It wasn’t that James didn’t have potential. He was cute, and funny and flirty. The jury was out on whether or not he’d know how to fuck, but there was something missing. Something that wasn’t pulling me toward him, making me want to imagine him naked.
Unlike Knightley. Shit, why was my mind wandering to Knightley again? I squeezed my thighs together and turned to James.
“You live over here?” he asked.
“Just for a few months,” I replied, trying to pay attention to him and not betray that I was sitting here thinking about another man.
“And then you’ll head back to the States?”
“Sure. That’s where my family is.” Christ, was that all I had in the US? No job, no apartment, nothing. Just siblings who were all moving on to the next stage of their lives and three boxes of God knew what in my sister’s garage.
“What about you? You live in London?”
“Islington.”
I nodded even though I had no clue where that was.
“I’m a banker. We both are,” he said, lifting his chin toward his friend.
“Is he single?” I asked.
James chuckled. “You interested?”
“Oh, no. I meant for Darcy. I’m looking out for her.” I hadn’t meant for it to sound like I wasn’t interested in the handsome guy I was talking to, who was so far perfectly charming, but he’d picked up on something. The fact was, I wasn’t that interested in him.
Knightley had gotten under my skin, and although I wasn’t about to march into his office and request he take me on the desk, I also didn’t want to fuck one person while thinking about another. Somehow it didn’t seem right. I glanced across at Darcy and the floppy-haired blond who was making her laugh. Tonight was about her.
I was happy to play wingman and be left to my fantasies of a naked Knightley.
Ten
Alexander
After only four hours of sleep, I’d been at the gym doors when they’d opened at five thirty, but even a brutal workout hadn’t exhausted me. My mind was all over the place. I just couldn’t concentrate. I screwed up the paper I’d been making notes on and threw it in the bin in the corner of my office. I had too much energy. I’d worked all weekend in the hotel, gone on two long runs along the Thames, but still hadn’t slept well.
After sitting next to Violet during last week’s meeting, I’d done my best to rid myself of all thoughts of her. I hated the way I’d changed my behavior because of her—even if it was in the smallest way—by sitting in a different spot in the conference room. Even though I’d told myself that it was a better position from which to make a surreptitious exit, I knew the truth.
I was full of shit.
I’d wanted to be near her, to breathe in her scent and feel the heat of her body next to mine.
It pissed me off.
No woman made me lose focus on my work. Ever. My broken marriage was a testament to that.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath at the knock at the door. I could tell by the confident rap it was Violet. She was probably the only one in these chambers who wasn’t scared to interrupt me when she needed to. “Come in,” I said, turning my attention to my computer screen. I didn’t want to have to look at her, didn’t want her to see how much she’d gotten under my skin, or how much I resented her for it.
“Do you have any more dry cleaning?” she asked. “I’m happy to take your shirts to be laundered.”
Fuck, she sounded so innocent, but I suspected she was anything but. “I don’t need you to babysit me,” I said. “I can arrange my own laundry.” Perhaps, if I was less than polite, she’d leave me alone.
She didn’t respond, and I looked up to see if she’d left me in peace. “What are you doing?” I asked as I saw her squeezing between two towers of paper.
“Knitting a sweater. You? Trying to get into the finals for asshole of the year?” she said as she disappeared behind the piles of paper.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or spank her, but my twitching cock told me I wasn’t mad.
I got up from my desk and moved toward her. The last thing I wanted was for her to knock one of the piles over—they’d all go down like dominoes. “What are you looking for?” I asked, taking in her tight arse as she bent over in front of me. If I took two steps forward, I’d be able to skim my hands over her waist. She’d probably gained confidence and was trying to take some more of the Ellington case papers she’d been slowly stealing each time I left the office.
“I’m taking some of these,” she said, her arms full of witness statements by the looks of it. “You might be smart, but you haven’t noticed that I’ve been taking bits of this pile when you’re out of the office.” She stood up and turned to stare at me defiantly. I wasn’t about to spoil her fun and tell her that I knew exactly when she’d been in my office and what she was taking. I wouldn’t give away that her jasmine perfume clung to every part of this office, including me, or that I’d imagined smelling it all weekend.
“So you’re stealing from me?” I asked, folding my arms.
“I’m doing my job.” She shook her head and bent to pick up a single sheet of paper that had escaped from the pile she was holding.
Fuck she was sexy. Every move, every curve—the confident way she met me head on—equal to equal.
“I have no idea what has crawled up your ass,” she said, stepping toward me between two towers of paper. “But pull it out, get out of my way, and let me get on with this.”
I stayed right in her way. I didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. “What have you got there?” I placed my hand over hers to adjust the papers she was holding so I could see. Her skin was soft and smooth, and she gasped but she didn’t pull away. Instead her eyes flickered to my face and I met her gaze. My resolve to keep my distance from Violet was wavering.
She inhaled as we looked at each other, neither of us speaking, my heart thudding against my chest, my dick straining in my trousers.
I wanted her.
I was sure she wanted me too.
Her tongue dipped out to wet her lips and my self-control evaporated.
I reached out and cupped her neck, sweeping my thumb over her cheek. She closed her eyes and sank against my palm. My eyes darted down to her chest and back up to her beautiful face. Sliding my hand around, I finally sank my fingers into that glossy, silky hair. It was just as soft and inviting as I’d imagined when I’d seen her on the tube
There was no going back now.
I grabbed the papers from her and tossed them over my shoulder, vaguely aware of the oversized confetti floating to the ground behind me.
Her eyes flung open wide. “What the—”
Before she could ask me what else had crawled up my backside, I pulled her toward me, one hand around her waist, the other tangled in her hair, and pressed my lips against hers. For the first time in days, my mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone—Violet King and the way she felt under my fingers, the way she tasted. It was like I’d arrived back home after a long, arduous trip.
Her knees buckled, and for a second I thought I had her immediate, unwavering submission, but then, as if she’d changed her mind, she pushed at my chest with her tiny hands.