Night Owl (The Complete Serial)

I’m convinced she enjoys being defiant every opportunity she gets and I enjoy thwarting her efforts. My fingers itch to tap her on the nose like a naughty kitten for taking such a dislike of my car. At least she’s wearing her black “fuck me” boots, over-the-knee leather that cinches under her knees. Tiny chains hug her ankles and I’ve a good fantasy going on in my head about tying those legs up by her boots. The boots almost make up for her hideous dress and bratty attitude tonight. I wonder what she’d do if I demanded she strip the damn thing off.

She continues to hold out fighting this insane attraction when I try anything to spend more time with her, “Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head and cups a hand over her mouth, yawning deeply and teasing the shit out of me. I’d love to slip something else between those pouty pink lips of hers. Neither of us sleep well at night. Me mostly because I fantasize about her, and her because she probably conjures up ways to eviscerate me with rejection three times a week.

“No, James. Just drive me home.” The voice that titillates the city of brotherly love sounds tired and my chest clenches. I should be tucking her in, not just dropping her off. “Don’t you have a date or something to go to?” Her lips twitch and I know what she wants to know. No, I’m not fucking anybody, just as she’s not fucking anybody. We should be kicking boots together, but she is so damn stubborn, she won’t let our mutual attraction do what it needs to do.

“The only standing date I have is driving you home, beautiful. Now relax and let me drive.” The rest of our ride is silent and I contemplate doing more than just dropping her off at her apartment building and walking her to her door…

3

Casey

My head rests against the glass window where I can see his reflection clear in the mirror. His angular face is shadowed by the day’s growth of stubble in moonlight and city traffic making him glow. James Austin is like my very own Batman. Weirdly comforting, domineering, and always there when I need him–yet I keep him at arm’s length for my sanity.

Ever since I had a caller threaten me on the radio when I rejected his advances, James has insisted on this ridiculous behavior of driving me home every night I work the late show. He doesn’t talk about it and never brings it up, but I know it bothers him. It should bother me but I live in denial. It was unsettling at the time it started happening. I thought I could handle it… until the creeper started to email the station and send inappropriate gifts several times a week. I don’t ask if the mailroom still gets stuff because I would never sleep at night. My medicine cabinet has a filled prescription, but the thought of taking drugs bothers me more. Now James has all of my incoming mail screened so I don’t have to see any of it. Do I consider that a perk of my job? No, not really.

The balls of my feet ache from walking dogs for the swanky folks who live on James’ side of town. I might have worn the boots just to screw with him, but I’m cursing myself for not bringing flat shoes with me for the barking bitches I had to deal with earlier. When James pulled up to the curb in his hot and sexy car, I can’t say I wasn’t totally fine with it. My poor little piggies will get a rest on the short ride home and I won’t have to fight some vagrant man, who reeks of too much booze, for a seat on the bus. We trade snarky comments and he smiles at me under the glow of the interior light of his car. I see his dark hair is rakishly brushed back, choppy lanks falling in just the right places. It’s unfair for a man to have such great hair. Thick brows define his face, and his eyes penetrate my chest, causing it to ache. I push it down. He’s my boss, but we’ve been at this game a long time, resisting each other.

I try with everything I have to hold the yawn back, but I can barely do that. He’s gone quiet and is focused on driving, weaving in and out of traffic, in a rhythm that soothes me. I burrow deeper into the leather seat of his car, lulled by the soft music he plays by an artist I’ve never heard of, and feel him turn up the heat. It’s seducing me into closing my heavy eyes, and the last thing I remember is the briefest touch of his fingers threading through my hair.

James slowly wakes me by stroking down my hair and gently rubbing his hand over my arm. He squeezes my shoulder, and I look at him. Those eyes are full of something I’m not sure I can handle emotionally, but I can’t seem to say no to.

“You fell asleep, beautiful.” The smell of him is all man inside this enclosed space and I swear it’s a drug, pulling at me to make bad decisions.

“Mmm.” There’s a lot I could say in response, but I’m unnerved, wondering how long he’s been looking at me. I limit my verbal response because, yes, this man entices very bad decisions.

James has an uncanny ability to know what I’m thinking. “I admit driving around the block a few times. I didn’t want to wake you once you nodded off. You seemed… peaceful.” Smiling, he trails his fingers over my face gently and, in my half-awake state, I turn my cheek into his warm calloused palm.

He continues the conversation one sided. “I would have driven longer if you would let me.” He wiggles a finger to stroke that sensitive spot and I sit up, wide awake, and push

him away.

“I should find that creepy, but I’m really too tired to think it through. You’ve been pushing my boundaries lately, James.” I cross my arms defensively. How dare he? Yet… I want to dare him to keep pushing me to play the tape through to the end.

“I want you and I believe you want the same thing, too. This game is getting old, Casey, but I can’t seem to stop playing with you.” James rests his hand against my face a second time, trailing it around to cup the back of my neck, drawing me in. Our eyes are looking and searching, and he’s pulling me closer.

“I shouldn’t want this,” I mutter, inches away from his lips. Our breath co-mingles and his mint stings my mouth and nose sharply, pleasantly.

“But you do.” James leans in further.

To deny the truth would be a lie so I go with the obvious.

“You’re my boss.”

“And?” His question lingers between us and I feel forced to fill the silence quickly.

“I’m not going to have dinner with you.” Shaking my head no does nothing to deter him.

He smiles.

“It’s a little late in the evening for dinner don’t you think?” Chuckling James renews his efforts and I’m helplessly struck down.

“But, you’re my boss.”

“You said that already, and that’s the most bullshit excuse you’ve given me since we met.” His lips touch mine, cutting off any retort I might have had. His tongue darts out for a sample, and my own tangles with it. I’m shocked, but don’t move away because he’s right. I do want this. I want this so fucking much, my thighs squeeze together. I wish I wasn’t wearing this dress that’s strangling the breath out of me, as much as James is sucking it from my lips.

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