Can this day get any worse?
Jumping up from my seat, I quickly stuff all the papers back into the folder, and close it. I'm not looking at him as I sniffle, wiping my nose with a tissue I tugged out of the box on my desk.
“I'm fine,” I say firmly, keeping my voice strong.
“You're definitely not fine. What's going on?” I can feel him staring at me, and I hate it.
I don't want to see him, I don't want to be around him, I don't want anything to do with him right now. And I definitely don't want to feel the weight of his eyes on me.
There's something about the way he looks at me that I can't handle right now. It's so deep, so heavy, and I want nothing to do with it.
Picking up my folder, I walk around to the front of my desk, and head to the door. “Don't tell me what I am. I said I'm fine, so I'm fine.” Storming past him, he reaches out to grab my arm and misses.
I feel the air off his fingers, and I exhale a relieved breath. I can keep going.
“Dalia, wait.” Lyle follows me out, but I don't look back at him over my shoulder.
Picking up the pace, I hit the button for the elevator. I watch the light above the doors, not making eye contact with him. I'm still crying, I can't shut it off, and I'm trying so damn hard to.
My chest hurts as my tears become sobs, and Lyle softly touches my shoulder. “Dalia, please, tell me what's wrong. You haven't answered my calls or my texts all weekend. Talk to me, I can't fix anything if I don't know what to do.”
Jerking my shoulder out from underneath his hand, I don't answer. I won't.
And why should I? Why should I tell him anything at all? It's not like he'll care. He'll just go back and tell his sister, and then what? I get fired?
No. Not a chance.
The doors open, and I charge inside. Hitting the star for the lobby, I dart my eyes up. I'm slamming my thumb against the button to close the doors, but Lyle is inside before they slide shut.
“Please, talk to me, Dalia.”
Tipping my chin, I don't even bat a lash in his direction. As far as I'm concerned, my silence should tell him exactly what's wrong.
Lyle grabs my shoulder, spinning me to face him. “If you're not going to talk to me, that's fine, you can just listen.” His fingers dig deeper, holding me in place. “I haven't stopped thinking about you, I can't get you out of my head.” His eyes bounce around my face, feverishly desperate for something from me.
The tears are still flowing effortlessly. My lungs are gasping for air as I cry. His eyes scan my face, and I know he's waiting for a response. He wants me to answer. He wants to hear my thoughts and know what I'm thinking.
But I can't give him that. I'm afraid that anything I say will come back to haunt me later. It obviously has already, the folder in my hands with red graffiti is all the evidence I need for proof of that.
Using his thumb, he captures a tear and wipes it away. His eyes trace my face, moving over my lips. And then he kisses me.
He kisses me hard and fast, coming out of nowhere. Shock makes me freeze, my body limp and motionless as his lips wet mine. In a single breath, he erases everything.
We're not in the elevator. We're not on this earth. We're floating. It's just us, lighter than air, and no one else matters.
Reality quickly rushes in, dropping me back down on to flat feet.
This is wrong! Stop! With firm hands, I shove Lyle away.
“Dalia,” he says, softly caressing my face in his hand. “Tell me you still feel it. Tell me you still want me as badly as I want you. I know I'm not crazy, I know there's something here.”
Silence.
“You're refusing to talk to me, but you know what. . .” Pausing, he reaches out and runs the tips of his fingers around the edge of my ear, and back under my jawline. “I don't need to hear you say it to know it. I can see it, I can feel it. I can smell it.” His eyes drop to the V between my legs and he smiles. “And it smells so fucking sweet.”
His hand cups my cheek, and I lean into it. I don't even mean to do it. My body reacts to him, to his touch, to the way he feels on me, around me, in me. I'm wet instantly, my pussy biting at air, hungry for his cock.
Crushing his mouth against mine, he kisses me again. And this time, I kiss him back. My lips part, my tongue reaches for a taste of his. And for a moment, I let go.
I let go of everything, giving myself to him the way he wants me to. He has me, and I have him.
No! It won't work!
Breaking the kiss, I take a long step back. “We can't do this.” Floating my eyes up to his, I hold his gaze. “You might not see your sister for who she really is, but I do.” Pointing at myself, my eyes expand. “And I know if she ever finds out about us, she'll fire me in a second.”
“Dalia, stop, San—”
Holding up my hand, I shake my head. “We're done, Lyle, whatever this was is over. I'm not going to throw away everything I've worked for. Sandy doesn't play fair, and I'm done risking my job for someone who can't even stand up for what's right. It's easy to see who's really in charge.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Running a finger under my eyes, I wipe away black smears of mascara. “I don't know, Lyle, you tell me.” Slapping the folder against his chest, the doors open to the lobby, and I
