Okay, so now he wanted to draw a line?
But if looks could talk, his said “I’m not a piece of meat. Stop staring at me like that.” To which I replied, “Yeah, you are. And no, I won’t.”
When it was my and Mike’s turn to present our recommendation for the new tween line of makeup, Max’s sharp hazel eyes stuck to my face, creating even more of a distraction. To the world, he was merely paying attention. To me, he was showing me how much he really wanted me.
In summary, we both failed the “keeping work and personal life” separate. And for anyone who thought that I’d been an ass to even attempt such a feat, I’ll simply say…
Yep!
Sure, there were plenty of examples of spouses or couples being coworkers, but this situation was wholly different, excluding the fact that he was my boss and ran the company. The truth was, we’d both been starving for this—whatever “this” was—and now that we had it, it felt like a drug.
After the monthly meeting, I left as quickly as I could, feeling an overwhelming panic wash over me. Nothing about this situation felt right, but everything about it felt good. I couldn’t control myself.
“Lily?” There was a light knock on the doorjamb of my open office door.
Mike’s blue, blue eyes and charming smile glowed in my direction.
“Mike, hi. How was your weekend?”
“Great.” He approached with all the confidence in the world and partially sat on my desk. “Nursed a nasty hangover on Saturday and got in a few rounds of golf on Sunday. What about you?”
“Same.” Why had I said that?
“You didn’t seem drunk.”
“After. I got drunk when I got home.” No, that didn’t sound trashy at all. It was also a complete lie. What’s the matter with me?
“Oh. And how was golf? I didn’t know you played.”
“Did I say golf? I meant shopping. Same thing.” I’m an idiot. Need sleep.
He raised his brows. “I suppose both involve a lot of walking.”
“Exactly.”
“So,” he bobbed his head, “I was wondering if you were free tonight? I know Monday isn’t a typical dinner-date night, but—”
“Mike,” said a serious voice from just outside the doorway, “would you mind giving Miss Snow and me a moment?”
Mike looked at Max in his black power suit with his hazel eyes throwing off some serious angry tones.
“Yeah, sure, Mr. Cole,” Mike said uncomfortably and then looked straight at me. “Let me know what you think.”
“Lily is busy tonight, I’m afraid,” Mr. Cole said. “She’s behind on a special project.”
I pasted on a polite smile, trying not to stampede Max with my womanly self-righteousness. “He’s right, Mike. I can’t tonight. But I’ll check my calendar.”
Mike left, obviously sensing something was off.
Max shut the door behind him. “You’ll check your calendar?”
I gave him a look. “What did you expect me to say? Let me check with Mr. Cole’s cock, and I’ll let you know?”
“Would’ve worked for me,” he said in a pissy tone.
I tilted my head. “You can’t seriously be jealous.”
He leaned over my desk. “Of course I can be, Lily. You’re mine. And I don’t like other men looking at what’s mine.”
I’d never experienced this feeling before—a guy getting territorial over me. Part of me really liked it. The other part didn’t. “But I’m not really yours. Not as far as everyone else is concerned, which leads me to the point—”
“We’re leaving for a few days. I’ll have my driver, Callahan, take you home to pack the appropriate attire.”
I blinked at him. “Sorry?”
“I can’t focus on work. Not knowing you’re here, suffering and in need of a good fucking.”
My jaw dropped. “Well—okay…that’s ta-ta-true, but I really have stuff to do.”
“And it can wait for two days.”
“It can’t,” I argued, feeling like he was the bad boy trying to convince me to skip class. “People are depending on me.”
“I need this, Lily. And I think you do as well.” He paused for a long moment. “What if I ask your boss for permission?”
I folded my hands neatly on top of my desk. “Max—”
“Liiily?” he warned.
“Max?”
“Liiily?”
I grunted at him and then smiled. I couldn’t help it. He was too sexy to deny.
He folded his arms over his broad chest, flashing a bit of shiny silver cuff link. “If I can blow off a few days of work for you, and it’s my company, I’m sure you can accommodate.”
I sighed. He totally won me over. “Fine. Where are we going?”
“I have a little house in Kauai. It’s very private.”
That sinful, mischievous look in his eyes did me in. The thought of the things he would do to me…
“All right.”
“Good. I’ll have Keri reschedule your meetings to next week. Callahan is waiting in the lobby.”
“You knew I’d say yes?” I asked.
“I can sell ice to an Eskimo, remember?”
Yes, I did. He’d “sold me” on doing all sorts of things last night, and I’d loved every minute of it.
“I’ll go pack,” I said.
He leaned toward me for a quick kiss. “Bring your running shoes, Miss Snow.”
“A marathon, I hope?”
“Absolutely,” he replied.
But why did I feel like we were really running away?
~~~
His “little house” in Kauai was a two-story, modern glass rectangle on stilts with a private beach, views of the ocean from almost every room, and thick jungle on all three sides. Automatic blinds and tinted windows provided privacy when wanted. Otherwise, I felt like we were outside, enjoying the breathtaking, natural surroundings. But with air-conditioning.
That first night—Monday—we arrived just before midnight in his private jet, and we swam naked in the ocean, kissing and touching and grinding away in the warm water, feeling like the only two people on earth. We concluded under the dark moonless sky with sex on the beach. No, not the drink. Real sex. In the soft warm, night sand. Aside from the piles of grit left in my hair, it was fucking raw and sexual in a way I couldn’t have imagined.
After we showered, ate sandwiches, and covered ourselves in bug spray, we headed back outside (clothed in shorts and tees) to sit around a gas fireplace on the patio, where we fell asleep in each other’s arms on a lounge chair.
The sunrise that next morning, snuggled in his arms, was more beautiful than anything I could dream up. I kept thinking that it was too perfect. This couldn’t be real. Him, me, us. We were too happy and too ready to let go of everything that had ever mattered to us for a few precious days of living in this dream.
Yet, knowing it couldn’t last, I convinced myself we had to take this chance. We weren’t simply in paradise, snorkeling in the crystal clear blue waters, stealing kisses every chance we got, or enjoying the isolation, we were hiding in heaven.
Tuesday night, as I sat staring at the fire outside, slathered in a thick coating of mosquito repellent, still wearing my white bikini from our early swim in the ocean that seemed too beautiful to be a real place on earth, I felt reality seeping through the cracks, its darkness creeping into our safe haven and threatening to poison our paradise.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, handing me a chilled glass of white wine. He wore a white shirt and white linen shorts that made his skin look even darker than it was. That man knew how to tan. I looked more like a strawberry milkshake.