Hot Water (12 page)

“Don’t be silly,” Violet says, “You would have given him a blowjob.”

I point at my computer. “I have to get to work,” I say as nicely as possible, even though I’m silently kicking myself for ever wanting to make myself look more important and interesting to these guys. They’ll never forget that I rode a limo with him, and they’ll probably never stop theorizing about what I did with him. I will never be able to put a cap on this rumor. Never. I will be on my deathbed and one of them will probably come around and say, “Hey! Remember when you rode in a limo with Caden Williams eighty years ago . . .?”

Twenty minutes before the day ends, Caden sends me an email with another bunch of slides he wants me to create. I know my mom is waiting for me at the elevators, so I stop by and tell her I’ll be staying late.

“Okay, great,” she says, giving me her Proud Mom smile. Strangely, the only time I ever get this smile is when I’m up to my neck in work. Then she hands me a twenty. “Order dinner in, if you want. Mr. Williams is not the best at remembering those things when he’s on a deadline.”

I walk to my desk, thinking
Great
. So he really is all business. All business, all the time. He can’t even remember food. What type of person forgets food, one of the great pleasures of life?

As I get to work, my phone starts ringing. “Miss Chase? Why don’t you come to Victoria’s station? She left for the evening. We can be closer that way.”

Closer
. Dirty thoughts start to take root to my mind, but I stifle them before they can bloom.

“In case you need to confer with me on anything.”

I’d confer with you on anything
, I think, but then I realize I’m sounding as desperate and sex-crazed as Jacinta. I need to get a life. He’s marrying the most perfect woman in the world, and wouldn’t give an eighteen-year old surfer girl the time of day. I move my piles of paper to his receptionist’s desk and set everything up, adjusting the chair so that it’s right for my height. From here, I’m right beside the window, but with the blinds closed, I can’t even make out shadows inside. I imagine him at his desk, hunched over his computer.

After an hour of working, I’m starving. I wonder if I should order something for Caden, but instead I decide on Chinese for one. I consider this his punishment for being a no-good, cheating womanizer who looks way too sexy in spectacles.

As I’m waiting for my dumplings arrive, I hear the elevator door ding. Salivating by now, I start to walk toward the entrance when I see golden-blonde curls bouncing this way.

“Hi, Honey,” she coos, and the moment I hear the Southern twang, I know that this is Andrea Finch, the perfect woman that Caden is engaged to. She’s wearing a tiny black raincoat and shaking an umbrella. Though it must be raining, her curls have remarkable spring, and her make-up is without flaw. She’s also wearing high, fuck-me heels that I’d probably stumble all over the place in on the wet roads. But she walks with confidence, like she owns the place. I suppose she sort of does, considering this is the woman Caden is marrying. She gives me a sweet smile and knocks delicately on the door, then twists it open. “Hi, baby,” she coos into the room, slamming the door behind her with a resounding bang.

Okay
. I know I shouldn’t be intruding on their private lives, but I want to know more. I want to know why he loves her. Why he chose her to be his wife, other than that she’s drop-dead gorgeous, because I am sure there are thousands of equally beautiful girls throwing themselves his way. I want to know how he talks to her, what kind of conversations they have. Is he Angry Guy with her? Or does he become putty in her hands? I twist this way and that, trying to see a slant of something in the window, but all I can see is the light outlining the room, and a sliver of the ground right under the window. I try listening at the door, but the voices are muffled.

“Excuse me?” A voice says. I whirl to face the Chinese Food man, who’s looking at me like I have three heads because I effectively have my ear pressed up against the cool glass of the window. Blushing, I pay the man and he hands over my dumplings.

As starving as I was before, suddenly, food is the last thing on my mind. I wonder if I can get a glass, or something, to make the acoustics better, when I suddenly hear a low moan from within the office.

I back away from the window quickly, falling back into the office chair, when I realize that one of the blinds has been tented ever-so-slightly. When did that happen? Had she—or he—pushed down the blind to see outside? If they had, they most certainly would have seen me pressed against the glass with my ear to it. My heart jams itself into my throat, and I can feel it beating everywhere in my body. He’s going to fire me. He’s going to sac me for spying on his fiancé, and I’ll have to tell my mother.

Then I hear the moan again. Moving slightly to the left, I realize I can see perfectly into his office now. And Caden Williams is there, with Andrea. He has her splayed on her chest on his desk, and she is completely naked. Her body is pristine, and her enormous breasts are flattened against his blotter in a way that looks painful. But it’s not, from the moans of pleasure she’s producing. She’s facing away from me, so all I can see is her hair, all that hair. Caden has handfuls of it and his jerking her violently toward him, pounding into her, making her whimper and moan with every thrust. He still has his shirt on, but it’s unbuttoned, and his normally-well manicured hair is loose and falling in his face. He’s Angry Guy again, his face contorted in something more like rage than pleasure. There is no denying who owns the power in this relationship.

And then he looks up. Right at me.

And his face transforms into a wicked smile.

I duck down, breathing heavy, and nearly knock over my dumplings. When had they arrived? Sitting there, my whole body tingling, I’m completely shocked, and completely turned on.

Had he done that . . . for me?

To me? To trick me? To show me what I could’ve had, and now never will?

Ten minutes later, the door swings open, and Andrea walks out, looking perfect, as usual. She tosses her hair and says, “My, aren’t you the good little helper?” Then walks toward the elevators, hips swaying. I can’t help wondering how it felt to be like that, spread over on his desk, letting him do that to her. She’d been groaning in pleasure, wanting more.

“Miss Chase?”

I nearly choke when I hear his voice coming from the intercom on the desk. “Yes?” I manage.

“Come in here.”

I spring up and quickly walk through the door, clutching my pen and notepad to my chest. My hard breathing returns when I see him. He’s fully dressed again, as usual, but the one difference is that the one lock of hair that is usually swept back, is falling into his eyes. It looks indescribably sexy. He looks at me through his spectacles, and motions me to sit, and I wait for that wicked grin to return, for
something
to show me that he’d planned that.

But no. He says, “How’s that presentation coming?”

“Good,” I mumble.

He inspects me. “You look upset. Is something wrong?”

I just stare at him. He knows exactly why I’m hot and bothered. Is he really going to go there? Does he want me to go there, too? Finally, I take a breath and say, “You know why.”

He looks up to the ceiling, smiling innocently. “Do I?”

“Why . . . did you want me to see that?” I say softly.

I wait for him to deny. Instead, he says, “You play games. I thought you would enjoy this one.”

He stands up and walks around his desk. I can’t even believe this is happening. All this time, he’s been the consummate professional, and yet waiting for a time to retaliate for the game I’d played with him. He puts a hand on the arm of the chair on either side of me, and stares in my eyes. His voice is very even. “Did you enjoy it, Miss Chase?”

I swallow, pressing my body as far as I can against the back of the chair and averting his eyes. He suddenly grabs me roughly by the chin and forces me to look into them. “
Did you enjoy it?
” He blares, his voice filled with rage. Then, without warning, he brings his other hand between my legs, presses it against my wet panties. I gasp as his fingers pull the band away and bury themselves deep in my folds. The wicked smile is back. “I see you did. You’re a very bad girl.”

He pulls my lips toward his, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he lets go of my face and kneels between my legs, pushing my skirt up to my hips. He pulls me by the legs, down toward the edge of the seat, so that I can feel his breath on my thigh. By now I know I am making a sticky pool of wetness on his expensive leather chair. He reaches under the skimpy band of my g-string and in one deft pull, the material falls away. I sit there, slumped in the chair and trembling, as he runs his eyes over my naked lower body. “You have one perfect pussy,” he breathes into it, his every word sending small waves of desire through my body. “I’m going to lick it, Miss Chase. Until you come. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” I whisper, hardly able to stand it.

He puts his finger against my slit, and I buck my hips toward him, trying to meet his face. “Yes, what?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” I groan. “Please do it.”

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asks. “Do you want to be my whore?”

“Yes!” I shout, desperate, grabbing for his head, I need to grind him into my sex, to feel him on me. “Yes, I’ll do anything you want.”

He leans in, and I feel the smallest lap on my clit. The feeling is such immense pleasure that my body begins to quake.

There’s a pressure at my elbow. “Miss Chase?”

I shoot upwards from my position on the desk. I’d . . . had I been asleep? In the office? Oh no. I look up. Caden is staring at me through his spectacles. “Are you all right?”

I look at the workstation. There’s drool on Victoria’s blotter, as well as an empty plate of Chinese food. I wipe my mouth. Oh my God, had I been sleeping and
drooling
in front of Caden? And had I just had the most improbable, and completely embarrassing dream . . . involving him?

“I am,” I stammer, blushing as I think of the way I’d seen him in my dream. “It’s just . . . bad Chinese food, I guess.”

Bad Chinese food
? Can I possibly create a more disgusting mental image for him?

He checks his watch. “It’s after one. I didn’t intend to keep you this late. I got wrapped up.”

“That’s okay,” I say sheepishly, looking away. No, I don’t think I can ever look at him again, after that dream. Not ever. Not going to happen. I look around. “Your fiancée . . . did she leave?”

His eyes narrow. “Andrea? She doesn’t come to the office.” He clears his throat. “Miss Chase, are you all right? You look flustered.”

I nod. Flustered doesn’t begin to describe what I am feeling.

“We have . . . we have a company apartment. Would you rather stay in the city overnight, instead of making the trip back to Jersey? I’ll be honest that I don’t know what the train schedule is, and I’d hate for you to be out alone at this late hour.”

“I . . . my mother,” I stammer, turning off the computer and standing up. My legs are completely inadequate, as they buckle immediately.

“You can call her. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. We do it all the time.”

“Okay,” I say, vaguely aware that I’ll be coming into work in the same clothes, then, tomorrow. But that’s fine. I just want to get away from him. I look around. “Where is it?”

He laughs. “It’s not in the office. It’s just a few blocks uptown. Karl’s downstairs. He’ll drive us.”

Oh, God. Not the limo. Not again. But the only word I can seem to squeak out is, “Okay.”

I throw my stuff in my cubicle, grab my purse, and follow him, like a faithful puppy, down the hall toward the elevator. When we’re inside, he says, “How are you enjoying working with us, Miss Chase?”

I look at the display above the doors, willing the numbers to move faster. “It’s good.”

“I’m sorry things got off to a rocky start for us,” he says.

I force a smile. “It’s fine.”

He must realize from my terse answers that I don’t want to make conversation with him. I can feel the arousal between my legs, the painful friction of my hard nipples against my bra, and all I can do is hope that the flush in my body doesn’t give away those nasty, nasty thoughts. That was my first-ever sexual dream. Why had it been so real? And why had it been about my mother’s boss? As I’m contemplating that, I feel something drop gently around my shoulders. His suit jacket. It smells . . . delicious. Woodsy and manly. Like him. God, I want to wrap it around my face and do nothing but inhale for hours on end.

But I think that would look a little suspicious.

“Goosebumps,” he says, pointing to my arm.

I can’t tell him that they’re not from the chill in the air.

We climb into the limo. The same place I sat when he’d been kissing me that very first night.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this
, I keep thinking, but then the door closes and we’re off. I wait for him to pour a scotch, and offer me a water. He doesn’t, just rubs his face tiredly and leans his head back so he’s looking at the ceiling. “Long day,” he breathes.

I don’t answer. It’s feeling very warm in here. I slip the jacket off my shoulders and slide it over to him.

“Are you okay, Miss Chase?” he asks.

No
. I’m thinking, How can he be okay, knowing what we did here? When he has a fiancé? How can he be so nonchalant about it, act like it never happened, yet tell his best friend that even
more
happened? I’m a bundle of nerves around him, and he barely shows a ripple. I want to ask him, is that what being a mature CEO does to you? Rips the life, the ability to feel, right out of you?

Instead, I say, “I’m fine.”

I take out my phone and text my mom. Caden takes his out, too, and I hear him say, “Sorry, I’m on my way now . . . No. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

He’s talking to Andrea. I don’t have to hear her adorable Southern voice to know that. I wonder what he’s sorry for, and just how he’s going to make it up to her, and then I flash back to my dream and cringe.