CHAPTER FIVE
Jacine
His kiss is vaguely minty, whiskey and fire, and the heat in my core goes from a simmer to a full boil. I’m going to stop this. I really am, because this is highly unprofessional. But when one of the men that smiled at you from a band poster in your bedroom during your formative teen years kisses you, you do not say no. Or want to.
Cole’s hands light on my hips and I shiver, especially when he presses his steely length into me. God, he wants me, and urgently, and it has been a very long time since I kissed a man let alone have sex with anyone. This was too good, like ice cream and champagne served at the same time. The ice cream is a forbidden treat, sweet, rich and full, and his lips are a treat, questing and passionate, drawing from me desires that I shoved into oblivion in the briefcase of my soul.
His tongue presses against my lips and his fingers move around my waist to the place that sends sparks up my spine, and I open my mouth to take more of him. And like champagne, his kiss goes to my head, and I’m not thinking about business, or my father, or the utter idiocy of what I am doing.
He moans a little, a low guttural sound that reverberates through me like the notes of a fine guitar. Every touch of his hands finds a new place to set ablaze, and I’m burning like wildfire.
One hand leaves my waist, and because I’m insensible with lust, do not realize that his hand pulls up the hem of my dress and his fingers find my bud until his has done the deed. With touch too gentle for a man that pounds out rhythms on steel strings, his calloused fingertips make me climb past mere longing, or want, or the curious stirring in my belly that tells me I need this.
My breathing speeds and he murmurs in my ear about how wet I am and that he has what I need. His light fingering builds my desire along with the pressure he applies to my most tenders places, wet and aching, and my hips jut to meet his moves. My cream floods his hand, and he murmurs appreciatively while I am aware of his brand rubbing against my thigh, hot and thick, and I think with the non-thinking part of my brain that I need that inside me.
His fingers found my slick folds, and two fingers explored my g-spot while his thumb worked my nub. Cole is in me and around me, and my gut curls with my impending orgasm.
A sharp rap on my door brought me to my senses, and I pushed Cole back hard, too hard, because he fell onto the leather sofa with a surprised look on his face. As the door opened, I smoothed down my skirt, and Cole licked his finger shamelessly while keeping his gaze on me. He put his hand down though when the door opened to reveal Tobias in the doorframe. He looked at me, then Cole and cloud shaded his eyes.
My face flushed, it burns a brighter red as if I'm a teenager caught in a sex act by her father.
“I forgot my briefcase,” said Tobias.
My eyes roamed the room until I spotted it by the sofa. “There,” I said pointing to it.
“Everything, okay?” he asked scrunching his eyes again at Cole.
“Fine. Mr. Kane and I were discussing new business managers.”
“Great,” he said. “I have a few names. Walk with me, Kane, and I’ll give you info on them.”
“I guess that’s my cue,” said Cole as he stood. He turned his back deliberately away from Tobias and gave me a smirk. “If I have any questions about the material you send over, can I call you?”
Yes. Yes. Yes. My heart pittered, then pattered.
“If you need to, Mr. Kane,” I said coolly.
“Great,” he said just as calmly. I tried to keep my eyes from his crotch but failed miserably, but didn’t see evidence of the raging erection that moments ago rubbed against my thigh. He flung his jacket over his arm though. “I’ll talk with you later, Miss Alexander.”
He shot a smoldering glance over his shoulder, then straightened and talked casually with Tobias as if nothing untoward happened here in this office, my father’s place of business. As he left, I resisted the urge to squirm. I was on the brink of something I hadn’t had for a long time. In our own way, us ladies can get “blue balls” too.
I didn’t know if I wanted to murder or fuck Cole Kane.
But I stalked forward and locked my door. I couldn’t go through the day like this. I lay on the sofa and pulled up my skirt and touched the places that Cole’s hands roamed moments before. It wasn’t hard to get in the fantasy that it was Cole fingering me, making me soar. His musky scent was still in my nose, and the taste of his mouth lingered on mine, and it didn’t take long before I broke apart, stifling the urge to scream his name.
It wasn’t the same as him doing it, but it took the edge off my need, one that I shouldn’t have had in the first place.
I told Nadine to hold my calls while I went over the material the team put together for the Battle of the Bands. My email, in fact, had all of it. Some enterprising intern put each step in a dated spreadsheet, with links to the appropriate work. It was all very thorough which is why we paid people very well here. By the time I was ready to take a break, I had an excellent idea of how the project moved along. The venue was secured, the promos designed and the talk shows booked.
By now I had convinced myself that my indiscretion with Cole Kane was a moment of foolishness that I would not repeat.
I looked at my phone and saw it was past noon. With a guilty conscience, I remembered my father alone in the hospital. I should check up on him, and I called Anson to bring the car around. In the ten minutes it would take for Anson to bring the limo to the front, I called the project head, Susan Carter, a woman just a little older than myself who was way-too-smart for anyone’s good. If I weren’t the boss’s daughter, I’d worry for my job.
“I’m on my way to see my father.”
“Of course, Jacine. He should come first. Tell him we are all thinking about him."
“I will. What venue did we book?”
“We got the Hollywood Bowl,” she said enthusiastically.
“Really?” It’s hard to impress me, but I’m calculating the bonus the woman should get for such a brilliant move. The Bowl was booked a year in advance, at least. “But how did we score that?”
“We may have promised them half the profit of the gig.”
I restrained a groan, but then we weren’t in it for the money anyway. Well, not the concert money. Our percentage of the entire deal would be big enough. I’m running numbers in my head.
“Tell me you promised them net, not gross.”
“Yes, Jacine. Net. All the way.”
“Good.” Then we wouldn’t get suckered into paying the costs while the Bowl sopped up the greater part of the profits. “And how did we get so lucky?”
“They had a hole in their slot because a band’s singer had to go to rehab.”
“Wait. When is this miracle date?”
“Three weeks from today.”
I gnashed my teeth into my lip. That was an impossibly tight schedule.
“Don’t worry,” said Susan. “I have the team working double time. Mock promo materials are hitting the printers as we speak for your approval.”
“Okay, send me the images on my phone, and I’ll look at them.”
“You got it.”
“And the talk shows?”
“That’s the best part. Because of everything that happened last night they can’t wait to get the boys on. I’ve got a slot on The Nyberg Show for tomorrow night. They want all three of them, though.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried calling, but Nadine wouldn’t let me through. So I sent an email.”
“Okay,” I said. My mind spun into gear with my best pitches to get the Terrible Trio to man up and cooperate. “I’ll get them there. What time is taping?”
“4 PM and they want them there at two for make-up.”
“Got it.”
As I slung my bag over my shoulder, I walked into the outer office. A beautiful vase of white roses sitting on the corner of Nadine’s desk caught my eye.
“Secret admirer?” I said.
“They aren’t mine. They are yours.”
“What?”
I pulled the card from the bouquet and found only one word inside.
Ever it said.
I swallowed hard. Cole must have sent them. What the hell was I going to do now?