The Banker (Banker 1)
His lips were dangerously close to mine, and I didn’t let them get any closer. “You teased me first.” He was the one who gave me the greatest kiss of my life before he threw me into bed with another woman. He’d moved his hand up my thigh under my dress and made me think I was the only one on his mind.
His eyes shifted back and forth slightly as they looked into mine. When he was this close, I could really smell his cologne, really feel his presence. There was a distinct warmth to him, like he was the sun in his own solar system. His fingers gradually dug into my skin harder as he kept his grip on me. “You’re an enigma.”
“Me?” I asked, our faces still close together. “I’m pretty easy to read—because I say what I want. You just don’t like it because what I want isn’t what you want.”
“And what do I want?” His hand left my elbow and snaked up my back. His large palm pressed hard against my body, his fingers burning through the thin fabric of my black dress. He moved farther up until he reached the back of my hair. He gripped the strands like reins, securing me in place so I wouldn’t go anywhere.
Now I wasn’t thinking about my plan anymore. I wasn’t thinking about anything anymore. “Me.”
He controlled my neck and moved my face until my lips were upturned to his. He had ideal access to my mouth, for a perfect kiss that would rival the last one we shared. His arms were comfortable around my body, and his hands actually felt like a safe haven.
It would be easy to succumb to my hormones, especially when this man would give me the best sex of my life, but I had to focus on the prize. A good lay wouldn’t be enough. He’d stop thinking about me the second we were finished. I had to keep him at bay, to make sure his interest didn’t burn out too quickly.
I finally found my footing and pulled away, stopping the moment before his lips could press against mine. I turned away and cleared my throat, breaking eye contact with him. “Since I’m working for you, this should stay professional.”
He didn’t reach for me again, but his eyes shone like two hostile beacons. “You want me.”
“No, I wanted you. That moment has come and gone.” I turned back to him, doing my best to seem sincere. “When I kissed you in that bar, I wanted to go home with you. I wanted an amazing night of sex to get me through a few weeks until I found my next fix. But you’re into some things I’m not into, so that was the end of the story. Now I work for you—and it should stay professional.”
“I just killed someone in my driveway. Not exactly professional.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, afraid that might be me in the future. “All the more reason we should forget about this.”
“I don’t think either one of us can forget something we can’t stop thinking about.”
It would be pointless to pretend I didn’t want him, so I stopped saying otherwise. Instead, I picked up the painting and stepped away from him so he couldn’t reach me again. “I need to get back to work. I have to return to Florence for my date tonight.”
He tensed on the spot, the muscles of his frame tightening slightly before thickening. There wasn’t a possibility that this man could get jealous, but there was definitely a flare of his nostrils. He was used to getting what he wanted, and the second he didn’t, he lost his mind. “You have a date?”
“Yes.” I grabbed my level and a couple of nails. “Have a good evening, Cato.”
He ignored everything I said. “You’re going to waste your time with some random guy instead of me?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure this guy doesn’t kill people. And I don’t think he’s going to throw me into a threeway either.” I headed to the door before Cato could say anything else. “You don’t know me very well, but I’m not the kind of girl who’s expecting anything out of a man. I’m at a point in my life when I’m just looking to get laid and focus on my career. I’m not in the market for anything complicated, but you made it complicated the second this turned into a sick power play. You have your rules, and that’s fine—but I also have mine.”
11
Cato
I sat in my study on the top floor and puffed on my cigar. I wasn’t a big smoker, but every once in a while, I allowed myself the luxury. It gave my throat a break from the burn of the booze I downed all the time.
I stared out the window and kept thinking about the same woman I always thought about.