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I follow her to the boardroom, my tabletop fantasy high in my mind as she leans forward to set the food out. When she turns around abruptly, I jerk my eyes up to her face, but I’m pretty sure it was too late.
“Lincoln Brightman, were you just checking out my ass?” She places a hand on her hip, her eyebrows flying up.
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. I laugh, lifting my hands in the air. “Busted.”
Incredulous laughter rings from her mouth, sucking me in a little further. “You’re no better than your brother.”
“Now that’s just playing dirty, Jules.” I smirk and take a few slow steps toward her. “But I guarantee I am way, way better than my brother.”
I don’t know what made me say it. Why I didn’t shove those words right back where they came from. But now they’re out there, hanging in the air between us. She blinks rapidly, as if she’s not sure she heard me right. Or if she did, that she might be imagining the innuendo.
Nope. It’s totally there.
“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it,” she manages, but I don’t miss the way her eyes dart down, running over my body. I also don’t miss the telltale dart of her tongue across her lips as her eyes reach my cock.
Holy fuck.
What?
I can’t even process what’s happening. Because there is no denying there’s some kind of sexual tension gathering in the room, sweeping us up in it. It’s like every fantasy I’ve had come to life. She’s seriously looking at me like she wants me. Something I have never seen on her face before.
And fuck me, because even though I know it’s a terrible idea—that I’m her boss and there’s nothing that terrifies me more that running her off—I’m walking toward her, stalking, really, with nothing but dirty, wicked intentions.
Jules
Oh god. Linc has a glint in his eye. That same one I thought I saw this morning on the train. I didn’t recognize it then, but there’s no denying now what it is. Pure, unadulterated lust. As if he wants to spread me across the table like I’m what he wants to eat for lunch.
I gasp, my thighs quivering at the mere thought of him between my legs.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice pitched low, “you should just take my word for it, Jules. That would be the smart thing to do.”
My throat feels tight, and I struggle to swallow against the nerves that are rising up.
Another step closer.
“You’re a smart woman,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “You know what you need to do.”
I’m so confused. It’s like he’s warning me off. Telling me that this—whatever this is—is a bad idea. That it would be smart to not go there. But at the same time, he’s coming ever closer, his eyes dark with desire. For me.
And there is no way in hell I can walk away from that.
He stops inches from me, his breath coming nearly as fast and sharp as mine.
“Linc,” I whisper, my eyes wide.
He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Brushing his knuckles across my jaw.
I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut, my body both relaxing into his touch and sparking with dangerous, delicious awareness.
“Fuck, Jules,” he bites out, cupping my cheek in his palm, his thumb tracing my lips.
I suck in a sharp breath, and suddenly my heart is hammerin
g in my chest. Desire flooding my body. Blood rushing through my veins in a race to my center.
“This is a bad idea,” he says, though he doesn’t step away or let go of me.
My eyes open, searching his. “It’s a terrible idea,” I manage to say.
