Page 92 of Miss Understanding

The moment we arrived at his house, and he ushered me in, he was on me. “You in this dress drove me crazy all night.”

He’d certainly hidden it well. “It did?”

“Yes. You look stunning. Obviously, Stephen thought so, too, since he monopolized you for most of the night.”

He was kissing down my neck now while my hands helped him shed his jacket. “Mm, Stephen doesn’t swing my way.”

He pulled back, his brow arched. “Huh. Really?”

“Yeah. He sort of offered me a job, and I must’ve looked like it creeped me out because then he confided I wasn’t his type. That you, in fact, were more his type.”

Liam chuckled. “Thank God.”

Not the words I’d expected him to say. “You’re happy you’re Stephen’s type?”

“No. I’m happy you are not.”

He carefully unzipped my dress and let it pool to the floor. I could feel myself aching for his touch, expecting him to hurry it along. But he didn’t. Instead he peppered kisses from behind me on my shoulders, trailing his tongue up along the base of my neck. Oh, Jesus. This slow, sweet seduction was doing things to my emotions. It would be easier to keep thinking of this as a non-relationship if he bent me over his desk instead of making love with so much intimacy.

Turning around, I met his lips in a scorching kiss, hoping to speed things along, but he wasn’t having it.

“I don’t think so. I plan on savoring you.”

An hour later, I was completely sedated from his lovemaking, having lost count of the number of orgasms he’d given me. His hand trailed down my back while I lay curled up in his embrace.

“Did Stephen really offer you a job?”

“He did.”

“He needs an assistant?”

My body instantly tensed. “Actually, he knows I wouldn’t leave for another assistant job.”

“Then, what would he offer?”

I sat up, looking down at him in the moonlight. “Are you implying I wouldn’t be considered for anything other than a secretarial position?”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to make it sound that way.”

His apology rang true, but it also triggered what was bothering me the most. Unable to help myself, I pushed, despite knowing that doing so would have consequences. “What do you think about us going out for breakfast tomorrow since we’ll be up at a decent time?”

Now it was his turn to tense. “It’s not a good idea. A lot of attorneys from the office live down here in South Bay.”

My emotions were starting to get the better of me. “So what? It’s not like there’s a rule against us dating in the office.”

“No, but I can’t have people in the office finding out about our arrangement.”

Arrangement. Why did that word seem so dirty? So clinical. “Right. Then, I should probably go home now.” I climbed out of bed, trying not to tie his words to my self-worth. I’d never been ashamed of being an assistant, buying my clothes secondhand, or having to work hard for a living. I wasn’t about to feel diminished now. It was clear this non-relationship was no longer working for me.

“What are you talking about? Stay until tomorrow. I can order breakfast in. Anything you want.”

I found my panties first and then my dress in a pool at the bottom of the bed. Luckily, my phone was in my clutch, fully charged. “No, thanks. I need to go.” Before I started crying.

I hated to head home at this hour, but flight was the only way I could think of dealing with this situation. After pulling on my dress, I typed in my Uber app, wishing instead of UberX, there was UberShame. It would be a car with tinted windows, extra panties, vodka to dull the pain, chocolate, and some tissues. Oh, along with a very sweet and understanding driver who would listen to my troubles and mutter words like, “he’s a bastard,” the entire ride home.

“What is happening with you? What am I missing?” Liam was out of the bed, pulling on his boxers and running a hand over his face.

“I don’t know. I just need to get home.” Because the tears had already started.