Outside, the office has gone quiet, and I think about the hot mess we used to cause in this office. Back when we were younger. When I worried less. I can almost hear a collective sigh of relief from my staff as Ben and I talk in our normal voices—no shouting. No sounds of breakage. I blush slightly at the memory. What on earth were we thinking?
“What are you thinking about?” Ben asks softly, his face smoothing out, becoming less worried, more predatory. More intense.
“Nothing,” I mutter, dropping my eyes, my blush mounting.
He grins wickedly. “You’re thinking about how quiet everything went when I walked in.” He moves closer to me, placing a fingertip underneath my chin, forcing my eyes back up to his.
“And you’re remembering why.” His eyes don’t leave mine for a second, but I brush his hand away, flinching at the memory, ducking to escape those eyes.
“It’s in the past,” I say huskily, but he runs his fingers slowly along the edge of the desk. The edge I’ve clung to so many times, hopeless with desire, my legs buckling beneath me, his hands, his tongue…
“You’re thinking about it,” he whispers, moving behind me, his lips warm and soft against my neck, his hands reaching down and skimming across my hips, the warmth of his breath leaving my lips parted, my breathing shallow. His teeth find my earlobe and tug on it gently. A moan escapes my lips. Everything inside me wants to open my neck up to him, lean back into him, feel his hands wander leisurely across my body, my breasts. As though he has all the time in the world. As though I’m his.
But I pull away, trying to calm my breathing.
His arms fall to his side and I can feel him standing behind me. Sagging a little. No! I think immediately, my body desperate for his touch.
“I miss it, too,” he says, but he keeps his hands off me. Thank God is my next thought, my sensible brain kicking in. Because I don’t think I would have the resolve to move away twice.
Finally he moves to the chair opposite me, his eyes dark with lust, his jeans bulging appreciatively. I avert my eyes.
It’s only been a few weeks, but it might as well have been twenty years, I want him so badly.
“It’s probably going to come out, Ada. Judging by that last letter.” He watches me carefully. “Will it really be that bad?”