Heart Strings

Except, right now, I couldn’t. I had to concentrate on my job. I shook my head to clear the fog of lust.

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?” he asked, a smile curling his lips, a repeat of the last time he’d asked me that question.

“As if you don’t know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lottie. I’m simply looking at you. I like looking at you.”

“You’re all smoldery.”

“Smoldery? As a teacher, I gotta tell you—there isn’t such a word.”

“There is. It’s my word. And you are. All smoldery and sexy, with that wicked look on your face.”

His smile became a smirk, and he bent lower, his breath washing over my face. “Wicked look?”

I decided to shock him. “The one that says ‘You’re gonna let me fuck your ass one day, baby.’”

His eyebrows shot up. “My face says that?”

I smacked his chest. “Sometimes it does.”

He placed his lips against my ear. “And will you let me, Lottie?”

“Maybe,” I breathed out.

“I’ll take that as another rain check.”

“Whatever.”

He kissed my neck, nibbling on the skin. “Trust me, Lottie. When I claim your ass, whatever isn’t the word you’re going to be screaming out.”

I felt a thrill run through me as he ran his hand over my ass, cupping it and squeezing.

“I do plan on having this spectacular ass one day.” He chuckled and slid his hands back to my waist. “But somewhere far more private and without an audience.”

“Good plan.”

He nudged my nose with his. “I have lots of good plans when it comes to you.”

The song stopped, and Logan pulled me over to the bar where we got another drink. Both of us ordered tonic water with lime, and I sipped the icy beverage in appreciation.

Carmen approached us, smiling.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” Logan assured him. “Great music.”

Carmen nodded. “Some of our artists. Our studios are downstairs, as well as our offices.”

“I bet the acoustics are awesome in this building.”

“They are.” Carmen studied him. “You look familiar, Logan. I thought so as soon as Lottie introduced us. Have we met before today?”

I couldn’t stop myself. “Logan plays at different clubs around town. Maybe you’ve seen him? He’s very talented,” I added.

Logan shot me an irritated look, but Carmen simply laughed. “Your lady is proud.”

I glanced over Carmen’s shoulder and froze. My father was standing by the wall, observing us, his arms folded over his chest, looking displeased.

I left them talking. “Excuse me,” I murmured, and I approached my father.

“Charles.” I frowned. “I didn’t expect you to see you tonight.”

“Given your display, obviously.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Do you make a habit of allowing a stranger to grope you on the dance floor on a regular basis, Charlotte, or are you simply trying to fit in with the crowd?”

I was shocked he would think I would use someone as a prop.

“He is not a stranger,” I spat. “And he wasn’t groping me—we were dancing.”

He stepped forward, his voice low and furious. “Is he the reason you’re distracted these days, Charlotte? That…that degenerate is the reason you’re falling down on the job?”

“He is not a degenerate. I am doing my job, Charles,” I shot back. “I’m handling everything you’re allowing me to. You chose to switch my projects. Not me.”

“Who is he to you?” he demanded. “Someone you’re using to get back at me?”

I stared at him in horror.

That was what he thought of me. He assumed I was dancing and spending time with Logan to get back at him. He wrote him off as not being good enough because he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie. I shook my head sadly.

“You don’t even know him, and you’re casting aspersions on his character. Why? Because he has long hair? A beard?”

“I don’t like the way he touched you.”

“At least he does touch me, Charles. He holds me and kisses me. Comforts me when I need it. When was the last time you did that?”

“You will stop seeing him.”

I crossed my arms. “No, I will not.” I held my head high. “He is a teacher. A sweet, caring man who looks after me. I will not give that up because you have some sort of preconceived idea in your head about him. That’s your problem, not mine.”

Our gazes clashed, his anger battling with my indignation.

“Take away every account, Charles. Fire me. But I’m not giving up Logan.”

He narrowed his eyes. “This conversation is not over.”

“It is. Otherwise, I will have to talk to HR about my boss overstepping into my personal life.”

He spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. Seconds later, Logan’s strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me tight to his chest.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured in my ear.

I settled back into him, his warmth welcome. “Done what?”

“Provoked him.”

I turned and met his eyes. “He was insulting you. Us. Making assumptions about you.”