Caught Up in Us (13 page)

“God yes. I’d cup them in my hands
and lick them, and I’d run my tongue from between your breasts down
to your jeans, and at that point you’d be unzipping
them.”

“I already have.”

“Are your pants off?”

I skimmed off my jeans, pushing
them to the foot of my bed. “Yes.”

“Is your shirt off
too?”

“No.”

“Take it off.”

I put the phone on the bedcover
and pulled off my tank top. Then I pressed the phone to my ear.
“I’m back.”

“And are you just in your
underwear now?”

“Yes.”

“Touch yourself, Kat.”

I did as instructed.

“Are you wet?”

“Understatement of the
year.”

He laughed lightly. “Good. Because
if I were there right now, I’d be the one touching you, feeling how
turned on you are. Running my hand between your legs, and you’d be
moaning, and moving your hips, and wanting so badly for me to take
off your underwear.”

“Would you? Take off my
underwear?” The question came out in quick breaths, as I followed
his direction. My hand was between my legs, and I wished he were
the one touching me. But this — this was good enough for
now.

“I’d kiss you through your
underwear first just to tease you and make you crazy. I’d lean
down, and I’d kiss those black bikini briefs, and I’d smell you,
and I’d get even harder.”

“I’d want to touch you so
badly.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t let you.
Because I’d have to taste you, and you’d be begging me to take off
your underwear, and to touch you with my tongue. And it’s all I’d
want to do too. So I’d oblige your request.”

I slid out of the last shred of
clothing.

“Did you just take off your
underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Is your hand between your
legs?”

“Yes.”

“Are you imagining it’s
me?”

“Yes. I want you so
much.”

“There is absolutely nothing in
the entire world I want to be doing more right now than going down
on you, and tasting you, and eating you. I would run my tongue
across you and you would put your hands in my hair.”

“I love your
hair,” I said, and the image of my hands in his hair sent me
soaring. It wasn’t going to take me long at all.

“And I’d start off slow and light,
and I’d tease you with my tongue, tracing you and tasting your
wetness. God, I bet you taste fucking fantastic. And you’d whimper
and moan, and tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels amazing. It feels so
incredible.” My whole body was lit up; I was ignited all over.
Every part of me begged and yearned for him.

“And I’d speed up, running my
tongue over you in ways you’ve never felt before. And you’d tell me
how it had never been this good, how you’d never wanted anyone like
this before.”

“I haven’t. I swear I haven’t,” I
said, and my breathing was ragged, and my body was pulsing, and I
could feel how intoxicatingly close I was to grabbing his hair and
pulling his face between my legs. Oh, how I wished he were the one
touching me.

“And I’d take you there. I’d lick
you and make you crazy and make you say my name over and over,
until you were begging to come. Until you were begging me to make
you come.”

“Oh god, Bryan. Make me come.
Please, make me come.”

“I’m so going to make you come,
Kat. I’m going to make you come with my mouth and my lips and my
tongue and I am going to taste you right now as you come in my
mouth.”

And so I did, shouting his name,
calling out, feeling the wave of an intense, otherworldy orgasm
pound through me. I was a live wire, exposed and beating, and I
wanted him to be with me right now, taking off his clothes,
climbing on top of me, entering me, making me feel that way again
and again and again.

Chapter Thirteen

Over the next month, Bryan was
true to his cautious word in the movie theater. Wilco attacked Made
Here and Bryan’s board with spurious claims, so Bryan didn’t leave
a shred of evidence electronically about us. We didn’t email, we
didn’t text, we didn’t leave any paper trails. Nor was there any
evidence that could have been captured photographically because we
hadn’t touched each other.

We had, however, engaged in many
delicious encounters. We’d had sex in a limo, on the beach, in the
stall of one of those sleek silver and black bathrooms at clubs
after we’d danced pressed against each other to pounding music.
We’d done it in a hotel room, in the shower, on an airplane. I’d
been on my hands and knees for him, I’d ridden him, I’d taken him
in my mouth.

Even though I hadn’t.

We were make-believe lovers, and
we’d gone there in our fantasies, in our late-night conversations
with phones pressed to ears turned red and throbbing. With
breathless words, and longing, and so many sighs and moans. I knew
now what Bryan sounded like when he came. I knew the way his
breathing intensified, the way he said my name. I knew when he was
close, and I craved so much to have my hands on him, body pressed
to his, legs wrapped around him.

He knew too exactly how I liked
it. How sometimes I wanted to be taken, pinned down by my wrists,
spread, powerless, and filled up. How other times I wanted to be in
charge, to set the rules, to tell him what to do, when and
how.

When I saw him at his office for
the mentor-protege time, we pretended we were good boys and girls
who hadn’t said those things. One afternoon, I joined him and his
team for an operational meeting in the conference room to discuss
the supply chain plans for the upcoming quarter, and I practiced
the fine art of restraint as I kept my gaze on my notes the whole
time. Only once, did I meet his eyes, and when I did I saw as much
desire in his as I felt. But the specter of his conservative board
as well as the lawsuit hung over us, so I shelved all my dirty
ideas, especially since we had an appointment at Professor Oliver’s
office that same day for a mid-term check-in.

He pulled three chairs into a
circle, and Bryan and I sat next to each other, inches apart, eyes
on Oliver the whole time.

“Ms. Harper, tell me about the
business challenges that you’ve weighed in on at Made
Here.”

“I’ve been able
to devise solutions for some of the supply chain complications that
have arisen, from new timeframes to replacement suppliers,” I said,
and then shared more of the details of the projects we’d worked
on.

Bryan jumped in. “I can’t
underestimate the value of this input, Professor. For instance, Ms.
Harper’s swift and well-researched recommendation for a new vendor
singlehandedly allowed us to stay on track with one of our key
accounts.”

Professor Oliver beamed, then
asked more questions we took turns answering. When the meeting was
done, Bryan and I left together, getting a kick out of having
pulled it off. As we hit the street his phone buzzed. “It’s
Caldwell. I just need to answer this quickly.”

He stepped a few feet away, and as
I reached for my phone to check messages, I nearly bumped into a
curly-haired man wearing sunglasses and a long coat.

“Excuse me,” I
said and glanced quickly at the man. His face was unremarkable. He
was a standard sort of average-looking guy, but something felt
familiar about him. I flipped through images in my mind, and
finally settled on one – a photo I’d seen alongside the
article
Made Here Business Partner Ousted
by Board Following Affair.

Was this Wilco?

I stiffened, recalling Bryan’s
words. He’s hunting out dirt.

The man turned away, muttering
something that sounded like a hiss, then swiftly walked down the
street into midday crowds.

“Hey!” I called
out, but I wasn’t sure what to say or do next. I was frozen
momentarily, tense all over. Then I relaxed my shoulders, telling
myself that the guy was probably was just some random fellow who
happened to look like Wilco. After all, Wilco looked like every
other ordinary guy. My nervous mind was playing tricks on me. That
was all.

“Everything okay?” Bryan asked
when his call ended.

“Yeah. I saw
someone who I thought looked familiar. But it wasn’t anyone after
all.” I didn’t need to add to his worry, especially since we’d been
playing it so safe.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

But I wasn’t
entirely sure. I was quite certain though that we needed to
continue being careful, especially when I searched for Wilco online
again that evening. I studied his headshot closely, at the image of
Wilco looking professional and proper in a suit and tie. Maybe my
mind was still fooling me, but I couldn’t be sure if Wilco was the
man I’d seen today. I clicked over to his Facebook page to hunt for
less posed photos, but didn’t find any. What I did find, however,
was another reminder to stay above reproach. Wilco’s status update
was one line:
Things I hate –
hypocrites.

I shut the page quickly, as if
someone or something might jump out of the browser and attack. I
pressed my thumb and index finger against the bridge of my nose. I
needed to get Wilco and his hostility out of my head, where he was
lurking. I reached for my eReader and settled into my couch for a
much needed escape into a story of a young woman with a tragic past
who falls for a sexy Scotsman.

Yes, mind-blowing sex had a way of
erasing all the bad.

*****

Later that night, Bryan called and
asked what I’d been thinking about during the meeting.

“The one with my
professor?”

He laughed. “No. The one in my
conference room when you gave me this look as if you were doing
very naughty things to me with your mouth.”

“Oh, you caught on?”

“Of course. So tell
me.”

“I was imagining crawling under
the conference room table and going down on you while you asked
your team for supply chain recommendations.”

“Whoa.”

“You asked. I answer.”

“Oh, I like that answer a lot.
Tell me more.”

“I thought I’d start as some of
your guys were presenting slides on their picks for the next
quarter. I’d casually drop a pen under the table, and no one would
notice me as I bent down to pick it up. Then I’d make my way on my
hands and knees to the head of the table.”

“What would you do
then?”

“I’d touch your legs, and you’d be
startled for just a second because you hadn’t realized I was under
the table.”

“Ah, a surprise visit.”

“But you’d compose yourself
quickly and appear to be listening attentively as I made my way up
your legs, and to your zipper, and you’d be instantly hard knowing
why I was there.”

“I’m pretty much instantly hard
with you just in the room. Or talking to you. Or thinking about
you. So, yeah, all the time.”

I laughed once because I liked the
sentiment. “And you’d do everything to stifle a little moan as I
felt how much you wanted me right then and there.”

“I’d be such a great actor I’d get
an award.”

“But, I’m a
considerate woman. I wouldn’t want to make things
too
difficult for you
during a meeting, so I’d make quick work of you. I’d unzip your
pants quietly, and inch down your boxer briefs so I could free
you.”

“Mmmm.”

“And you’d appear to be listening
to your team, as I ran my hand over you, feeling how hard you are
and how much you wanted me to be touching you. You’d move nearer to
me under the table and I’d answer by tracing a tongue up and down,
teasing you with little flickers so much you’d want to
growl.”

“Instead, I’d put my hands under
the table and bring you closer.”

“And that would be my cue to take
you in my mouth. So I’d wrap my lips around you, somehow smiling
wickedly at how rock hard you are.”

“Like steel, baby.”

“Of course. And
you’d taste so good to me as I took you all the way in.”

“And I’d grab your hair. I’d want
to have you as deep as you could be.”

“It wouldn’t take you long since
you were already so turned on.”

“Because I was watching you during
the meeting, thinking about how low your shirt was, and how much I
wanted to take it off.”

“And I’d taste you, and you’d grip
me even harder, and I’d know you were going to come very
soon.”

“I’d have to be very quiet, so no
one knew that I’d never enjoyed a meeting more than this
one.”

“This would totally be your best
meeting ever, as I took you all the way in my mouth, and traced my
tongue across you as my lips held you tight, and then you grabbed
my hair even harder as you came in my mouth.”