-workers think.” I shrug. “Learn to care less.”

She eyes me sceptically. “Spoken like a boss who doesn’t need to care about what anyone else thinks.” She downs the last of the liquid in her glass. The danger with Old-Fashioneds is that they’re so damn delicious you forget you’re pretty much drinking whiskey neat. “Are we doing this then?”

I feel the pulse in her wrist quicken. “Elaborate, sweetheart.”

“Fucking,” she blurts out in a loud whisper. She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I mean I don’t know if I’ve got the mentality for casual sex yet, but I’ll damn well try. I can’t even call it a rebound because it’s been so long. But I think I’m ready. No emotional attachment. No strings.”

I stare at her trying to keep up.

She breathes out heavily. “Just pure out-of-your-mind sex.”

“God forbid you get emotionally attached.”

“Nisha’s done it. Jenny from Accounts slept with Bradshaw’s son at the Christmas party. Why can’t I?” She waves her empty glass in the air. “Is it too much to ask for some…just some show-stopping,” she searches for words, “jaw-breaking dirtysex?Mind-blowingsex. Just vanilla though,” she adds quickly.

I blink. “Is that a serious question you expect me to answer?”

She emits a giggle. “I promise I won’t be weird,” she babbles on. “As long as it’s our secret. But why would you even tell anyone at Bradshaw? That’s ridiculous. Sorry, I’m overthinking it. We can do this, and I’ll be one hundred percent professional. I mean in work, not during the sex. I’m not a professional prostitute. But in work, professional. Yup. You don’t need to worry about that. No, sir!”

“Breathe, Bonnie.”

“Jack?” she asks when I don’t say anything else. “Sorry. It’s the free cocktails.” She giggles nervously. “Drought. Hottest guy I’ve ever met. It’s a bad combo. I’m a wee bit drunk and in unchartered territory. The last one-night stand I had was in uni with a guy who smoked weed in bed. One-night stands with billionaires probably have certain rules.”

Another giggle.

“Bet you don’t eat crisps or smoke weed in bed.”

“You’re right, Bonnie.” Irelease her hand. “You’re drunk. I’ll get a driver to take you home.”

“What?I’m not that drunk! I can walk in a straight line. I’ll show you.”

Her face scrunches in concentration as she takes a few heel-to-toe steps in front of me.

“No need.”

“You haven’t even let me do the turn test. The police wait until you do that before deciding the verdict.”

“Bonnie.” I sigh. “Come on, I’ll have a driver for you in five.”

The light in her eyes fades as she goes quiet for a moment.“This really isn’t happening?”

“No, not like this,” I say flatly.

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