CHAPTER ELEVEN
BLAKE
“Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.”
- William Shakespeare
CJ avoided me for two days after the kiss.
And let’s just be real here. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was the kiss that made all other kisses look pathetic.
It was perfect and amazing and just…wrong.
I had been nothing but myself around CJ. Even though his mom had asked me to get under his skin, I hadn’t done anything I wouldn’t do normally. But his mom’s involvement added a layer of guilt over my good-natured fun. I wondered if he put up with me only because he had to out of loyalty to his mom. It shouldn’t matter, really. My initial goal was to get a friend out of the situation. Friends are a lot less complicated. And friends didn’t kiss each other like the world is about to end and they were making the most out of their last few precious seconds on earth.
Until he kissed me, I truly didn’t know if he even liked me. As a person, not sexually. I was almost positive he couldn’t stand me. Yeah, I noticed a little sexual attraction, but I wasn’t naive enough to think that could be the product of anything other than a basic physical reaction. You could hate a person yet still find them attractive. In fact, hot hate sex was pretty awesome.
I didn’t want hot hate sex with CJ, though. From the day we met, I could see how much he was holding back. Not from me, from everyone. He wasn’t the first person I attempted to ‘fix’, but he was the first person I found myself truly and personally invested in. His happiness mattered to me, even if that made no sense at all. I barely knew the guy, so I know it sounds crazy that I already felt so attached to him, especially since he had only ever acted annoyed when I was around. But the heart wants what the heart wants, right?
My heart being involved made me grateful CJ broke the kiss. I’d been so deep into the moment, it took . It meant something to me, but I had no idea what it meant to him. I wasn’t the type of person to sacrifice myself and accept only being half-happy because I was settling for pieces of someone. If I was willing to only give half of myself, that was one thing. But even though I couldn’t explain why, I knew already that I didn’t want just half of CJ. Not until I understood him better and knew the reason I felt so drawn to him would I consider sleeping with him. I could do casual sex, but sex with CJ? That would be anything but casual. And not just because he was my boss. He just…mattered.
Which was why even though I knew it was probably a good thing CJ was avoiding me…again…it still frustrated me. How was I supposed to get through to him if he was always hiding?
The result was me being in a bad mood. Something that didn’t happen often and generally not in public. However, I was giving myself a pass. I finally - finally - had a desk. It took a pan of brownies, a box of donuts and Starbucks coffee to bribe two of the guys to help me assemble my desk. Pretty sure the jerks would have still done it if I’d have laid on the guilt, but I was trying to make friends, not enemies. Plus, anything I could do to keep the guys on my side of the war with CJ (which he still didn’t know was happening) the better.
The first part of the war was setting CJ up on social media. The second part was placing my brand spanking new desk, courtesy of Jade Securities (another thing CJ didn’t know about) right in front of the boss man’s office. It took up half the hallway and was completely in the way, but since the guys were in on what I was doing, they didn’t mind having to go around me. Boss-man on the other hand would most likely lose his crap when he saw I’d set up in the most ridiculous place to put a desk ever.
The downfall to having a desk was having to learn to tackle the phone system. Never in my entire life had I ever felt so stupid. It was a damn phone. It should not have been so complicated. But there was like, a thousand buttons and most of them weren’t labeled. Even the ones that told you what they were for didn’t work without secret cheat codes. For example, you couldn’t simply hit ‘transfer’ and then someone’s line to send the call to their phone. No, that would be too easy. Instead there was a sequence of buttons that needed to be pushed to accomplish said goal, none of which I knew.
It didn’t help that all the guys found it so hysterical that they refused to teach me how to use it. And they kept calling my extension constantly just to annoy the piss out of me. Though I wasn’t blaming it all on the lack of training. I was convinced my phone in particular had become self-aware and was plotting my demise. No matter what I did, the damn phone wouldn’t do what it was supposed to.
CJ finally made an appearance. The timing wasn’t great, since I was trying to murder my evil desk phone. Destruction of company property was the last thing on my mind when I yanked the cord out of the wall, banged the receiver on my desk a few hundred times and then proceeded to throw the base of the phone onto the floor where I beat it to death with my stapler.
By the time I finished, the phone was in pieces and the guys were unabashedly staring at me with mixed emotions of humor and horror. When I sat up, my chest heaving harshly as I looked around with crazy eyes, everyone scattered like little bugs. Except for CJ. He stood there with his cell phone out, turned sideways while he smiled at his screen.
“What are you doing?”
Oops. That came out a little more annoyed sounding than it was supposed to.
“Uploading this on Facebook,” he explained casually. So casually, in fact, that it took me a second to realize exactly what he’d said.
“You’re doing what?” I asked, chasing after him. I hesitated a little, somewhat wary to revisit the scene of the crime, aka The Kiss, but when he took a seat behind his desk I figured it was pretty safe to enter. “You don’t have Facebook.”
One of CJ’s eyebrows quirked up. “Don’t I?”
My head fell back and I growled. “I am going to kill Liam.”
“I never agreed to keep it a secret!” Liam, now deemed The Little Shit, yelled from somewhere nearby.
“Secrecy was implied, jerkwad!”
“Sticks and stones, Blakey-poo!”
Our teasing was in jest, but I was still pissed he ratted me out so soon. I had big plans for those social media accounts, and he just thwarted them. But then I looked back at CJ and found him laughing. A small laugh, mostly under his breath, but it was enough. My heart did that stupid pitter-patter thing that happens when your seventh-grade crush finally notices you for the first time after months spent pining after him.
Instead of fist-pumping the air in victory, because I’d achieved the unachievable - getting CJ to participate in social media - I narrowed my eyes and tried like hell to keep from smiling.
“Game. On.”
CJ laughed louder as I walked away. And even though I was already plotting ways to torture him, there was no denying the smile that was taking up permanent residence where CJ was concerned.
-
The next day I made sure to beat CJ to the office. I wasn’t even discreet about it. My phone was aimed at him and already recording when he walked through his office door. He looked at me funny when I smiled brightly, and I could tell he was starting to sense something was off. A few seconds later, he sat down in his chair and immediately tipped backwards, his legs sticking straight up into the air. Watching him struggle to get off the floor was almost as funny as the fall itself. I took off running once he got to his feet.
I didn’t think he’d come after me, but I wasn’t risking it, so instead of hiding behind my desk I ran straight to the break room. It was a good thing, too, because he did chase me. He tried to snag my phone out of my hands to stop the video from uploading, but I curled myself into a ball, completely blocking him from being able to reach my hands. His long arms wrapped around me from behind, and of course my mind went to incredibly dirty places. And he gave me dirty, but in the most annoying way possible. Instead of bending me over the counter and doing unspeakable things to me, he played the dirtiest trick in the book.
Tickling.
His hands wrapped around me from behind. Then the bastard used one hand to tickle my sides while the other grabbed for my phone. I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. I could feel CJ laughing since his chest was pressed up against my back, but the sound was drowned out by my squealing. Someone clearing their throat froze us both in place. It occurred to me just then how unprofessional we were being. We. As in CJ not only was goofing off, but he was doing it at work. I was officially the Olympic Gold Medalist at getting people to slack off and be ridiculous.
The throat clearing had come from Momma Rose.
“He started it!” I yelled, yanking out of his hold and ducking to hide behind his mom.
“Coward,” he muttered as he stalked past his mom and walked away.
Once he was out of earshot, I stepped away from Rose and tried to catch my breath. “I might need you to spend the day just hanging out with me. You make a great bodyguard.”
Rose was quiet behind me as I reached into the fridge and snagged a bottle of water. When I turned around, she was looking at me funny. My nose scrunched up, but she didn’t explain. I waited for her to bring up our ‘arrangement’. The one where I continue to poke at CJ and she continues to give me job security by abusing her use of what I like to call “Mom Guilt”. You know, that special way that moms have about them that can make a kid feel bad, apologize and immediately start doing things to get back into her good graces. My mom was a big fan of Mom Guilt and I could tell Rose was the same way.
But she didn’t say anything. She just smiled wistfully and walked out.
Well, that was weird.
I stopped off at the bathroom before going back to my desk. Partly to check how I looked after that damn tickle fight, but mostly to give myself a second to recompose. This playful side of CJ was going to be my undoing. He was all parts sexy when he was doing his brooding and stoic routine but the smiling, laughing, teasing side of him was getting to me. I’d always felt a sense of humor on a man was attractive, and CJ being so serious and difficult had made it easier (fractionally) to keep my attraction to him restricted to physical only. But the more he loosened up and let himself relax, the harder I started to fall. It made me wonder which was the real him. If he forced himself to be quiet and distant, or if the lightheartedness was a glitch that would repair itself soon.
It kinda broke my heart to think of CJ going back to his non-smiling self. A man as good as CJ deserved happiness. Though I had a feeling he wouldn’t agree. Depriving himself of said happiness almost seemed like a way of protecting himself. Or punishment. Maybe a little of both.
When I finally dared to approach my desk, I frowned when I found CJ’s door closed. Not really sure what I was expecting from him, though based on my disappointment, I’d venture a guess that I was hoping to continue our tickle fight.
“Heads up,” Malcom muttered under his breath as he walked-slash-sprinted past my desk. He was out of sight within seconds, so he didn’t get to see the what the hell face I was making at him.
“I need to speak with Christopher,” a prim and snotty as hell voice said, pulling my attention away from the spot where Malcom had seemingly morphed into a cloud of dust.
I took a second to take in the woman before me. She was stupidly gorgeous. Like, seriously flawless. Her dark hair was pin straight, glossy and long enough to reach past the middle of her back. She had a perfect hourglass figure that made me want to hate her immediately. All curves but still thin. Bitch.
She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. The sleeveless off-white dress that stopped just above her knees made her look sophisticated and even a little angelic, but her pretty face was all twisted up with an ugly scowl. Pity that the beautiful ones always seemed to have the ugliest personalities. The one before me was probably their evil queen.
“Are you deaf? I said I need to speak with Christopher.”
“Errmmm, Christopher?”
Way to show how eloquent and educated you are, dumbass.
Prissy Von Pussface rolled her eyes at me. “No wonder I haven’t been able to reach him. His secretary,” she said like it was a dirty word, “is mentally disabled.” She bent her knees slightly then started speaking in loud, slow syllables. “Me. Need. To. Talk. To. Your. Boss.” Bitch even used little hand movements. In case I didn’t hear her shouting five inches in front of me.
Somewhere in my head I knew that I was at work. That a professional would handle the situation with a placid smile and fake politeness. But the problem with that, you see, is that I was no professional. I grew up in the south, and not the part where southern belles and polite social etiquette was practiced. I grew up in the deep south, the part that doesn’t tolerate ignorant assholes talking to you like you were a dumb, backwater hick.
So instead of responding like I was at my place of employment, I responded the only way that came naturally to me. Even thickened my drawl for emphasis.
“Well, shoot, darlin’. Why didn’t ya just say so? Just sit down in one of them seats right o’er there and I’ll mosey on into the boss man’s office and tell him he’s got a guest waitin’ to see him.”
Prissy looked appalled, then nervous - like I might pull out a shotgun and mistake her duckface as her being an actual duck during hunting season - and she slowly walked to the set of chairs near the entrance. She eyed me warily. I winked and tipped an imaginary hat at her before knocking on CJ’s door. Immediately it flew open and a hand grabbed my wrist tight enough that I’d probably have a bruise in the morning, then yanked me inside.
“Hi-yah!” I yelled, karate chopping CJ’s arm.
“Dammit!” He whined, rubbing his forearm even though there was no way I’d actually hurt him. Big baby. His forearm was harder than steel.
“Well, you scared me! I reacted!” It was only half a lie. He did startle me, but it’s not like I didn’t know who had grabbed me. Even if it hadn’t been his office door I was knocking on, his cologne or whatever it was that made him smell so amazing had become permanently ingrained in my memory. Men seriously underestimate how much of a turn on it is when they smell good. CJ’s scent was uniquely masculine. One sniff of him and my panties were wet. Sad? Pathetic? Flat out wrong? Yes. But I couldn’t control it. It was a primal reaction, completely out of my control.
“Make her leave!” He whisper-yelled.
Man looked straight-up scared. Six-foot-four, giant muscles, war hero and all around badass was scared of a prickly snot that he could snap in half like a twig.
His wide eyes were practically begging me to help him. What else could I do but fall over myself laughing?
“Will you shut up and figure out how to get rid of her? I can’t deal with her today and if she comes in here, I’ll wind up being a giant dick.”
When I laughed harder, he pulled me up and wrapped his arm around my head, covering my mouth with his hand. Which he promptly removed. “Ew, did you just lick me?”
I shrugged. “Don’t put your hand on my mouth. And I’ll get rid of her for you on one condition.”
For the first time since he dragged me into his office, he didn’t look scared. He got that annoyed, untrusting look about him that so often took over his face when I was in the general vicinity.
“You have to tell me who she is and why you’re being such a pansy about talking to her yourself.”
He didn’t say anything, so what else could I do but just fill in the blanks myself?
“Ugh, is she some kind of ex-lover scorned? Do your hookups go all Fatal Attraction on you, or something? Coz I gotta tell you, dealing with crazy exes is not part of my job description. And as far as crazies go, you definitely picked a doozy with that one.”
I mentally patted myself on the back for sounding only disgusted and not at all jealous. And I was totally jealous. Not just a little. I was like, murderously jealous. It was an odd sensation. I’d never felt jealousy over a guy, even serious boyfriends. A gorgeous woman could flirt with them right in front of my face and I would shrug it off like no big deal. But just the idea of CJ with another woman? My cat claws were showing.
CJ’s frantic eyes and frown slowly morphed into something dangerous. Knowing. Apparently I hadn’t kept the jealousy out of my voice as much as I’d thought.
“That bother you?”
“Hmm?” I hummed, trying my best to avoid looking at his shit-eating grin.
“You’re jealous.”
“Pssshaw. Me? Jealous? That’s just…nuts.”
Too much, Myers. You’re laying it on too thick. Dial it back.
“You’re lying.”
CJ took a step towards me. I took one backwards. We did this until he had me backed up against the wall.
“Ask me,” he demanded, closing the distance between us even more. I pretended to be confused while my eyes darted around, looking for an escape. “Ask me,” he ordered again. “Ask me if I’ve slept with her.”
I shook my head no, but my stupid mouth wasn’t following orders. My voice was quiet, hesitant. “D-did you sleep w-with her?”
Shitdamnfrack. He had me stuttering? I didn’t stutter. Or I didn’t used to, anyway.
“I haven’t. And do you want to know why?”
This time when I shook my head no, I meant it. But then he took one last step, putting us toe-to-toe. I was wearing heels, but the added three inches only put me eye-level with his chest. Which I remained focused on. Looking at him? It just wasn’t an option at the moment.
“I don’t sleep with women I know. Women I might run into again. I don’t bother remembering their names or getting their phone numbers.”
Uhhh. Was this his idea of dirty talk? Because the tension in the room was hella hot, but he just killed my ladyboner by acting like the world’s most giant douche.
His fingers lightly gripped my chin, tilting my face upwards. When I tried to jerk my head back to look away, his hand moved to my neck to hold my head in place. Despite the slight revulsion his words just a second ago shot through me, I stupidly found myself shuddering from the touch of his hand.
“Do you know why I do that? Why I keep myself so detached from the women I take to my bed?”
“Because you’re an asshole?”
CJ smirked. “I’m sure that’s partly true, but it’s not the main reason.”
“Which is?” I drawled with irritation. He obviously wasn’t going to let me leave until he’d said all the douchey things imaginable, so at that point I just wanted him to get it over with.
“Because I can’t do complicated. I’m not good for any woman, so I don’t make promises I can’t keep. The women who come to my bed know what they’re getting and they’re okay with it. They get my body and all the physical pleasure I can give them for one night, and that’s all. I have nothing else to offer.”
The strain in his voice lessened the blow of his words, but the impact on my heart was still harsh. He wasn’t bragging like some womanizing asswad. He was confessing something painful to him. His hand slid from my neck to my cheek, his fingers in my hair and I couldn’t help but lean into his touch.
All thoughts of the bitchy woman waiting outside for him dissipated. Everything outside of CJ and his calloused skin lightly cupping my face faded away. The shutters were down and I was getting a glimpse at the real CJ. As far as rare sightings go, this was comparable to spotting a beautiful unicorn up close only to find it with a broken leg and tear-filled eyes.
I understood then, the unspoken warning to be read between the lines. He wanted me, but he didn’t want to want me. Because that meant complicating things in just about every way possible. My very existence complicated his life. Giving in to the sexual tension between us would likely wind up with a messy explosion in the end. He was asking me to be the strong one. To pull back, tell him no, put a halt to whatever it was that continued growing between us daily.
But by asking me to walk away, he had no idea that he’d just made it impossible. So I responded the only way I could.
I leaned up on my toes and lightly pressed my lips to his, then pulled back just slightly and waited.