And I am totally tangled in the song Ryder’s composing.
He turns slightly, sitting back on the desk, never breaking his hold on me, his lips still locked on mine. He pushes up my dress, cupping one hand over the back of my panties, making me instantly wet with anticipation. “I like the new cut,” he says, tugging a lock of hair with the other hand, pulling my head back to kiss underneath my cheek, underneath my chin, his lips tickling as they trail down my neck.
“Thanks. Most guys prefer long hair,” I say, my breath catching in my throat, just as I’m caught between wanting to melt in the heat of Ryder’s mouth on my skin and wanting to be able to resist the promise of his strong hands as they rub the roundness of my ass.
He kisses my chest, between the V of my dress collar. “I guess I’m not most guys.”
His tongue teases across the tops of my breasts, and I begin to unfasten his shirt buttons, my fingers exploring the taut muscles of his defined chest. I push the shirt open, glimpsing the tops of the tats on his shoulders—an intricate, delicate butterfly on one, a bee in flight on the other. I lean forward, kissing his pecs as my fingers continue to work through each button, grazing past the cash in his left pocket—and I’m jarred back to the reality of why we’re here in the first place. “Just put this toward the debt,” I say, patting the bills through the fabric.
“My heart?” he says. His hand still underneath my dress, he slides it up my back, pulling me closer to him.
“The money.”
“You worked hard for it,” he says, kissing the curve of my cleavage, making my nipples harden. “It’s yours.”
“But keeping it just slows down paying you back.”
“If it makes you feel better,” he says, grinning as he looks up at me, squeezing my ass under my dress, “I’m sure I can think of a way to pay me back faster.”
I push back from him, not sure if he’s serious or kidding. But if there’s something I know for sure about men it’s that they’re always serious about sex. And if they have to wield a little power or intimidation to get it—Because I’m your boss, I’m your boyfriend, I’m your husband—they will. You owe them. Or so they think.
Not all men. But some men. Sometimes even men who sweep you off your feet. Who you think you trust. Or love.
So while it’s one thing for whatever these rendezvous are to be a bit of fun for Ryder and me both, it’s quite another to have it be my real job at Altitude.
Like all I am is an adding machine with some holes and handles.
Fuck that. Fuck him.
“Is that what you really wanted to see me about?” I say, yanking down the back of my dress, straightening my collar. “To get me to agree to prostitute myself til you’ve had your ten-thousand-dollars’ worth?”
He stands, his shirt open, all except the bottom buttons, his magnificent bare chest on full display. Above his jeans, his pelvic muscles form the lines of a perfectly sculpted V, narrowing toward his cock straining against his fly. He walks toward me, his arms open in front of him, like he’s making an offering of some kind.
Probably an excuse.
“Cassie, wait. Please wait.”
“Leave me alone,” I say, turning toward the door. I reach for the knob as he turns the new lock and covers it with one hand, holding onto my waist with the other, his half-naked torso so close I can feel the warmth of his skin radiate through my thin dress.
A minute ago I would have liquefied from the heat. Now it just fuels my fire.
“It was a joke,” he says.
“Sure it was,” I say. “Unless I agreed. And then it’s just a business deal, right?”
He raises an eyebrow, pulling himself toward me. “Pretty fun business we’re in, then.”
I slap him. Not hard enough to leave a mark. Certainly not even close to as hard as I’m sure he’s been hit in the boxing ring—or the bedroom, probably.
But it’s hard enough to get his attention. He puts his hand to his cheek, his mouth slightly open, but mercifully silent. His eyes are big, like he can’t believe what just happened and honestly, I’m not sure I can either. I mean, I’m not a violent person, but I’ve been in violent situations—and I know if you’re going to give someone a smack, you better be ready to receive one, too.
But Ryder doesn’t retaliate. He doesn’t even seem upset. His gaze never moves away from me, but there’s a look of amusement in it, like he’s on the cusp of smiling or laughing.
Probably just another hilarious joke that I don’t get.
I walk out of the office, content to have something as straightforward as numbers to focus on for the rest of the day. That’s what I like about math. The rules don’t change. You always know where things stand.
If only everything could be that simple.
CASSIE
CH. 14