Chapter 6

Bonnie

I couldn’t believe Nash Preston’s office. What a load of pretentious poop, I kept repeating to myself. But the truth was that the office was a prime example of tasteful elegance, and I was only kidding myself. Even the gray lace table runner on the coffee table looked like it had been carefully selected to match the interior. All the lamps in the room were in the style of street gaslights. Nash Preston had a good eye for design and decor. I remembered that he had always wanted to be an engineer or an architect. What had happened to that?

I was standing in the middle of an oval room with no actual walls. It was all glass and, as far as I could tell, this space stuck out like a conservatory from the rest of the building so that when I looked out, there was large open empty space with a transcendent view of the San Francisco skyline. Not to forget that we were on the fortieth floor. My heart was racing from just looking out. It felt like I was on some kind of jaw-dropping rollercoaster ride, and we were both going to fall to our deaths within moments.

“Your place looks fancy,” I said, turning to look at him. Nash was standing behind his sturdy desk, with his palms on the top, leaning in like he was on a mission. I tried to not look at his face too much. We were alone and quite close to each other. I didn’t want him to know just how much I wanted him.

“You look fancy,” he said, and his gaze dropped from my face to my breasts to my belly and then to my legs. I knew what he was referring to. He had never seen me in a dress like this before, but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it. What did he know about me? He hadn’t seen me in five years. Things changed. I could have changed.

“You must be very pleased with yourself,” I replied instead.

Nash breathed in heavily, before walking around his desk toward me.

I held my ground, unwilling to let him see the effect he was having on me. Every step he took toward me made me quiver in my shoes. I admit I had fantasized about him even after college. I was jealous of all those women he slept with. I hated him because I wanted him. I admitted all that. I just didn’t want him anywhere close to me. I was so afraid of what I might end up doing.

“It pains me to have to do this, Bonnie. You have to see that,” he said. Before I could move away, he had placed his large hands on my shoulders. He squeezed me gently, almost affectionately, while still holding my gaze. My breath had stopped in my throat. I felt like I was about to explode. What was he trying to do?

“But maybe we can find a way to soften the blow?” he asked and my eyes grew wide. I didn’t want my brain going there. What was he trying to imply? How did he plan on softening this blow? Did he mean he wanted to sleep with me? Did he think he could fix all this with his cock?

I tried to step away from him, but he kept his hands tightly gripped on my shoulders.

“Just hear me out,” he said, holding me back. My heart was thumping wildly against my chest. He smelled of pine, a masculine musky scent that I couldn’t quite place. Was it his aftershave? His clothes? His cologne? Or did Nash Preston just always smell this divine?

“I don’t know what else you could possibly say to me to make this better,” I said, the resolve in my voice weakening. He was holding me; our bodies were just inches apart. I wasn’t going to be able to control myself for very long. It was all going to come crashing down around me.

Nash was smiling. Almost like he felt sorry for me. Like I was some kind of an injured puppy and he was going to be my superhero master. A rush of anxiety mixed with rage took over my limbs and I felt them stiffen under his grip. But he wasn’t about to let me go.

“I want you to come and work for me,” he said, leaning in closer. My breath was jagged; I knew he could tell what I was feeling now. He was doing it on purpose. His lips lightly grazed the side of my cheek. His words weren’t making sense to me. On any other day, in any other place, if he wasn’t touching me; I would have revolted against this suggestion. But not today. I couldn’t find the physical strength to actually push him away, or react to what he had just said.

“What kind of work?” I asked, almost shy now. My skin was hot under his touch, I could feel the wetness between my legs growing. He was so close. I had never been this close to him before. This was like a fantasy come true. I could almost picture those chiseled abs, the narrow naked waist under the clothes he was wearing.

When I looked back up at his face, his gray eyes were trained on my lips. He was pleased with my reaction; a soft smile was lingering on his face.

“We can discuss that later, can’t we?” he said in a whisper again, and this time he purposely drew his lips closer to my cheek. I felt his hot breath on my skin, on my eyelashes. My own breathing was rigid and strong, almost like I was panting. His hands began to slide down from my shoulders, tracing the length of my arms. When he reached my wrists, he held on to them tightly.

My feet were like jelly. I still couldn’t move. I should have stepped away then, saved myself. But I couldn’t.

“I could sure use you,” he said, smiling at me. His eyelids had grown heavy, while his grip on my wrists strengthened. He was pulling me closer to him now, even closer. I felt his hard chest against my breasts as he brought me to him. I gasped, and then tried to suffocate the sound, but he had heard me. The smile on Nash’s face widened.

“For the benefit of my company, of course,” he continued, in that calming deep voice of his. It was like a hypnotizing chant, his voice. I could feel my own eyelids flickering, beginning to droop. I was only seconds away from giving in to him. I could barely even remember where I was. Pressed against Nash Preston, my emotions were chaotic.

Then he let go of one of my wrists, and placed that hand on the small of my back. Pressing me even closer to him, if that was possible. I felt like my lungs would explode; I could hardly breathe anymore. I tried to tell myself that this was some kind of game he was playing, but it was too late now.

I was under his spell.

Our eyes locked. I could see what he was thinking. He wanted me naked. He wanted to taste me. And I wanted to taste him. I wanted to scream and confess how much I had always wanted him. There was no use denying it anymore.

“Your talents shouldn’t be wasted somewhere else. At some other dead-end job,” Nash continued. But I wasn’t really paying attention anymore. None of the things he was saying mattered. I was living my college fantasies of being in Nash Preston’s arms. The next stage of the fantasy involved him ripping my clothes off, pushing me to the floor and fucking me hard. Making me come over and over again, forcing me until I was out of breath and passed out.

What I wasn’t expecting, was for him to kiss me.

He pushed his hand forcibly on the small of my back so that my lips met his with a smack. And then he was kissing me, slowly. Nothing about Nash Preston had ever made me think that he was a slow kisser. But here he was, his lips gently exploring mine, his tongue not yet making a move to find a way into my mouth. I was melting in his arms. This was too good to be true. I had forgotten why I was here, what time it was, I was busy living my fantasy.

His mouth tasted of strong peppermint, and his lips were full and gentle. His hand remained on the small of my waist, and the other one was slowly trailing up my torso. When his fingertips closed on my breast, I gasped again, against his mouth. I wanted him to squeeze it, pinch my nipples, tear off my dress. I was so hot for him. I had waited so long for him. But Nash was taking his time.

His hand only lingered for a few moments on my breast, before it moved up my neck until he was cupping my chin. He was sucking on my lips delicately now, and I felt dizzy. I didn’t think I could breathe anymore. I pressed myself closer to him. I could feel his growing cock under his pants. Right against my thigh. It was right there, so close. I could peel down his pants in seconds.

Nash pulled away from me suddenly, leaving me gasping for air.

“It’s nice to see you again after so many years, Bonnie,” he said, turning from me and walking back to his desk.

What the actual fuck! My mouth was hanging open; I could feel a dull throb on my lips where he had been kissing me for so long. Nice to see me after so many years? Was this some kind of Nash Preston version of greeting all his old college pals? Was this what he intended to do with Nell, too, if he saw her now?

He had returned to his desk and was looming over it, seemingly arranging a pen stand casually.

“Umm… what?” I had finally found my voice, and he looked up at me. His gray eyes were clear, not foggy like my own dazed ones. He had a casual demeanor, as though nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just kissed me. Like he hadn’t just felt my breast.

“I said, it’s nice to see you. I’ve thought about you in the past years, wondering what you were up to,” he added, his face breaking into a friendly smile.

This guy was beyond me. I couldn’t wrap my brains around what was happening. I knew there were goose bumps on my arms, and I tried to hide them by crossing them over my breasts. His gaze dropped for a moment to my cleavage and then he looked up at me again. So, he wasn’t fully made of steel, then.

“I’m glad to hear I crossed your mind, but what just—” I was saying, but he interrupted me.

“I just offered you a job, and maybe you should think about it. Head of the programing team here. Freedom. Money,” he continued, fixing a steady calm gaze on me. I was starting to think I had imagined it all, like none of the kissing or touching had even happened.

“Are you serious?” I asked, narrowing my eyes on him.

“Of course, just sleep on it, will you? You have nothing to lose,” he said, meeting my gaze with nonchalance. Did he think he had won for some reason? Trumped me? As my harsh breathing subsided, I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.