After what feels like forever, he gives a curt nod. “As you wish,” he says, his tone cool and professional again. He turns his attention to the driver, leaning forward in his seat. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”
I can’t help but wonder if he has really missed the message I’m sending him, or if he’s just keeping his professional face on in front of the driver, but I’m suddenly awfully nervous. I’m nervous for what will happen if Brett understands my intentions, and I’m nervous for what will happen if he genuinely believes this is an important work discussion, because if that’s the case, I really have nothing to tell him. I’ve already given him all of the information I have on the potential clients, and I am going to look so stupid when I have nothing else to tell him. How the hell will I explain that one? I guess I’ll find out soon enough if he really believes this is about work.
9
Brett opens the door and starts to get out of the car.
I don’t wait for him to come and open my door. I am too full of nervous energy to sit still and I get out of the car myself. I fish my keys out and open the front door.
Brett follows me in silence.
“Should we take the stairs? It’s only one floor and the elevator takes forever to come. We could be up there before it even reaches us,” I say, aware that I am babbling.
Brett gives me a half smile and nods. “Whatever you think.”
I lead the way up the stairs and manage to get my apartment door unlocked. I push it open and flick on the lights, pleased that it’s reasonably tidy. I gesture towards the living room area. “Make yourself comfortable,” I say. “I’ll get us a drink. I have wine or vodka.”
“I think perhaps a coffee would be more appropriate,” he says.
I nod, feeling my insides twisting and any hope of anything happening between us is dying now. I move into the kitchen and begin making us some coffee. I glance over my shoulder.
Brett hasn’t sat down. He’s standing in front of my bookshelf browsing the titles. His body language has changed completely and he looks closed off. The giddiness of the wine seems to have left him, and the slightly more relaxed, fun version of Brett has gone, replaced by the cold professional version.
As the coffee begins to brew, I turn and lean against the counter, watching Brett as he looks at my books. I’m trying my best to think of some feasible reason for luring him up here, but it’s hard when so much of my attention is focused on his ass and how good it looks even through his jacket.
He turns and catches me watching him. He looks at me, a steely look in his eyes and no sign of the earlier teasing smile playing across his lips.
I hold his gaze, because what else can I do? I have come up with nothing I can say about any of the potential clients that he doesn’t already know.
So I can either have him work out this was my awful attempt at seduction, or I can tell him something he already knows and make myself look ditzy. I don’t even know which of those options is worse.
“You know, it’s extremely unprofessional me being up here at such a late hour,” Brett says.
His words sound like gentle teasing, maybe even flirting, but the steely expression hasn’t left his eyes.
I don’t think he’s joking around anymore. “Why is it unprofessional? You’re only here to talk about work.”
The tiniest hint of a smile plays across his lips and then he eyeballs me with the same fierce intensity of a moment ago. “Oh. You’re still playing that card,” he says.
“Excuse me?” I say, sure I must have misheard him.
He shrugs and this time, his smile reaches his eyes. “Let’s put it this way Opal. You finally have me here. If you want to talk about work, we can. But ask yourself this. Now, you have me where you want me, what do you really want to do to me?” He steps closer to me as he says it, crossing the living room. He stands a couple of feet away from me, staring at me with lust filled eyes.
My pussy is wet just looking at his eyes. I didn’t mishear him and I didn’t misunderstand him. He still wants this. He still wants me. All I have to do is tell him what I really want. But I can’t find the words. His gaze throws me so completely that I just stand there staring at him. My chest is heaving with the fast, short breaths as I try to organise my thoughts.
Brett has an uncanny knack of switching lanes when I least expect it and leaving me staring after him, my mouth agape while I try to focus and keep up. It’s both disconcerting and exhilarating at the same time.
I haven’t decided yet whether I love it or hate it. I know if I don’t say something soon, Brett is going to think I don’t want him. I know how much I will regret it if I let him walk out of here after he’s made it clear that if I want him, I can have him. This thought breaks the paralysis that has seized my body, and I push myself away from the counter, closing the gap between us even further.
“Well, what I really want to do to you is anything but professional,” I say.
He smiles at me. The sexy smile where he only raises one half of his mouth. It’s more of a smirk than a smile, but there’s no malice in it, only lust.
I find it so damned sexy.
“That sounds … interesting,” he says.
“I think so.” I’m still moving forward, and before I really know it, the gap between Brett and
