Conflict of Interest

chapter 13


The entire ride to Scott’s place was tense. Kenzie spent most of it staring out the window, and he struggled to think of a way to start up a conversation. It took focus to keep his eyes on the road instead of tracing the curve of her neck, studying the way her dress hugged her shape, watching the disappointed heave of her chest every time she sighed. She was out of the car the moment he pulled into his parking spot, waiting next to the door with her hands folded together.

Indecision ripped through him. He didn’t know if he wanted to force her further away, or do whatever it took to make her smile.

But he did know. He was falling for her. Wanted her desperately and not just because the sex was incredible. He was struggling to keep from wrapping her up and comforting her. Except her hesitation when he’d offered her a ride home pretty much cemented for him she didn’t feel the same way.

He kept his distance as they made their way to the elevator. He swiped his wallet over the security bar and pressed the button for the top floor.

As they ascended, fantasy taunted him. Thoughts of bringing the elevator to a stop assaulted him, or even just pulling her close and running his hands over her for a quick, deep kiss before they reached their destination. He could almost feel her pressed against him.

The car glided to a stop, the doors slid open, and he pushed the thoughts aside. He let her step out first, gesturing to the only door on the floor. He forced himself to study the familiar beige walls, the rich silver rug, anything boring and familiar and not her ass, as they crossed the short distance to his door.

He reached around her, careful not to make any contact that could screw further with his head, and opened the door.

She paused just inside, and he had to straighten up and tuck in on himself to slide past without touching her. Her gaze seemed transfixed by the four large-screen TV’s lining the wall and the battered micro-suede sectional that might not land him in Better Homes and Gardens, but at least it was comfortable.

A smile tugged on her lips. “It’s not what I pictured, but I like it. A lot.”

He tried not to let the compliment warm him and failed. He nodded toward the closet. “You can leave your shoes in there. I can, I don’t know, try and dig you up something more comfortable to change into.” Please let that not be the wrong thing to say. Maybe she wanted to wear the evening gown for a few more hours.

She shrunk a few inches when she stepped out of her shoes. “That would be nice.”

He headed toward his bedroom without another word and draped his jacket and vest over the back of a chair, happy to be rid of at least one restriction. He yanked open a drawer and sifted through T-shirts until he found a newer one. White, simple, with someone’s black graphic on the back.

“I like your room.” Her soft voice startled him.

He whirled, surprised to see her lingering in the doorway, gaze on him and nowhere else. He didn’t know how much longer he could fake the small talk without sliding into flirting. He handed her the shirt. “You can wear this. I’ll dig you up a pair of shorts or something to go with it.”

“It’s fine, thank you.” She took it with a smile and turned her back to him. “Unzip me?”

Oh geez, seriously? The blood rushed from his head to fill his lower extremities.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “It’s hard to reach by myself, and it’s not nearly as comfortable as I’m sure it looks. Please?”

He swallowed hard and grabbed her zipper. His pulse screamed as he slid it down the length of her back, the two halves of her dress parting and exposing pale, smooth skin. It took all his restraint not to lean in and trail his lips down her spine. He realized his breathing was shallow. Why was his hammering heart choosing this moment to betray his reluctance to be hurt by her?

She dropped the dress, and it pooled around her feet. Still standing with her back to him, she raised her hands over her head. Every curve was elongated, accented by black lace panties and matching thigh-high stockings. She tugged his shirt over her head, and it dropped into place. Even though she was only a few inches shorter, she was enough thinner that it ended halfway down her thighs, right above her stockings.

She plucked the chopsticks from her hair and shook it loose as she spun to face him.

He struggled to keep his eyes on her face, failing as he traced her figure and the way his shirt hinted at everything that was and wasn’t underneath. That was so not any better.

She studied him for a moment and then stepped closer. “I can’t believe you didn’t yank this off hours ago.”

Her fingers worked their way under his tie, brushing his throat. He inhaled sharply.

She gave him a curious look while she loosened the bow. She worked her way down the front of his shirt, undoing each button as she moved, pulling it open when she reached the bottom. “Better?”

“No.” His voice barely reached his own ears.

Her bottom lip stuck out. “What’s wrong?”

He clenched his hands into fists, fighting back the urge to trace a finger over her pout, or press her against the wall and kiss her until he couldn’t breathe, and even then he might not stop. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself enough to answer. “I’m good. I just need some sleep.”

Her frown deepened. “You’re not good.”

With her still standing in the doorway, he couldn’t get around her without touching her. He stepped back into his room, but putting the extra space between them didn’t help clear his thoughts. An ache throbbed below his waist. “You’re making it really hard to behave myself.”

She rested a hand on his chest, and then slid lower to his belt. “You’ve never complained before.”

He grabbed her wrist, her skin almost searing his hand. “You’re the one who keeps insisting we put some professional distance between us. If you keep this up, that won’t happen. The only thing I can think about right now is how amazing you look in my shirt, and how you’d look even better if I tore it off.”

“I—” She faltered, pulling away and biting her bottom lip. She tugged down the edge of the shirt, not looking at him. Her head shot up, and she brushed her lips over his.

F*ck professional boundaries. He twisted his fingers in her hair, tugging her head back and kissing her hard. She whimpered and pressed into him, body sliding against his. Every inch of him ached in response. He pushed until her back hit the door frame. His mouth worked down her neck, teeth nipping at the soft skin. God she tasted amazing. The soft flower of her perfume mingled with the faint salt of perspiration and made him lightheaded.

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and he let go of her long enough to let it drop. He rested one hand on the back of her neck, lips seeking hers out again, tongue dancing over hers. His other hand slid down her side, pushing the shirt out of the way until he met her bare waist. Her skin was soft against his palms.

Her nails raked over his undershirt, and he growled in response.

This was such a bad idea. He was hooked, and she would walk away in the morning, wearing her professional mask. He broke away abruptly.

She frowned, hurt reflected in her blue eyes.

But he would do anything to keep that look at bay, even if it destroyed him. Besides, there were worse ways to die a slow painful death than making love to the woman he was falling for. He grasped her wrists loosely in one hand and pushed her arms over her head, pinning her to the door frame.

Her surprised gasp and follow-up moan seared his senses, obliterating any traces of thought about this being a bad idea. He pressed into her, holding her in place as he sucked along her neck. “Like this?” he asked, a growl vibrating through her skin.

She molded against him, frame soft and sensual, making him harder every time she shifted her weight. She whimpered and nodded.

He pressed his mouth to hers again, swallowing the intoxicating sounds of her reactions. Dropping his free hand to her waist, he pushed the shirt up again. She was hot against his palm as he slid it down her stomach. He wanted to be patient. To seduce her and prolong the moment. His lust disagreed; the desire to feel her, to taste her, to hear her cry out in pleasure sooner rather than later won out.

He dipped a hand under the elastic of her high-cut panties, seeking out her heat while his tongue danced around hers in a long kiss.

She ground against his hand when he found her already wet slit and glided down easily. Two fingers slid inside her, and she broke the kiss, her moan echoing through the condo. She shifted her weight, arms still trapped and limiting her movement. He smirked when she thrust against his hand, letting out a low growl when her hip pressed against his cock, rubbing through his slacks.

He brought his thumb to her *, the swollen button eagerly greeting him, and she tilted her head back, eyes closed, lower lip caught between her teeth. Her breathing grew shallow as he pumped his fingers in and out, massaging her as she moved against him.

Her gasps came in short bursts, and her muscles gripped his fingers as she came. She shuddered and collapsed back against the wall, drawing away from his touch.

He wanted her badly and he wanted her now. He let go of her wrists, intending to lead her farther into the bedroom. Shock and a new wave of intense desire screamed through him when she pulled his hand from her waist instead. Hooded eyes never leaving his, she wrapped her tongue around his finger, drawing it into her mouth and slowly licking her juices from it.

He groaned with need. He couldn’t take much more of the teasing, but he was loving every minute of the slow torture. She repeated the gesture again until she’d cleaned each of his fingers.

He reached for her, and she shook her head and stepped away. “Not this time.”

He raised an eyebrow, the confidence making his cock throb harder.

She didn’t say anything else as she trailed a fingernail down his chest, tracing along the waist of his slacks again. She reached the button and undid it, slowly pulling down his zipper.

A deep growl rumbled through his chest, anticipation making it difficult to think. She tugged his slacks and boxers down, and his arousal sprang free, cool air rushing in around it.

He swayed on his feet when she dropped to her knees. She drew her hands along his inner thighs. He watched in hungry anticipation as her tongue flicked out, brushing his bulbous head before she took him into her mouth.

He sucked in a fast breath through his teeth at the intense sensation, almost ready to burst from the simple touch. His knees went weak as her mouth slid down his shaft and he hit the back of her throat.

She stroked him as her tongue and lips glided along his length, the gesture slow at first, but increasing in pace in response to the guttural noises tearing from him. Her soft touch short-circuited his thoughts. The evaporating stress from the evening mingled with the hunger from her devouring him, and he felt himself drawing toward climax quickly.

“Kenz,” he managed to gasp between pants. He tugged her arm, trying to pull her away.

She looked up at him, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief and determination. Her pace increased again, and she didn’t pull away. Geez, that look. It was enough to push him over the edge. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, grunting as he came, still thrusting against her mouth as she swallowed him.

He shuddered as the last wave washed through him, and rested a hand against the wall to steady himself. She pulled away gently, licking him clean and sending another shudder through him at her soft tongue against his now hyper-sensitive skin.

He pulled her to her feet, fingers still tangled in her hair, and kissed her deeply. She sighed and pressed into him, nails digging into his back as she held him close. He gasped when they finally broke for air, lust still pumping through him.

He dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “You’re still amazing.” His words were marred by his heavy breathing. “Even more than last time I said it.”

She trailed her nails up his spine, voice soft. “Only with you.”