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But unfortunately, I can’t do that. This isn’t a trivial issue; this is financial fraud, and I could get into real trouble.
“He really is the gift that keeps on giving,” I bite out. “What a fucking mess. This is fraud. If someone complains to the authorities?—”
“They won’t,” Tomas says confidently. Unfazed as usual. If I hadn’t heard him growl with my own ears a few minutes ago when he pushed his fingers into me and found me wet, I wouldn’t have believed it possible. “You heard that woman. Groff was a piece of shit, but they trust you, Alina. You’ve got this.”
His words make me feel better. “Let me get a cup of coffee, and I’ll start drafting an email to my members apologizing for Simon’s fuck-up.”
“Didn’t you bring coffee? I could have sworn I saw you with a travel mug. Ah, here it is.” He picks it up off his desk and hands it to me. “It’s still hot.”
My cheeks turn pink. “That coffee isn’t for me,” I say sheepishly. “It’s for you.” I thrust the mug into his hand. “Here. I tried to make your disgustingly sweet concoction, but don’t get your hopes up. I’ve never made it before, and I stirred in the sweetened condensed milk before I realized the coffee and the condensed milk were supposed to be separate layers. So, it might not be very good.”
His eyes turn warm. “You made me a café bombon? Why?”
I’m too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “I told you. The sugar hides the rat poison.”
He takes a sip, and a bittersweet expression washes over his face. “It tastes like home,” he says, so quietly that I almost don’t hear him. “Thank you.” Then, that vulnerable expression vanishes, and he gives me his maddening grin. “You’re still trying to poison me? I’m hurt, Alina. I thought we agreed to be friends.”
“I see the lack of sleep has made you delirious,” I respond with a roll of my eyes. “My friends call me Ali, by the way.”
But Tomas and I are not friends. Friends don’t spread your legs, spank you, and make you come.
We’re not friends. We’re not enemies either, not anymore, not after today’s make-out session.
So, what are we?
25
TOMAS
She made me a café bombon. I take a sip of the beverage, and the sweetness and creaminess hit my tongue. I close my eyes and feel the warmth of a Valencian sun on my face.
“It tastes like home,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
Then I open my eyes, and I realize it’s not the remembered feel of the Valencian sun that’s warming my heart.
It’s Alina.
I swallow back the swell of emotion and paste a grin on my face. “You’re still trying to poison me? I’m hurt, Alina. I thought we agreed to be friends.”
“I see the lack of sleep has made you delirious,” she responds pertly. “My friends call me Ali, by the way.”
Friends. I want to laugh. The things I want to do to her are very un-friend-like.
“Ali,” I repeat, slow and soft like a caress. “Thank you for the rat poison.”
A smile flashes on her face. “You’re welcome, Tomas.” Our eyes connect for a moment, and then she takes a step away and turns to her computer. She opens a blank document, no doubt ready to craft the email to her members apologizing for Groff’s fuckup. Alina—Ali—doesn’t ease into her day. No, she attacks it head-on. “Time to craft a conciliatory, apologetic email to a quarter of my members.”
“I can issue refunds automatically if you’re looking for a silver lining.”
“That’d be great.”
She’s got her hair up in a ponytail again. I want to tug the strands free and run my fingers through their length. I want to kiss those soft lips again and feel her moan into my mouth. I need to taste her sweet cunt, pleasure her, take her to the edge over and over until she’s an aching, quivering mess, sweaty and flushed and so, so beautiful.
But sex is only part of it. There’s a reason I’ve spent more hours at the gym this last week than at work, and it’s because I like being with Ali. I like working with her in the office, joking with her about rat poison, and driving with her in the moonlight. I find myself wanting to swoop in and solve all her problems. Threatening the contractor giving her the run-around, doing her books, arranging for Paulina to step in when her cleaning service didn’t show up, insisting she take Ibuprofen after her fight—I would do those things all over again and more.
I could have fended Maria off by myself. So why did I involve Ali in the pretense? Because deep down inside, I wanted to kiss her.
I want to be with her. I’m searching for excuses to spend time in her company.
