Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

She was only half right, but he kept that to himself. "Well, aren't you?" he asked instead. "Uncomfortable, I mean."

"Of course." She squared her shoulders as she gathered courage, the posture and its meaning so achingly familiar even after all these years. "You said there was a thing between us, and you're right. Wednesday night in your arms was horrible and wonderful. And later that night--oh, my God, the dreams."

He couldn't fight back his smile. "Oh, really? Care to elaborate?"

She smirked, her expression suggesting that she was amazed they'd drifted into such dangerous conversational waters. To her credit, she didn't backpedal.

"I didn't expect to see you again," she continued. "And I won't deny the shock when I walked into that conference room. And I won't lie about how hard it is to stand here with you. To be this close to you and know that we aren't what we used to be. Is the desire still there? Hell, yes. And maybe it would be better if we hadn't shared that stupid kiss. It was like flipping a switch, and bringing something dormant roaring back to life."

"Kiki--"

"No. Let me finish. It wasn't closure, but it also wasn't a beginning. It just was." She flashed a self-deprecating grin. "This may come as a shock to you, but I've passed the thirty marker. I've got a house. I've got a car. I have a brokerage account and a cleaning lady who comes every two weeks. I even own a life insurance policy.

"In other words, I've been taking care of myself for a long time now, and I don't need you stepping in to unilaterally decide what's best and then yanking the things I want out from under me. I've been there with you, Noah. And we have most definitely done that. And I'm not going down that road quietly again."

She'd switched from the present to the past, and he knew it. But he wasn't willing to talk about their time in Los Angeles, or Darla, or any of it. Not yet.

The only thing on the table right now was this job. That, and the desire that sparked and crackled between them like a downed power line that they were both trying desperately to avoid.

"I didn't yank it away," he said. "I made a decision. That's my job."

"Your job is to decide on the basis of my work. Not because you're trying to soothe my poor little broken heart. In case you missed the key point on my resume, I'm a professional."

"You're right."

Her brows rose. "I am?"

He nodded. She'd worn him down, but maybe he always knew that she would. After all, he hadn't offered the job to anyone else yet, either.

It would be okay. They'd worked together before, hadn't they? They could do it again. So what if he wanted to touch her? What did it matter if he wanted to feel her against him again? To discover if the memory of her body pressed against his was as rich as he remembered, or if time had painted everything with a glossy sheen. So what if just looking at her still sent shocks of amazement through him, and a longing so deep he felt it in his core?

So what, right? Because God knew, Noah was an expert at not getting what he wanted. He'd survived this long. He'd go on surviving.

He nodded again. "I'll expect you at ten o'clock on Monday."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Welcome to the team."

She hesitated, then took his extended hand and shook it formally. And damned if that touch didn't send the entire rational and reasonable lecture he'd just given himself right into the goddamn shredder.

Fuck surviving, and fuck wondering. He wanted to know.

He wanted her.

Maybe he'd regret it. Maybe she'd slap his face. Hell, maybe she'd walk away from him and The Project and everything. But right then he knew in his gut that this was his best chance. Possibly his last chance. So when she started to pull her hand back, he tightened his grip and urged her closer.

"You said I shouldn't decide for you," he began. "I won't. I'm not."

Her brow furrowed. "What are you--"

"I'm leaving it to you. But I'm telling you flat out what I want. What I've fantasized about for years. I won't push. I won't demand. But just consider what I'm asking. Because I want this, and I think you want it, too."

She licked her lips, but she didn't pull her hand free. "You haven't asked me anything."

"No," he said, pulling her closer, desperate to claim her mouth with his own. "But I'm asking now."

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