“Six-thirty.”
She nodded. “I think tomorrow I should turn my attention to Wexler. If this is going to work, I should know everything I can about that company too.”
“Good. Let’s call it a night for now.” He walked over to a mahogany sideboard. “Let’s have a drink. You want scotch? Or something else?”
“No, I feel like a change. Surprise me.”
“Okay, hang on, I’m going to run to the kitchen for ice.”
While he was gone Cassie looked around the office some more. Same as yesterday, he hadn’t turned on any overhead lights, instead relying on floor and table lamps that dotted the space. Awash in soft, warm light, tucked away high over the snow-covered city, the huge office managed to feel cozy and comfortable. This was…nice. The winter break from school, while welcome in that it meant a respite from her usually punishing pace, did get a little solitary sometimes.
He came back with an armful of stuff and began mixing and shaking. “I make a mean crantini,” he said.
“Crantini! Isn’t that a little…”
“Froufrou?” He turned and grinned, two of the offending drinks in hand. “Not the way I make them.” He handed her one and clinked the edge of his glass against hers.
She took a sip, and as promised, the drink was neither cloying nor sweet. “Wow,” she said, lips puckering at the sour blast.
“Yeah, I use real cranberry juice, no sugar—but I can froufrou-ify on demand.”
“No, it hits the spot, thanks.” Suddenly, she was hit with a wall of exhaustion, aware of the tension that had built up in her shoulders from an afternoon of hunching and craning her neck. With a sigh, she lowered herself to the couch, kicked off her shoes, and stretched her legs out along it.
He surprised her by sitting on the couch, too, and not even on the opposite end, but right in the middle. She pulled her legs back a little to make room for him, but he only moved closer and tugged her legs back so her feet were in his lap. He rested his hands on her shins, and she could feel the heat emanating from him even through the jeans that covered her legs.
“Tired?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around one of her ankles and drawing his thumb up the sole of her foot.
Pleasure shot through her as she let her head fall forward. “Ohhhh.”
He responded by increasing the pressure.
This was probably not a good idea.
But, on the other hand, if they were done sleeping together, what could it hurt? “Okay, you can just forget the fifty grand and pay me in foot rubs,” she said, hoping to signal that she wasn’t taking the whole thing too seriously.
Then he peeled off her sock and repeated the stroke with his thumb against her bare skin, watching her face the whole while. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Yeah?” It was hard to concentrate. There was the inherent deliciousness of the massage, yes, but the fact that it was him with her foot in his hands had her nerves humming. It was an odd combination of relaxation and alertness.
“I’m not the kind of person who plays games,” he said, sliding his thumbs to the front of her foot and stroking up the sides of her ankle. “I have these rules, see.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned them once or twice.” And she understood. She had a few of her own.
“Several apply here. I don’t do relationships. I don’t sleep with my employees.”
“Yep. Uh huh. Got it.” She really did. There was no need for him to keep reminding her of all the reasons nothing more was going to happen between them.
“So you’ll appreciate how I’m between a rock and a hard place.” He looked down at his lap. “Literally.”
She followed his gaze. A telltale lump in his jeans gave her a little thrill.
“Because on the one hand, I have the rules.”
“And on the other?” she prompted.
“Every second that I’m in your presence I’m thinking about how badly I want to fuck you again.”
…
A slow smile blossomed on Cassie’s face. She was such an incredible mix of innocent and wicked. It drove him apeshit.
“I see your dilemma,” she said, pointing the toes of the foot he wasn’t holding so they could just reach his cock, which, as usual in her presence, was at full attention. Case in point: one minute she’d be all guileless and sweet, laughing and pasta-swearing, the next she’d be pressing purple sparkly painted toes against his poor beleaguered dick. “However, I believe there’s another interpretation. You just need to look at the situation creatively.”
He closed his eyes and clenched his fists to keep from lunging at her. “How so?”