“You’ll never hear those again. Trust me.” I glared at him. “Are you really this petty?”
“According to the everyone who works here… Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Are you trying to get me to leave?”
“If I wanted you to leave, I would’ve just asked you to ‘wait’. That’s what worked before, right?”
I sucked in a breath, ready to tell him off like he deserved, but he closed the gap between us and stamped his mouth over mine.
I wanted to push him away, but the taste of him was too much to handle. I hadn’t felt his mouth in years, and the feel of his lips against mine was too good to resist.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hastily kissed him back, leaving my emotions against his lips. Moaning each time he slid his tongue deeper into my mouth, each time he bit down hard on my bottom lip.
“Fuck…” He groaned as his cock hardened against my thigh, as he slid a hand under my dress.
I unhooked my right hand from his neck and slid it between us, reaching for his belt buckle, but I lost my focus.
“Did he ever touch you like this?” he whispered harshly, pushing my panties to the side. He didn’t wait for an answer. He slipped two fingers deep inside of me—making me cry out in instant pleasure.
With a slow and teasing rhythm that I knew all too well, all these years later, he thrust them in and out of me. Bringing me to the edge again and again, but never letting me fall over the cliff.
“Answer my question,” he whispered against my lips. “Did he ever touch you like this?”
“No.” I moaned. “No man ever did…Just you.”
He immediately stiffened.
He tore away from me, his expression a cross between confused and upset. Letting out a breath, he pushed my hair back into place.
He stared at me for what felt like forever, his green eyes rendering me speechless all over again like when we were younger. I saw hints of love and passion in his irises, hints of what we could’ve been.
From the look on his face, I expected him to say that maybe we could talk after this. Maybe we could say all the things we’d wanted to say over the years. Maybe even come to an understanding.
He didn’t.
“This was very fucking unprofessional, Miss Kennedy,” he said, his voice cold. “I’ll change your elevator code by the next hour.”
“James…” I felt exposed, raw. “James, can we—”
“No, Kate.” He’d read my mind. “No, we can’t.”
AT NOON, WHILE MY STAFF was preparing for our first official boardroom session, I walked to Pike Place Market and slipped into the Purple Café and Wine Bar.
Ordering a cup of water, I pressed a finger against my swollen lips—replaying James’s mouth against mine all over again. Hating the way he’d ended it.
“No, Kate…No, we can’t.”
All of a sudden, the doors to the café opened and the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen stepped inside the doorway. She walked over to the hostess stand, and then her eyes—the same color and hue as mine, lit up as she spotted me.
Oh, Sarah Kay…
She walked toward me, sporting a bright while trench coat over a perfectly fitted green dress. Her neck was adorned with a Harry Winston diamond choker that complemented the stunning silver hoops that hung from her ears.
She looked like royalty and wealth. She looked exactly like the woman my mother wanted me to be.
“Why the face, Kate?” She flashed her perfect smile as she sat across from me. “You look like this is the last place you want to be. That, or you really didn’t want to see me.”
“I always want to see you,” I picked up my cup. “I was just admiring the fact that you look like a true ‘Kensington woman’ today.”
“Ha!” I brought sweatpants and tank tops in my carry-on bag.”
A waiter set a fresh vase of water between us and prepared two hot cups of coffee.
I watched how she properly folded her napkin, how she set her cup and sipping spoon at perfect angles before drinking. I found it quite ironic that she’d remained in Edgewood, that she’d actually wanted to. She’d begged me to be her maid of honor when she was set to be married, to come to the wedding and show our family that I was still alive and thriving, but deep down, we both knew that it was too risky.
“Before we catch up, I need to give you something.” She pulled a white envelope from her bag and slid it across the table.
“No, that’s okay. I have a decent salary now.”
She ignored me and leaned over the table, stuffing the envelope into my purse anyway. Without looking at it, I already knew the words that were inked across the front.
“This never happened.”
I also knew there was a check for ten thousand dollars inside. The amount she gave me at least twice a year from her own inheritance. (Well, the small, dripping installments she received from her inheritance anyway)