I shrug out of my jacket and pull my chair in close. “You look good.”
She laughs and looks away, eyes dropping briefly before rising to meet mine again. “Thanks. So do you.”
“How’ve you been?” I don’t like how awkward this is. It was never like this in Bora Bora, but then that was different I guess. We were isolated. Just us and endless hours of exploration without reality to dampen it. Without weeks of separation and another life to get in the way.
“Good. Okay. Coming home was hard.” She fidgets with her coffee cup, opens her mouth like she wants to say something else, but no words come out. She sighs and closes her eyes. “Dealing with all of this has been . . . challenging.”
“Is Armstrong being a jerk?”
“Isn’t he always?”
“If you need anything . . .” I let it hang there, because really, what can I offer her?
“Pierce deals with his lawyer so I don’t have to speak to him directly. I just can’t believe I didn’t see how awful he can be. Or I didn’t want to. He just needs to sign the papers. Anyway, I have this new job, and I like it.”
“Norman seems pretty happy about working with you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “He’s married.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not interested.”
“He can be interested all he wants, I’m not interested in making my life any messier than it already is.”
I should keep my mouth shut and leave it alone, but I can’t. “Is that why I haven’t heard from you?”
Her eyes, which have been focused on her coffee cup, lift to meet mine. I’m not sure how to read the emotion in them, but she seems surprised by the question. “I thought that’s what you wanted. What we agreed was best.”
“To not hear from you at all? Amie, we’re going to see each other on occasion. It’s unavoidable. You can still talk to me. I can still be a friend.”
Her fingers shake against the cup. “Can you?”
The answer to that question is I don’t know. Probably not is more accurate. But seeing her, being here with her, makes me want to see more of her. “Be your friend? I can be whatever you want.” I reach across the table and stroke the back of her hand. Even the benign contact meant to soothe sends fire through my veins. All that electric lust shuts down every rational part of my brain. The parts that knows I should walk away, but can’t. Her eyes drift closed and her breath leaves her on a soft whimper. “Tell me what you want, Amie.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
She meets my gaze with an imploring one of her own. “I’m still married, even if it’s only on paper. If anyone found out about us, it would make this so much worse.”
“That’s okay. No one has to know.”
“Is that really okay for you?”
“It is if you want it to be.” I shouldn’t be pushing her, but I don’t want to leave behind what happened in Bora Bora. It’s not fair of me. She’s right to say it’s not a good idea. The wedding was two months ago, and she’s only been home for a few weeks. Not nearly enough time to get over what’s happened. They’re still sorting things out with lawyers. She’s still technically married and trying to get her feet back under her, and here I am, pulling the rug out by offering her things I shouldn’t.
“I can’t get you out of my head,” she says softly, eyes brimming with conflicted emotion.
I don’t know what the message is that she’s trying to convey. Keep pushing? Don’t push? “Do you want me out of your head?”
Her teeth press into her lip. She doesn’t nod.
“So then stop trying.”
“I should really get back to work.” The waver in her voice is telling. She wants to leave but she can’t. And I’m enough of an asshole to make it even harder to walk away from me.
“How far is work?”
“A couple of blocks.”
“I’ll have my car come get us.” I pick up my phone and fire off a message.
“I can walk that distance faster than a car can drive it.”
“I know.”
“Lex.” Her breathing is shallow, quick.
“He’s around the corner, he’ll be here in less than two minutes.”
She hesitates for a second, then gathers her things, hands trembling as she shoves file folders in her bag. I help her into her coat, fingers grazing the back of her neck. She makes a soft noise and leans into the touch, and then we’re out the door, stepping into the cold New York afternoon. The car doesn’t even come to a full stop in front of the café before I wrench the door open, motioning for Amie to get in.
“Where’s your office?” I ask as she slides across the seat to make room for me.
She murmurs the address and I bark it to the driver, hitting the button for privacy.
The divider isn’t even fully closed before I’m on her, lips crashing together, teeth clashing. She grabs the back of my neck and moans into my mouth. I mirror the sound, hands roaming her curves through her clothes.
Mouths still connected, she yanks down the zipper on her skirt and shimmies out of it. She’s wearing thigh highs and pale lace panties. “Don’t want to go back to work a wrinkled mess.” She straddles me, fighting with the buttons on my suit jacket because her hands are shaking so much.
I cover them with one of mine. “Are you sure you want to do this?” What the fuck?
“Why ask now?” she snaps.
“I don’t want you to regret me again.”
“I didn’t regret you in the first place.” She gets to work on my belt, freeing the clasp, and popping the button on my pants, pulling down the zipper. Her soft, warm hand wraps around my cock and we both groan. “I can’t wait to feel you in me again. Why do you have to be so good at fucking me?” She’s almost angry, a lamented sound falls from her lips as she strokes me. “Get a condom.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I lift my hips and dig around for my wallet.
She snatches it from me, flipping it open. She pauses for a second, her gaze suddenly hard as she retrieves the foil square. “Have you fucked anyone else?”
I shake my head.
“Good.” She tears the wrapper.
“You?”
“No.”
I cup her through her panties and she arches into the touch. When I try to get under the lace and satin, she pushes my hand out of the way. “You don’t want my fingers first?”
“I just want you.”
“You sure? You’re gonna be sore.” I know this because we’d done it before in Bora Bora and it slowed us down for about twenty-four hours. In the days after she left, I kept going back to that night in particular, thinking about how I would’ve done things differently so I could’ve had more of her.
“Good. I want to feel you into next week.” She uses the head of my cock to push her panties to the side and drops down without any warning.
Her mouth falls open, her shocked gasp a good indicator that some prep would’ve been a better idea. But Christ, does it ever feel good to be inside her again. She grabs my chin, her nails digging into my jaw, lips brushing over mine. “This. You. I can’t.” She bites my bottom lip, fingertip sliding over the tender flesh after she releases it from her teeth.