Chapter Sixteen

Now

A full month passes at my job and I love it more and more. The longer I’m there the more people trust me. It isn’t that they didn’t trust me in the beginning; it’s a tight-knit group and they want to make sure I’m not only sticking around, but that I’m responsible and capable before deciding to let me into their inner circle. I understand.

After a couple of weeks some of the girls invite me out for happy hour, and after another week they include me in the gossip chain. You truly know you’re a part of the office staff when they share all the office romance details with you.

Emmy in accounting is pregnant, but she doesn’t want anyone to know yet. She says she’ll be too heartbroken if anything happens and she has to tell everyone she lost the baby.

Jeff in marketing has been diagnosed with cancer and doesn’t want anyone to know because he chose to forgo treatment and doesn’t want everyone to suddenly think they’re doctors and give him advice.

Martha in HR is having an affair with Tina in marketing, but neither of them are out of the closet and both of them are married to men.

There’s so much gossip going on at the proverbial water cooler, and it’s all pretty interesting even if I don’t know very many people at the offices. This is a twenty story building. That’s a lot of people to know. I’m beginning to. I’m also grateful I haven’t taken Kaden up on his offer of an affair. No matter how discreet he might think he is, I guarantee the entire office staff will not only know about it, but will be talking about it within a matter of hours.

Maybe the security crew gives out the information, or maybe there are secret spy cameras hidden around. I’m unsure what it is, but information is indeed getting leaked. I refuse to be a part of that.

Or at least I have good intentions of not getting involved. Sometimes in the heat of the moment, it’s easy to lose your senses and get caught up in the action.

It’s Friday night, and I had no time for a workout this morning. Working out is a great substitute for sex. The last time Mason and I had sex was two weeks ago, but it was brief, and afterward he rolled over and was asleep within seconds. I’m unsatisfied, and a showerhead can only go so far.

Running and weightlifting are my new obsessions. I’m left no choice but to buy new clothes because I’ve developed muscles in my arms and legs, and the waistline I’ve been so critical of is slimming. I feel better than I have since I was a teenager.

When I miss a day I’m frustrated, and my sexual desires seem to soar through the roof. I’m only twenty-nine, so I can’t be going through the nymphomania stage I hear all women go through. I’ve had sex regularly since I was sixteen years old, and now all of the sudden it’s being withheld from me — not intentionally I hope, but still being withheld.

I might actually burst if I don’t do something about it.

Kaden has been gone all week, so it’s safe to make a late night gym visit. We worked late tonight, and it’s six o’clock by the time I get to the gym. That’s fine because the regulars are gone. It’s only me and gym, which means I can hook my iPhone into the speaker system and rock away, not bothering with headphones. Hardly anyone works out on a Friday night. They’re too eager to get to their weekend activities, or go home and throw on a pair of sweats and a ratty T-shirt, whichever suits them.

Thirty minutes of running isn’t enough to burn my energy, so after making sure I’m alone, I throw off my shirt and continued to run in my sports bra and shorts. I’m overheating, but that’s good. I want to barely be able to walk when I leave this building.

My favorite workout mix plays and I sing along — completely off-key — and turn up the speed on the treadmill, setting the incline to five and pushing hard for another ten minutes. By the time I set it to a brisk walk for a cool-down, I’ve worn myself out. I don’t have the energy to lift tonight. My muscles are still sore from Thursday, so I’m not going to be too hard on myself.

After a five minute cool-down, I grab my towel and wipe my brow as I turn off the machine. I wipe my sweat from it, then turn . . . and stop in my tracks.

Kaden’s standing there.

His eyes burn me from where he leans against the door, his face taut. He isn’t supposed to be here. Only the security guards are supposed to be in the building. This is my safe place. This is where I come to unwind, to stop thinking about Kaden, to stop thinking about Mason, to stop thinking about the rest of the world.

I’m exhausted as I step off the machine, but that burn in Kaden’s eyes makes my heart thunder, makes my adrenaline pump through my veins. I want to run to him, wrap my arms around his neck, and press my sweaty body against his.

My breathing, which has just settled down, escapes me in erratic pants as I’m lost in his eyes. He pushes away from the wall and steps toward me with purpose. He’s on a mission, and it’s up to me to stop him. My throat closes. I can’t utter a sound.

“Say something if you don’t want me to kiss you,” he says, his voice low and gravely. He’s barely in control of himself. I don’t know what to do.

He stops in front of me and I finally inhale, his scent of musk and sweat the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelled. I bite my lip as I try to keep from hyperventilating. I want his arms to wrap around me, want him to take the choice from me.

“You are so fucking hot,” he growls. He reaches out, his arm snaking around my back and pulling me against his body.

“I’m sweaty,” I finally say, worried about his expensive custom-made suit.

He raises a brow, his lip turning up the slightest bit, his eyes darkening to almost black slits.

“Hell yes, you are,” he says, his voice so low it travels through me, making my core pulse. He pushes his hips forward, and there’s no mistaking the large bulge pressing against me.

He wants me and he isn’t afraid to show it. I feel sexy and beautiful, even though I have to look an utter wreck. I want him. I don’t care if it’s wrong.

Do I decide to do it or not? One second I’m standing, and the next my arms reach up, wrapping around his neck, just like I’ve pictured myself doing a thousand times.

It’s all the incentive he needs. His mouth crashes down against mine. His kiss is nothing like I imagined it to be. And trust me, I have imagined it so many times I should be ashamed of myself. His lips are firm and demanding, but they’re also incredibly giving. He doesn’t give me a chance to catch my breath as he consumes me, forcing my mouth open, slipping his tongue inside and taking what he wants.

He lifts me from the ground, and I realize we’re moving, as if I’m floating through air. His lips don’t leave mine as he carries me to the men’s locker room then through a door that leads to his office. My fingers tangle in his hair as he deepens the kiss, his hands gripping my hips.

He sits on his plush couch, pulling me onto his lap as he continues ravishing my mouth. I not only let him, but I kiss him back, pressure building inside me to the point I’m about to burst.

His hand slips around my slick body and my stomach trembles beneath his touch. Then his fingers slide over my breast and squeeze. I pull back and cry out as my core pulses and my nipples throb.

Both of us are breathing heavily as I sit on him, his erection pulsing against my core, wanting me to strip away our clothes and allow him to sink deep inside me.

He doesn’t pull me back to him. His eyes are dilated and dark, his breathing uneven, but he sits here, leaving this decision to me. I close my eyes, unable to look at him.

“I can’t do this,” I say, apology in my voice.

He stiffens as he moves his hand back down my body and squeezes my hips. He knows he can convince me to make love to him. We both know it won’t take much to push me over the edge. I want him as much as he wants me.

“You can, but I understand why you won’t,” he says. There’s resignation in his voice.

I want to lean forward, want to rest my head on his shoulder. But if I do, I won’t leave him. I’ll do something I’ll most certainly regret. He lets me go when I tug against his hold. My legs are barely able to hold me up as I take a few steps away from him. I’m afraid they’ll buckle and send me sprawling to the floor. But they hold me. The door from the gym is still open. I move to it.

I don’t turn. “I’m sorry,” I say again.

“I’m right here, Miranda. I’m going to always be right here,” he says, the words coming out as a promise. I can’t turn around and look at him. I’m too afraid of what I’ll do.

“I can’t be with you,” I say. Am I trying to convince him or am I trying to convince myself?

“You will be. I have no doubt,” he says. The confidence that turns me on is back in his voice. I’m too afraid he’s right to argue with him.

Instead I slip away like the coward I am.

I quickly throw my sweats and sweatshirt on and leave the building, deciding to take the stairs. I’ve punished my legs enough, but I’m afraid to try the elevator. If I run into Kaden again, I don’t think I’ll have the strength to keep saying no. After a three-day weekend I’ll be stronger. But tonight I certainly am not strong enough.

I don’t see him as I leave, and luckily I don’t have to wait long for the bus. On the ride home I’m consumed with guilt. I cheated on my husband. It may have stopped with a kiss, but that’s cheating. It doesn’t matter that Mason hasn’t been kissing me, making love to me, giving me any attention. I still cheated.

I should go home and tell my husband it’s over, things aren’t working out between us. But as I get off the bus and walk to my house, I decide not to do that. I don’t know why.

I’m glad he’s nowhere to be found. I can’t face him after what I’ve done. I don’t try to call him. And I don’t wonder where he is. I go straight into the bathroom and shower for a very long time.

I don’t sleep much that night . . . and my husband never joins me.