Taunt Me (Rough Love 2)

“Don’t worry,” he said to the men and women at the table. “She’s not here to replace anyone. I just thought I’d give back to my old alma mater by taking on an intern.”

“Norton has a great design program,” said one of the women, an older Latina with salt and pepper hair.

“Are you thinking about moving into architecture after graduation?” asked the guy beside her.

“No.” I allowed some vitriol in my voice. “In fact, I’m afraid there may have been an error in my placement.”

The staff members seemed troubled by this possibility. Price smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“Design and architecture are two sides of the same coin,” he said. “We’ll find ways to engage you. This will be a highly productive internship for you, Ms. Rouzier, if I get my way.”

*** *** ***

“This isn’t going to stand,” I said as soon as we were alone in his office. “I’m going to get my internship changed.”

“Are you?”

He moved to a side table and poured a glass of ice water from a frosted carafe. I stood in the middle of his elegantly furnished workspace with my briefcase clasped in front of me. I refused to be impressed with his world-famous architectural firm, and his breathtaking office with its massive iron-and-glass desk and drafting table.

“Sit,” he said over his shoulder.

“No,” I retorted. “I would rather stand. I’m not going to stay.”

When he brought me the water, I ignored him, staring out his picture window at Manhattan’s Lego-like cityscape. After a moment, he set the glass on his desk and leaned on the edge next to it. I turned and moved toward the door.

“Don’t leave,” he said.

“I’m not staying.”

“You’re not leaving either, not until we talk. You can stand if you like, but put down your briefcase.”

My fingers tightened on the handle. He was so good at giving orders. I hated him for it.

Still, I put down my briefcase.

“Is this your idea of a joke?” I said. “Because I don’t find it funny.”

“No joke. You’re required to complete an internship if you want to graduate.” He shrugged. “We can keep it professional, if you’d like.”

“I would like to keep it professional,” I said, shaking with anger at the situation. “Not that it’s very professional to force someone who hates you to continue interacting with you.”

He gazed at me, piercing blue eyes beneath blond lashes. “You hate me, Chere?”

Just like that, I knew he had my number. He saw through my false bravado to the needy confusion underneath.

“I don’t want this,” I insisted, but some part of me couldn’t stop looking at his hands, his broad shoulders, the way he filled out his suit.

“I think we’d enjoy working together,” he said. “And doing other things together.”

I backed away when he reached to touch my arm. “I’m not doing anything with you. You’re an asshole. I can’t believe you arranged this.” I scowled at him. “You’re playing with my life.”

“I’ve been playing with your life for a while now. Have I done you any harm?”

“Yes!” But when I tried to think of some instance of real harm, real danger or malice, I came up short. “You harm me by…by freaking me out. By trying to control me. You arranged this so I’d be forced to hang out with you.”

“Not just hang out with me. Fuck me, Chere.” He cast a glance around the office. “Imagine it: over the desk, over my drafting table, in the conference room, in hotel rooms when we travel.”

“Fuck you. I don’t want you. I don’t want this.”

He strode toward me, and caught me when I tried to evade him. “Don’t be a fucking liar. And don’t use bad fucking language in my office, you unprofessional piece of shit.” He jerked my face toward his and kissed me. I resisted for all of five seconds. His lips coaxed mine open, his passion mixing with my anger. My hands opened against his suit, texture and fabric and the muscles underneath. The scent of his cologne went right from my nose to my pussy. Everything clenched.

He ended the kiss and leaned back to gaze at me. “Now that we have that out of the way,” he said.

“Nothing’s out of the way.” I wiped my lips like I could wipe away my unwanted attraction to him. “I’m leaving now to return to Norton. I’m going to explain everything, and make them change my assignment. It’s completely inappropriate for us to…to do this, considering our past.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in bemusement. “Going to tell them everything, are you? All about our sessions?”

“No. I’m just going to tell them that we have a history, and that we don’t get along.”

“But we do get along.” His fingers stroked my waist, making small, caressing circles. “And they won’t let you change this internship, not when I requested it. They know we have a history, Chere. They’ve known it since you applied.”