The Messenger (Professionals 3) - Page 73

I didn’t know that.

I couldn’t imagine that.

Kai wasn’t a big drinker as a whole. I had never seen him so much as tipsy.

“Stop being such a pussy… and march on in there and show him yours,” she suggested on her way out, beaming at me from the other side of the door as she reset the lock.

Could she be right?

It made sense.

Kai was that kind of person.

Selfless to the point of complete and utter self-denial.

I could definitely see him doing that, giving me space even if it hurt him. And if he was hurting, it made sense why he avoided seeing me too much.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse, going into the bathroom to refresh my makeup, spritz on a little perfume, work some of the tension out of my muscles, then dropped off my purse, squared my shoulders, and made my way down that hall.

My pulse throbbed in my ears, a whooshing sound that even managed to block out the click of my heels on the hard floor.

My skin was flushed, overheated, my body flooded with nervous energy, anticipation, and a healthy dose of fear.

I took a second outside his door, schooling my breath to something that didn’t make it seem like I had just run a half-marathon instead of just walking the fifteen feet from my desk to his office.

When I was relatively sure I wouldn’t absolutely pass out from panic, I raised my hand to knock, thinking better of it at the last possible second, then reaching to throw open the door.

Kai’s head shot up from where he was leaning off the front of his desk, a stress ball in his hand.

Seeing me, his brows creased, but there was no denying what I saw in his eyes.

Miller had been right.

He was just trying to be the good guy.

Because those were moon-eyes if I ever saw them.

“Jules, is everyth…”

I briskly moved across the floor, grabbing him by the front of his tee, my fingers balling in the material as I pulled him closer just as my lips claimed his.

Claimed.

That was right.

Mine.

He was mine.

I guess he had always been. I had just been too blind to see it.

And for the first time, I was his.

Completely.

“Jules…” he tried, breaking away, trying to be rational, tell me I was hurting, or rebounding, or whatever he was going to come up with.

“Shut up,” I demanded, taking his lips again, pressing harder, demanding more.

When my tongue moved to trace the seam of his lips, any thought of being the good guy seemed to disappear as his hands lifted, framing my face, parting his lips, and mating his tongue with mine.

The tremble that moved through me was almost violent, something I knew he felt as well as one of his hands left my face, tracking down my spine, landing on my ass, squeezing hard for a second before using it to drag me closer, until there was no such thing as space between us, until I could feel his hardness pressing against my belly, something that made a low moan escape me.

My restless hands moved over his body, up the sides of his stomach, feeling little etches of muscles beneath, a hint of rib cage, then over to his arms, moving upward, finding his biceps tense, corded in his desire, something that made mine burn all the hotter as my fingers slid under his arms, moving down his back, getting close to their destination before Kai suddenly pulled away in an action that felt all-too familiar.

I knew what would follow next.

The rejection he tried to soften with excuses. Excuses I didn’t want to hear. Excuses that were not relevant anymore.

I reached up, pressing my fingers against his lips for a second before dropping them, moving back a few feet, summoning every bit of self-confidence I had ever possessed in my life, and reaching to slowly start to lift my shirt, exposing my belly inch by inch before discarding it to the floor at my side, standing there in my slacks and a simple strapless nude bra.

Taking a deep breath that made his eyes lower from my face, I reached behind my back, unfastening the clasps before I could lose my courage, and pulling the bra free to fall with my shirt on the floor.

The cold air made my nipples twist tight, making my already desire-heavy breasts feel all the more sensitive to the way the air was washing over them from the fan overhead.

My hands went to my slacks, seeing his eyes almost begrudgingly follow, like he hadn’t gotten enough of an eye-full of what I had shown him already.

I unfastened them, pushing them down, stepping out of the feet.

I wanted to go all-in.

I wanted to be brave enough to stand there completely naked.

But at the last second, I couldn’t seem to force my hands to hook my panties and yank them down.

Tags: Jessica Gadziala Professionals Billionaire Romance
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