An Innocent Obsession

I force myself to soak up the experience. The unbelievable reality of Clarke pulling out a chair for me, brushing the hair back from my shoulders, pouring me a glass of wine. Oh, crap. Pouring me a glass of wine. I can’t bring herself to lie to this amazing man about one more thing. “Um, Mr. Carroway?”

“Clarke.”

“Clarke,” I murmur, trying not to visibly relish his name on my tongue. “I’m not old enough to drink that.”

He pauses in the middle of pouring and raises an eyebrow at me. “Really.”

“Afraid so.”

Flickering flames make the shadows dance around on his face. “How many years until you are old enough to drink alcohol?”

“A little less than two.”

“You’re nineteen.” Clarke sets down the bottle and massages his forehead. “Christ.”

A pang catches me in the throat. “I’m too young for you.”

“Yes.” His eyes capture mine. “And I should be worried that your age isn’t making a damn bit of difference in how bad I want you, shouldn’t I?” He leans back in his chair like an indolent king and my loins turn heavy at the reminder that Clarke has another side. How many times have I seen the proof in photographs? This is the man who is forever poised on the edge of a growl, ready to scatter reporters with a dark glance. This is the man who I fantasize about creeping into my bed at night, telling me to keep quiet and hiking up my nightgown. “Come over here and sit on my lap, angel.”

Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. “What if I…you know. Again.”

He pats his leg. “Do you think I wouldn’t love going back to the office with your cream all over my thigh?” Something dark flashes in his eyes. “I’d visit every floor of the building so the other men could smell it.”

Clarke Carroway is attracted to me. I still can’t quite believe it. He wants my body. Badly, it seems. Again, my conscience niggles at me. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into. He doesn’t know I’ve been infatuated with him since I was fourteen. My body won’t let me deny his needs or wants, however, so I rise from my chair and move to stand between his outstretched thighs. As my belly trembles, I watch him wrap the hem of my dress in his fists. “You fainted before I got to see how well we soaked your panties.”

I have to hold his shoulders for support or I’m going to drop. “Y-you can look now,” I whisper, forgetting where I am for a moment. “You can do anything you want with me.”

His eyes flash to mine, but he doesn’t seem turned off. Or weirded out. On the contrary. He seems like he’s barely keeping himself restrained as he lifts the hem of my dress—and his jaw flexes. “New rule, angel. My rule.” He shakes his head. “You’re old enough to soak your underpants until they’re dripping wet, so you’re allowed a glass of wine.” I can’t stop trembling as he drags the sodden panties down my legs and tucks them into his jacket pocket. “Come here.”

I turn and sit on Clark’s thigh and it’s so high off the ground that my feet dangle between his calves. “Do you always make your own rules?”

“Yes.” He brings a glass of wine to my lips. I take a long sip and he does the same, before he sets it back down on the table. “Good?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Nineteen.” He blows out a breath and exhales it against my neck. “Why are you working in the file room instead of going to school?”

“I’m still working on saving the money.” Thinking about how much progress I’ve made between my file room job and cleaning houses, I smile. “I’m really close. This time next year, I’ll be entering the business program at Baruch.”

“Business?”

I raise a teasing eyebrow at his tone. “That’s right. I drop a couple of files and all of a sudden I don’t look business-y to you?”

“Maybe not with wine staining your lips and your panties in my pocket.” We laugh and he cups the side of my face. “But yes, angel. Of course I can see that.” For a moment, I swear he can see right through me. “There’s something about you…that tells me you can do anything. Where did you come from, Emery?”

Again, I find it impossible to lie. Even a little bit. I just want to hold on to this impossible moment with Clarke as long as I can. Who knows when it will end? In five minutes? Five hours or days? It can’t go on indefinitely. He’s a powerful man. Probably the only reason he hasn’t ordered a background check on me is because he refuses to let me out of his sight long enough to make the phone call. “I’m from here and there,” I whisper. “My parents aren’t around anymore—not for a while. I live with my friend, Karen.”