He rubbed his shoulder and grumbled a few choice words under his breath.
“Bruce pull your arm out of the socket on a walk?” Seventy pounds of wrinkly dog was no joke, and I might as well have been made of papier-maché with the way he dragged me around downtown.
“Messed up my shoulder doing deadlifts.” He gave another wince as he gingerly kneaded his fingers into his shoulder. His collared shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and the ink on his skin was on full display.
Images of Brogan’s muscles bunching together as he lifted weights, sweat trickling down each notch of grooved skin crossed my mind. Before I took time to process what a bad idea it was, I asked, “Do you need a massage now?”
His shoulders stiffened, and his voice grew wary. “I…don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Oh, Brogan, you are so right. So very right.
And yet, I never had a knack for going with the consensus. Instead, I dug myself a deeper hole. I blamed this boldness on wasabi, dimples, and lack of sleep. “It’s something you’d pay a complete stranger to do. I really don’t mind.” I’d like to say that my selfless tendencies were firing on all four cylinders tonight, but let’s be honest here—I’d take any excuse to be near Brogan, in any capacity. Because my masochistic streak was the size of the Space Needle.
“I mind.” His voice lowered an octave and hit me square between the thighs when he said, “Being this close to you makes me forget why I wrote the rules in the first place.”
Air magically dissipated from my lungs, and words jumbled up into nonsensical groupings. Because, holy hell in a hand basket, it was one thing to have a flirty moment at the elevator. An entirely different one when he said this aloud. What had changed in the span of a week? And more importantly, did I want this? If I pushed further, I was clearly violating the employee handbook, therefore jeopardizing my spot in this company, and then where would I be with helping Mom? I had more than myself to think about here.
The smart thing to do would be to apologize, slink out of the office, and return to the Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia pint I’d been working on last night. The spoon was still in the container, ready and raring to go.
Something in his expression kept me from rescinding my offer, though. His eyes were filled with heat, wanting, and they were aimed at me. Frankly, I’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.
“What does it say in your manual about massages?”
He mashed his lips together, his hooded eyes focusing on my mouth. “I don’t think there is anything listed about it.”
I stood and placed a hesitant palm over his shoulder. “And what about touching the boss? Does it say anything about that?”
He stiffened momentarily and then melted into my touch. “Not specifically.”
“Then I don’t see anything wrong with a friendly massage.” I swallowed hard. Maybe friendly was the wrong term, because my I want to jump your bones, and, does this massage come with a happy ending? thoughts were not of the friend variety.
He swiveled his chair to face me, and my hands fell to his chest. Charcoal gray dress slacks boxed in either side of my legs, and I gave in to my need to move closer. Brogan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his gaze lazily traced down my body.
“I won’t take it as friendly.” His gravely voice caressed my skin and goose bumps followed in its wake.
Even though he was sitting, I’d only have to bend down a couple inches to reach his face. A silence spread between us, eyes tracked eyes, breaths and the hum of his computer the only thing cracking our little bubble of office-rule-breaking.
“What are we doing?” I whispered as his strong hands found my hips and pulled me closer so that my legs were flush against his chair.
His gaze dipped to my mouth and he said, “I’m tired of playing by the rules. I’ve wanted you since that first day in the break room. Your smart mouth drives me insane. In fact, I haven’t thought about anything besides your lips all night.”
I stopped breathing altogether as he moved a fraction of an inch closer, his grip on my hips tightening.
“This is a bad idea, right?” This was the proper thing to say, when one occasionally sexually harassed one’s boss, but for the life of me I couldn’t come up with a reason to stop. The only things running through my mind were flashes of Brogan in a towel, the weight of his body against mine, the need for there to be way less clothes in this current equation.
“Yes.” His hand skimmed up my arm and caressed my cheek. He lightly tugged on the back of my neck, and I leaned down, my hands clutching the armrests. A few inches spanned between us, close enough that his exhale was my next breath. His deep brown eyes darkened with a hunger, a need that pulsed straight to my core. His lips parted, and he closed another inch of the gap between us.
“Should we stop?” My voice came out barely above a whisper.