Tell Me You Want Me
The heat from the elevator is back, and all of it is on my face. “I thought we were just—”
“I want more than sex, Suzette. Although I enjoy that immensely.”
“What exactly do you want, Mr. Bradford?”
“To get to know you,” he says simply.
It throws me off. What we were doing in his office and the elevator is so forbidden that I’d assumed we would have strong boundaries and never cross them. Getting to know each other is definitely crossing them. “Well … the first thing I typically tell someone is I’m divorced and I hate the male species.”
The lift of his brow is telling: I wasn’t acting like I hated him in the elevator. “Surely there is more to you than your dating status.”
I hesitate. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“Having dinner after sex is serious?”
“Hanging on your arm as a date to an after-hours event? Being seen together … that’s not discreet.”
“I assure you, my evenings are discreet. Nearly everyone I speak to has signed an NDA with me at some point or another and it’s all business.”
“If you think you need to woo me or somehow …” I can’t finish. I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking.
“Or what?”
I decide to be blunt. “I don’t mind just being a fuck toy,” I admit to him, my voice low. “In fact, I enjoy it.”
He groans as if I said it just to torture him. “Your fucking mouth, Suzette.”
He must know how hot he is when he does that. When he speaks to me like that. It’s not fair in the least. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from grinning. A genuine smile, different from the one I use in meetings or when I pass people in the hall at work.
He straightens and runs a hand over his mouth. “I’ll make this very simple for you. I’m attracted to you. I’d like you to come with me tonight. Now say yes.”
I try to read his expression. Unsettled and hot, I search for the meaning behind his words and the meaning behind his intentions. More importantly, what they’ll do to me.
“Don’t make me beg, Suzette,” he states as if he really would. “Come. Say yes.”
I answer without thinking, “Yes.”
Adrian
Suzette’s phone rings the moment she gets into the car and she chooses not to answer it, texting instead.
With a cocked brow, I glance at her phone and she shakes her head, her expression not hiding the humor. She holds up her phone and says, “My friend Maddie.”
The texts read as follows:
* * *
Sorry, can’t take the call, everything okay?
* * *
Fine. Any word on what Lucifer is planning to do?
* * *
Nothing yet.
* * *
Well come over and drink with me, we’ll do a binge watch of Grey’s or something.
* * *
I have to work.
* * *
Booooo. Well don’t let Lucifer get you down.
* * *
“Lucifer?” I question, feeling the corners of my lips pull into a knowing smirk.
She clears her throat, crossing her legs in an attempt to look dignified. “When I heard Holt sold the company to some asshole with a reputation … We nicknamed him Lucifer.”
My smile grows. “Hmm, sounds like a prick.”
She has the decency to appear nervous under my gaze.
“Why is she asking about the company?”
“I outsource to her at times. And I’ve been … nervous and venting to her.”
“You overthink things.”
“I think them through as much as I need to, thank you for your concern, though,” she responds with every ounce of defiance I covet.
“Your smart mouth reminds me of something.” My cock hardens as I pull out my phone and read her messages aloud.
“I’d like the wall first, fucking me midday so everyone could hear what you do to me.” My tone is even as I read but when I pause, I make my desire obvious, readjusting in my seat. With a devilish grin I peek over at Suzette, finding her cheeks to be a scarlet red. A gruff chuckle escapes me as her lips part and her eyes widen.
“Adrian.” The admonishment is hushed and it’s only when her gaze darts to the front of the car that I understand why.
“Noah, would you put the divider up please,” I call up to him and within seconds the dark partition is in place, granting us more privacy.
“You’re blushing as badly as I am,” she teases, joy clearly peppered in the statement. I can feel the heat in my cheeks.
“I’m sure he didn’t hear anything,” I tell her, although … I have no fucking clue. “He’s signed a nondisclosure agreement,” I add for good measure.
Before she can distract from the conversation anymore, I read the second text. “At night, I’d love for you to fuck me against the window, so I could feel the city beneath us and know every single one of them would trade places with us in a heartbeat.” My words are spoken lowly, carefully but not in a whisper.