My phone beeps. I pick it up, swipe the screen, and see it's a text message. My heart immediately races, my cock twitches, and I put my free hand behind my neck.
Sounds good. I have a surprise for you. Will you be wearing your glasses?
I smirk. They're already resting on the bridge of my nose, and I have no plans to remove them, but maybe I need to play with her a little bit.
Depends on what your surprise is.
I know what I hope it is. And I can't help this grin that's plastered on my face. Maybe last night was just fatigue screwing with our heads because this feels … nice. Really fucking nice.
It may involve these.
These what? There's nothing else there. Then, a picture comes through. Very high, very sexy, strappy red heels. Shit.
Delete these messages. Make sure you're not followed. And those are fuck me shoes. So, I hope if you're expecting that, you're prepared to answer my question from last night.
I stare at my response for a few seconds. Do I really want to start my day with her off like this? She's clearly wanting to play with me. I'm not sure this is the approach I want to take. Deleting the last sentence, I try again.
Delete these messages. Make sure you're not followed. And those are fuck me shoes. You know this is a business meeting, right?
Yeah, that's better. I press send.
What can I say other than I like mixing business with pleasure? Lots and lots of pleasure, MG. Deleting these. Don't write me back. I'll see you at noon. And if you know what's good for you, you'll be wearing the fucking glasses. Sorry. I meant the fuck me glasses. Because that's what they are.
Dragging in a breath, I rearrange my cock in my pants. And I can't let her have the last word.
This sounds like some kind of war. Maybe that's not the right word. Competition? Challenge? Who can tease the other more with their fuck me attire? Just know, agapemèni, I love a challenge. Game on. Delete this message while you're at it. And you don't write me back.
I can't help but grin. Until my phone pings with another damn text message. From her.
Asshole.
Shaking my head, I type a reply.
I didn't peg you for one of those girls who likes it in your asshole. I'm not really into anal. Thanks, though. Delete this message, and do not write me back. I get the last word. And no touching yourself.
I get up and rinse the bowl that had my oatmeal when my phone dings again. What? I'm not sure who's more stubborn, who's more hardheaded?
There's no text this time, just a picture. Her legs spread, black fabric rumpled around her hips, and her bare pussy exposed. She has her finger at her entrance. Fuck. I'm going to need to take a cold shower. Yeah, this is a game. And I can't say I'm complaining, but shit.
A message pops up below it.
Like this?
Damn tease.
Like that. Now you need to delete pictures and texts.
As much as I want to continue this game with her right now, to send her a picture back or ask for another of her, it's a bad idea. It has trouble in all caps written all over it. My fingers hover over the digital keyboard illuminating my screen. They type several different messages, but I erase them all before I press send. I drop my phone and head to take that shower. A frigid one.
Rubbing my sweaty palms against my pants, I glance at the clock one more time. She should have been here fifteen minutes ago. I don't feel like I can call or text her because maybe shit face has her pre-occupied. My body shudders at the ways that may be happening, but I shake my head, shaking the feeling. We have to be way more careful than we were this morning.
Then, another thought comes into mind. What if she is in trouble? Stupid. This plan was fucking ridiculous. Just as much as it wasn't safe for her to meet me in my office, having her come across town by herself was probably stupid, especially when people are after her.
If she got lost, she would text or call. That possibility, which would be the best damn scenario, is quickly dismissed. "Where are you, Jules?" I'm pacing back and forth, a nervous wreck. It's not even at the possibility of this little investigation of mine going south, but more out of concern for her, and I know I'm in so much deeper than I thought. My gut clenches when a little rap, tap, tap plays against my door. I nearly jump out of my skin like I did last night at the thunder. What the hell is wrong with me? So jumpy.
Peeking through the peephole, my will power dissipates, my nerves calming. I unlock the deadbolt. As soon as I open the door, I grab her arm and pull her inside as I close and lock it behind us.
Her lips curve into a playful smile when I slam her against the door. Her eyes light up as she sucks in a breath. "Is this how you start all your business meetings?"
I bite my bottom lip. Restraint, Theo, restraint. "No. No, it's not. Where are my manners?"
Her eyes widen. I am not sure what's changed about them since last night, but they're even more gorgeous than I remember. That's when I pull back and soak her up. She's wearing a skintight black dress-if we can even call it that. It's shorter than the one from yesterday. The neckline scoops low, showing her pushed up cleavage. The sleeves go down three quarters of her arm. My tongue grazes against my teeth, my body immediately responds to her, and since I'm in sweats, there's no hiding it.
My eyes travel down her legs to her feet, to those shoes. I'm not even going to admit how many times I've looked at her pictures. I know I should delete them, but I can't bring myself to do it. In person, this outfit is more than I could have ever imagined. Maybe now that I've seen it, I'll be able to bring myself to get rid of them. Or perhaps I could email them to myself before deleting them. Or take a picture with my regular camera. I don't know anything except I want the keepsakes of her wearing this. And she didn't wear it for him. She wore it for me.
Skimming a finger down her cheek, I lean in. "Are you hungry?"
She freezes, and I slowly reach down, taking her bag from her.
"What do you keep in this thing, woman? A dead body?"
"You know it's not big enough for a whole body. Maybe just a dick, head, or both." She grins. "Don't worry. I like your dick and your head way too much." Reaching up, she touches my glasses. Then she kisses my cheek. "And these."
My body starts to relax. My eyes drift closed. "I was serious about the food. I cooked for you." I turn to walk to the kitchen.
She grabs my arm. "Wait. Theo, wait."
"Huh?"
The cute smile she had is gone. "Food can wait. I know we were tired last night. I'm sorry."
I nod my head, narrowing my eyes. Truth be told, I haven't been able to get it off my mind. In fact, I was willing to use every bit of my willpower to not just avoid her advances, but to not bring it up. That was my game plan, my strategy. Am I that transparent that she can see straight through me?
"Just like that, everything we shared here is over because I wouldn't tell you? Because I can't tell you?"
Pursing my lips, I study her. Her brown eyes search mine, her forehead wrinkled. She doesn't try to cover herself like she's hiding something or ashamed. "You can't possibly expect me to trust you when you can't be straight with me."
She swallows and glances down. "I'm being straight with you. I can't tell you. You have to trust me."
I walk away, mainly so I can put this fucking bag down somewhere. "But see, that's the thing. I don't have to trust you."
"Theo."
"Jules." I put her bag down, then turn around, gripping the counter.
She closes the distance and puts her hands on the outside of mine. "Are you still going to help me?"
My jaw ticks. "Tell me. Just fucking tell me."
A tear drips from her eye. "All I can say is if you won't help me, I'm going to have no choice but to look for help elsewhere because I can't take the fall for something I didn't do. And this is me begging you to believe me." She bites her cheek. "We play games with each other, but you have to know this isn't one of them. I want you."
She's got to be bluffing. She can't be serious. Who the hell is she going to get to help her? "Do what you have to do."
Her single tear turns into a bunch. They're flowing like a fountain, and my stomach tightens, bile rising in my throat. Shit. Is this all an act? Even if it is, it's going to kill me to sit here and watch her sob. Her shoulders hunch over and her body heaves. "Okay," she whispers through her crying. "If that's what you want."
Wrapping my arms around her, I rest my chin on her head. Fuck it. "You think this is what I want?"
She nods as her arms wrap around my waist. Damn if that isn't the best hug I've ever felt. Even bigger fuck.
"Who are you going to get to help you if I don't? I'm just curious."
She glances up, her mascara streaming down her face. "The FBI."
Jackass Jakobe Martin, FBI, told me I couldn't mention they approached me to anyone, or my deal would be thrown out. This coming right after he groped me in the elevator. I really thought there was some law against that. There's a security camera in our elevator. But knowing him, he probably had the feed cut if he knew he was going to approach me.
And I tried to call today to find out, but Charlie kept interrupting me every time I was about to dial the number. It's not like I can say anything in front of him. That would be just too dangerous. Never mind he kept hounding me about my outfit.