New Tessa doesn’t get aroused.
New Tessa doesn’t moan.
“Of course not, I’ve something in my throat,” I cough, focusing on the conference table while Jackson and Mark laugh at my expense. A slight grunt comes to my attention, and I turned my head to see Oliver with a burning desire in his eyes.
He shakes his head and gives all his attention to Mark and Jackson.
“What were you saying?” he asks.
I look at his profile. His squared jaw, high cheeks, strong neck make me think of those models you only see on social media. I clear my throat again to suppress my craving.
“Maybe I could help in a way if you want to.” I say to gauge the discussion I missed while day-dreaming about Green-eyes.
Mark shakes his head. “The situation is difficult because we know the guy, and we can’t approach him. I know earlier you thought the situation was easy, Oliver, but it isn’t. We need to be discreet. You can’t have people knowing what we’re trying to discover, and some high ranked people asked for our help because of our discretion and your reputation.”
“And isn’t she supposed to only drive me around?” Oliver asks his chin jerking in my direction.
“Yes, and because of this, we can’t really have you linked to us, though. If it goes to shit—”
“I know you already told me this morning!” Oliver cuts Mark off. “Look, you called me for a reason, right?” Mark and Jackson nod, but it’s clear to me the reason they called Oliver has nothing to do with who he used to be and everything with what he’s become. Those are friends giving a hand to a guy who has serious issues keeping his shit together and coming back from hell.
“I’ll help the best I can!” I say still not really knowing what all this is about, but deciding on a whim, I’ll help the sexy asshole. That’s how I make every decision after all, by listening to my gut and not to overthink it.
“You’ll drive, and that’s it,” Oliver answers a little harshly. Jackson nods.
“I can do more than that. I’m sure I can give you a hand in whatever you need.”
Oliver shifts on his chair, his eyes glaring at me like yesterday, but instead of the dislike, I see the heat. They dance between hate, fear, and desire and awaken in me a lot of things I never wanted to feel again.
“Not a chance!” Oliver says between his teeth. “I don’t think you’re reliable.”
My heart freezes, but my blood boils into my veins.
I never thought someone could make me feel such contradictory emotions in so little time. Feeling the anger, I have channeled into all my activities since King died, coming back to the surface, I turn to Mark and Jackson and ask, “can you give us a minute?” They both nod, too happy to leave the room and the tension that has built between Green-eyes and me.
Turning my body to face him, breathe in deeply to tell him what I have to say in the calmest way possible. There is no need for me to be seen as crazy when he already thinks of me as unreliable. He faces me, his body oozing irritation. I fall into his eyes, and they reflect precisely the inner battle I’m fighting. Exhaling loudly, I try to ignore my body and speak my truth.
“I recognize the grief in you.” I start, and he freezes right away. “I went through it. But I think you’re still deeply in it. I don’t think you have your shit as together as you pretend to.” He tries to interrupt me, but I don’t give him the opportunity to. “You don’t hear me sharing my opinion around and making hard judgments out loud. I respect your grief, and I believe that there is more to the guy you’ve been since you arrived. I’m not going to tell you I’ll be there for you and listen to you because each grief leaves behind different scars that only you know how to heal, but I will tell you that I won’t let you put me down and diminish my effort to live life the way I intend to. I’m not new in a world where men are preeminent, and I refuse to let you treat me like the only thing I could be good at is to warm your bed. I see the glances, I feel the heat, I recognize the signs, and you’re going to have to use your hand for a long time before I fall into your arms. I will drive you wherever you need, unless you want to explain to Mark why you don’t need me. I haven’t figured out—”
In one move of his chair, Oliver is in front of me, his legs imprisoning mine. His hand on each side of my thighs burn my skin, and desire rises inside of me. He smells like spices and citrus, sexy and sweet, and the words that were on the tip of my tongue disintegrate like my will to fight him.
My body is like a November morning: chilly, foggy, and dancing in the grey area of life. I want him. I want his hands at the seam of my jeans, pressing on my clit. I want his lips to devour me and his tongue to play with mine. I can’t stop the longing I have for Green-eyes, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I feel as if my mind has left my body and is watching the scene from afar. I lean closer, wanting to taste him and to feel his mouth on mine, and he seems to be wanting it too, but when our lips are almost touching, Oliver halts. His breath is like a caress to my soul, and the pit inside of me needs his kiss.
“Please,” I hear myself beg him.
I close my eyes and let the heat of my thighs spread everywhere. His hands
