Possessed By You (Overworld Underground Book 1) (7 page)

"Is anything the matter?" I asked, wanting him to turn and kiss me again. To see if it felt the same way the second time.

He looked over his shoulder, eyes scanning. I turned and looked, but saw nothing.

"Nah, it's just late," he said. "Time for you to get home."

"But—"

"We'll have to do this again sometime."

I could tell by the tone of his voice he didn't mean it. Something was wrong. I planted my feet and jerked him to a halt. He probably could have pulled me along easily, but stopped and turned, sighing.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked.

"It's—you were right earlier." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's not a good idea for us to do this."

"And you waited to kiss me before figuring this out?" I said, anger loosening the knots in my stomach. "Does my breath stink?"

He smiled. "No, not at all—"

"Do I kiss poorly?"

"Emily, no." His voice grew quiet. "If anything, it's the opposite. I never—" he touched his lips, eyes staring into space as if remembering the feeling. "It made me shiver."

My anger changed to confusion. "Then what's the problem?"

"There is no problem." He looked away. "And that's the problem."

"Kiss me," I said.

"What?"

"Kiss me. I want to see if it was real. To see if it feels the same."

Thomas shook his head. "Not a good idea. Really not."

"Don't you dare turn me down, Mr. Jones, or I will be very cross with you." I put all the fire I could muster into my eyes.

He backed up a step, waved his arms in surrender. "Fine, fine. But I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

Consequences be damned. I wanted to see if the first kiss was a fluke. If it had been all in my mind. If—Thomas cut off my thoughts as he drew near, one hand pressing the small of my back, the other hand taking my jaw in a gentle caress.

He leaned in close. Drew in a deep shuddering breath. "You are trouble."

Our lips met. The heat from his mouth ran down my neck and into my legs. My knees went weak, nearly buckling, but his hand at my back steadied me. My stomach muscles tightened, and I felt a leg lift off the ground. I could practically feel the electric current pulsing between us. I felt his warm body press to mine. Felt his excitement grow against my leg.

Oh lord. This is most certainly trouble.

The kiss seemed cut short when he pulled away, or perhaps time had simply stopped flowing. My breath shuddered in my lungs, and the air suddenly seemed much colder without his warmth against me. I could not stop looking into his amazing green eyes, nor stop the wondrous expression from spreading across my face. How could this be? Who was this man, and what had he slipped into my drink to make me feel this way?

"Who are you?" Thomas said, the slightest glimmer of a smile in his eyes. "And what have you done to me?"

"Those were the exact questions I wanted to ask you."

"I asked first."

I shook my head. "I can't think straight right now." My hand still rested on his shoulder.

He reached up and took it into his, weaving his fingers with mine. "It's late, Emily. I'll see you home." He stepped to the curb and waved down a taxi. Handed a bill to the driver. "Goodnight."

"Y—yes. Good night, Thomas."

He brushed his lips against mine. "Sweet dreams."

I dropped into the backseat of the taxi and sat there for a moment before the driver prompted me for my address. I shook the cobwebs from my head and told him. Looked out the back window to see Thomas standing there, his eyes never leaving the taxi, until he faded in the distance.

During the short drive home, confusion mingled with my elation. Worry gnawed at my insides. What in the world had I gotten myself into?

Chapter 6

"Oh my god," Isabel said, her eyes going wide when I spilled the beans to her. She wore pink Hello Kitty lounge pants, a black T-shirt, and was nibbling the chocolate from a Dove bar. "You did what?"

"I kissed my boss." Technically, he wasn't my direct boss, but he was
a
boss. And the kiss had been far more exciting than I really wanted to admit.

She jumped up, pausing the reality show on the television. "You're making up for lost time fast, girl! Tell me all about it." She ran to the fridge. "Want a Dove bar?"

I nodded.

"Some wine?"

I looked at the time. It was almost ten. But my nerves felt jumbled and my mind replayed the evening over and over again. "Yes, please."

Isabel smirked. "Oh, this must really be a humdinger."

I accepted the ice cream bar and glass of wine, sampling each before launching into my oratory. By the time I'd finished, Isabel was on her second ice cream treat and another glass of red wine.

"He's the guy who saved us from the asshole in the alley?" Isabel said. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

"It's all rather surreal." I used my lips to pull the last bit of ice cream from the stick. "I wonder if I've been drugged."

"Oh, you're drugged all right." She grinned. "What a cool date. I hate it when guys take me to a fancy restaurant, and think it's gonna get them in my pants."

I smiled. "Because they don't even need the dinner do they?"

Isabel gasped and laughed. "You are so mean."

"Mean, but right?"

"I'm pure as the wind-driven snow, I'll have you know." She stuck her nose in the air and huffed.

"That's my Izzy."

"So." She gave me sideways look. "Are you going to do him?"

A flush ran up my face. "Am I what?"

"Gonna do the tango? Let him ride in the trunk?"

I swatted her shoulder. "You have such a filthy mind."

"Filthy in a good way." She held up her wine glass. "Here's to awesome dates, amazing kisses, and well-hung knights in shining armor."

I clinked my glass against hers. "I can drink to that."

"So is he?"

"Is he what?"

"You said you felt him during the last kiss. Is he well hung?"

I laughed. "I didn't exactly break out the tape measure."

Isabel gave me a curious look. "But did you feel him? You know, do the crotch test? I do that sometimes when I'm thinking I might want to do a little something-something."

"Good lord no!" I shuddered. "I just felt him against my leg, you little pervert."

She cackled with laughter. "You're so uptight, Em. You really need to loosen up. Don't let the asshole in your past ruin sex for the rest of your future."

Some of the fun went out of the evening as I thought of
him
. I stared forlornly at my half-empty wine glass. "Well, I should be going to bed."

"Aw, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Isabel's eyebrows pinched with worry.

"No, it's not that. I really need to sleep. Early morning."

Isabel touched my arm as I tried to rise. "Em, I know you don't like to talk about it, but you're letting he-who-shall-go-unnamed control your life. He's a total douchebag with a tiny little dick. Do
not
give him this kind of control."

My heart ached at her words. At the thought of my ex. I knew she was right, but it was so hard to forget and move on. "Peter doesn't actually have a tiny dick."

She burst into laughter. "How would you know? Have you seen any others to compare it with?"

"Of course. I—I've seen pictures. I'm not completely sheltered." I shrugged. "And I did have a boyfriend in high school too."

"As if I don't remember Dave. I still don't know how you resisted that boy."

"We messed around a little."

"And you're just telling me this now?" Isabel looked hurt.

"I was embarrassed." I looked away from her. "You know how hard it is for me to talk about that stuff."

"That stuff is called sex, sweetie." She sighed. Chuckled. "You're hopeless. How in the world you could be my best friend and still remain so uptight is beyond me." Her hand squeezed my arm. "I've failed you. I know that now. It's time for me to take you under my wing and teach you
karate
." She said the last word in a terrible Japanese accent.

We burst into laughter. The pain lifted from my chest. Listening to her might be a good thing, I supposed.

"It's so strange. Most preachers' daughters go crazy in college," Isabel said. "Your dad must have really frightened the hell out of you."

I shook my head. "Yeah, right. My dad doesn't scare anyone."

She chuckled. "I know. He's such a nice guy. You do realize he and your mom had to get it on for you to come into this world, right? Even preachers have to—"

"Oh, ugh!" I said, holding up a hand and gagging. "Don't say another word."

We talked a bit more, and then I headed to bed. The wine must have done a number on me, because I didn't lay awake for long before drifting to sleep.

Excitement fluttered through me as I prepared for work the next day, despite the ungodly hour. I caught myself humming Thomas's karaoke song from the previous night, or rather trying to rap under my breath as I put my lunch in a container.

"Oh lord, I have it bad," I said. But the truth was, I couldn't wait to see Thomas. Couldn't wait to see the twinkle in his lovely eyes.

As I walked along, my mental radar pinged. I looked up from my phone and saw George Walker leaning against the wall.

He smiled and pushed himself upright. "Good morning."

I stopped and stared at him. "Did you catch Stephen?"

George shook his head. "We were unable to find him."

Disappointment dampened my cheery mood. Seeing this man again brought back to mind the multitude of questions I had for him. "How did you even know about the attack in the first place?"

"There were eye-witness accounts about an incident at the pub down the road." He motioned in the direction of Gronsky's. "The bartender told me you and your roommate had mentioned something about an attack."

"Have you questioned my roommate?" I knew he couldn't have because Isabel would have told me about it the instant I saw her.

He shook his head. "We really don't want word of this getting out. It's best if we limit who knows about the investigation."

"What would the CDC want with a rapist?" I felt my eyebrows raise. "Is he one of those loons who tries to spread contagious diseases?" The mere thought of what he could've given Isabel by biting her made my stomach contract painfully.

"I can assure you that he's not contagious. I can't go further into why we're interested in him, but it's still imperative we get him off the streets." George gave me a discerning look and abruptly changed the subject. "You knew I was here before you looked up."

I felt acutely uncomfortable at his question. "Just a feeling I was being watched."

He didn't seem convinced. "You said you felt coldness emanating from the attacker. Perhaps you can sense him again."

I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "It's just intuition, really. I'm not a lunatic claiming to be psychic."

"I know." George gave me a reassuring smile. "Regardless, we'll need you to confirm the suspect's identity when we pick him up. Would you be willing to do that?"

"Of course." I checked the time on my phone. "I really must be going, though." Before I went, I cast a narrow-eyed look at him. "Don't you have an office or a better way to contact me than by standing on the streets like a vagrant?"

George chuckled. "This is much easier than dragging you into an office, wouldn't you agree?"

Admittedly, I wouldn't relish the idea of going out of my way for an interview at their offices. "I suppose." I gave him a nod. "Good day." I strode briskly away, wondering if I might be going mental. Why did I see images when George was around? Had I really felt something coming from Stephen?
It must stress related.
After all, I'd been attacked, started a new job, and possibly initiated an illicit affair with an older man who happened to be an authority figure at work. Perhaps it was all too much for me to handle.

I arrived at work and had to ask the janitor to let me in since Sandra hadn't thought to leave me the key. Thankfully, the man took me at my word that I wasn't a hooligan and unlocked the door. I prepared the coffee, went about my morning tasks, and then sat at Sandra's desk for a lack of anywhere else to go.

The salespeople greeted me with smiles and waves as they piled in around eight. The programmers, clumped into little groups as they came off the lift, seemed absorbed in conversations as they walked past, probably talking about video games or something equally nerdy, I supposed. One of them, a young man in designer jeans and a hoodie, stopped and did a double take when he saw me. His T-shirt beneath the unzipped hoodie had a large nametag emblazoned on it with the words: "HELLO My Name Is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

I laughed. "Very clever."

He looked down at his shirt. "I know, right? Is Sandra gone?" His voice sounded a hopeful note.

"She's sick with the flu."

"Oh." He smiled. "Is she gonna die?"

I giggled. "I believe she'll survive."

He sighed. "Oh well. Are you just temping then?"

"I'm the new intern."

His eyes brightened. "Awesome. I'm Jack." Held out a hand.

I shook it, noting with satisfaction his firm shake despite his programmer pedigree. "Pleased to meet you, Jack."

He took off the hoodie, revealing surprisingly well-defined arms. "I'm the one who's pleased." He laughed. "Sandra is a bitch."

"No comment," I said with a wink.

"I like you already." He tucked his hoodie under an arm. "Oh well, guess I'd better get to work before Hinkle has a fit."

"Hinkle?"

"Yeah, he's like the friggin pit boss at a cage match. Makes sure we're pumping out code on time." One corner of his mouth crept up. "I'm sure you'll meet him at some point." He waved. "Bye now."

I found myself checking out his backside as he walked down the hall. Someone cleared their throat, and I jerked back to attention to find Thomas standing there, coffee in one hand, a newspaper tucked under his arm. A hot flush spread across my face. I'd completely forgotten about running down to the Java Hippo for his coffee and paper. "Oh, goodness. Uh, hello Thom—Mr. Jones."