Tell Me You Want Me by Willow Winters
Suzette
Adrian is most of the reason I couldn’t sleep. Those dreams were too hot to forget and they made me twist and turn in the sheets until morning. There was plenty to keep my mind occupied between replaying what happened on his office desk and the way he treated me after. The man himself is a whirlwind and I can barely hold on. There’s an ache between my thighs still, even though it’s been hours and hours.
The tall macchiato does nothing to help the bags under my eyes, but with a deep breath in, I prepare to make my way to my office like nothing happened.
Stepping foot inside feels illicit in a way it never did before. I’ve always come in with my chin up, ready to do battle for another day. Today that kick-ass persona is nowhere to be found. It’s somewhere between a childish puppy dog love and the feelings that accompany the walk of shame.
In all those hours of tossing and turning, I came to one conclusion: I have, what feels like, a crush. Back in high school I used to get this fluttering-heart feeling for some of the guys in my class … that ended less than well. Pining after men in college led to my ex-husband. So all of these feelings can fuck off. It’s against everything I stand for to have that kind of feeling for Adrian. It’s forbidden to have sex with your boss on his desk. It’s wrong to daydream about it so much you lose focus on your work.
It’s a no go. A hard pass. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t text him the second he messaged me. Those giddy little feelings are my kryptonite. I suppose there’s always an exception to every rule and Adrian Bradford is just that: exempt from every boundary I’ve spent years defining. Even as I sit at my desk, the tapping of keys and hushed chatter around me, I can barely keep from looking toward the elevator. All I want to know is if he’s up there. I want to know if he can’t stop thinking about what happened on his desk either.
Hours pass slowly through the day until I get a text message from him at four. His name on my phone makes the temperature of my body kick up a notch. I swallow hard, trying to subdue it all.
Adrian: Meet me at the elevator at six.
The hours went by slowly before but now they drag on and on, each tick of the clock taking forever. I stare at my computer screen, rereading every email twice. Triple-checking my responses to clients and sending back nearly every design I’m given from the graphics department. Not because they need changing or that they don’t fit the branding for said clients. But simply because I can’t focus and there’s no way in hell I’m approving anything when all I keep imagining is my boss’s expression when he calls me good girl.
At four fifteen there’s a meeting in one of the smaller conference rooms downstairs. It’s all I can do not to stare at Adrian through the large paned windows. In the glances I do steal, he appears less than thrilled. Every expression is dour as they leave one by one, Adrian leaving last and not looking back.
At ten to five, half a dozen executive assistants and senior executive assistants, some of whom I know but most I don’t, move through the office in a clump. It’s a relief that something has happened to break up the routine of the day.
“Fired,” Gail whispers to me. I nearly spill my coffee when she does. I didn’t realize she was standing so close, also spying.
“What?” I question. I’ve known Gail for years now. She’s a damn good resource for client retention, but also the lead watercooler gossip. “Did you say fired? Are you sure?”
Nodding, she sweeps her curly dark brown hair back over one shoulder and then holds her coffee cup with both hands. In heels and leaning against the wall, the modelesque Latina in her late twenties towers over me. “I bet there will be an email going out soon.”
All of them? Fired?She leaves me with a sick feeling stirring in the pit of my stomach as she bids her farewell. “It’s what he does. No one should be surprised.”
I know he has a reputation, but how the hell can a company run if every executive is severed?
Not long after that, an assistant director, Daniel Prath, who I spotted in the conference room earlier, has a screaming fit at the elevators with another man I don’t know. Including the phrases, “this company would have gone under without me” and “good luck staying in business.”
They must be fired, then.
Although the whispers that spread, in part largely to Gail, include fears of the company running with so many leads laid off at once, most don’t mind seeing them leave. I’m certain a few who were under the executive assistant in finance will cheer in celebration to that prick’s departure. All I ever heard about him were complaints.
It doesn’t take more than an hour to pass before there’s a conclusion among the majority of whispers: Those men encompass all that is wrong with the corporate world. They let people go rather than compensating them in the manner they should have been paid. They hired new employees and paid them less, pushing more onto everyone else’s plate. They demanded more and more from all of us, wanting everyone to take one for the team while increasing their bonuses every year.
It’s not good for a business to run that way, and it’s not good for people to live that way. The management here uses up employees until they break, then fires them, and starts over. They’ve never acknowledged or paid their respects to the employees who made the company what it is.
And now they’re walking out the door.
Five o’clock comes and nearly everyone is gone already. Most taking the day off to “readjust” to new procedures from their higher-ups. I stay, like I always do. The last hour, when everyone’s left and it’s quiet, when the emails stop and calls go to voicemail, are my most productive. Judging by Adrian’s statement yesterday, and his message from today, six is when the clock strikes midnight for him as well.
Somehow, that makes those giddy, girly feelings all the headier.
It’s six on the dot when I press the silver button with the arrow icon pointing downward for the elevator. I don’t know how I’m able to stand upright, with the nervousness that runs through me.
It isn’t like me, none of this is. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t thrilling.
When the doors open, my heart races at the sight in front of me. Adrian is already there waiting for me. Forcing myself to move slowly so he doesn’t see my anxiousness, I move to his side and turn to face the doors. “I expect there will be a company-wide email shortly,” I say to him as if it’s casual conversation. We both stare straight ahead, the doors still open, making each second pass by at an achingly slow rate.
“Why is that?” He moves to press the button for the foyer and I note the way his bespoke suit wraps around his broad shoulders. And the way he fills the not-so-small cabin with his presence alone.
“I hear heads will be rolling.”
As the elevator door closes, he smirks at me, a devilish look that brings an overwhelming heat to my cheeks. The elevator begins its descent and he asks, “Is that the talk at the watercooler?”
“More like the profanity Prath screamed on his way out.”
He chuckles, then reaches for the button again. One strong knuckle pushes in the emergency stop button.
Tick, tick, tick, my heart rages in my chest. Desire fills me, moving over my skin and pinning me in place. I should know better than to do this but I don’t. He’s a fantasy come to life and I won’t deny myself. How could a lowly sinner say no when the devil himself tempts her?
Confined in a small space together with no way out unless he decides and presses that button … all I feel is want and desire.
With one decisive stride, Adrian towers over me and personal space is nonexistent. My heel slips back half a step before I think better of it. He was calm and collected when I stepped onto the elevator, but now his eyes burn with a hunger I know all too well. With my next breath, the scent of his cologne fills my lungs.
“I’ve had a rather difficult day,” he rasps. “And it’s well after six p.m.”
He pushes me against the wall all at once and it’s just like when he put me on top of his desk. Reasoning becomes impossible and pushing him away is even more unlikely. Adrian slides my dress up, his hands hot and his touch sending every nerve ending beneath it into sparks.
His hands roam in every place I’ve thought of him touching, of him claiming, since I left him last night. He’s rough and commanding, gripping my curves and devouring my neck with openmouthed kisses. Every sensation is ignited and all I can do is hold on. With my arms around his shoulders, I can barely breathe, the heat suffocating me.
I don’t doubt he’s missed this as much as I have. Maybe he did spend his day like I did, obsessed with the idea of continuing what we started yesterday.
With ease he spreads my legs, standing between them and undoes his buckle. My back is pressed against the hard metal. I hook my knee around his hip and drop my head back against the elevator wall. “Suzette,” he growls against my neck. It’s even hotter now in the small space, because of how much I want him and because of the need in his voice.
He strokes his fingers between my legs, teasing me and I can barely stand it. “You were hot and bothered all night, weren’t you?” he says, his piercing gaze staring deep into mine. He smirks while he asks the questions, confident that he’s right.
“No, I barely thought of you.”
He chuckles at my response and then calls me a liar as two of his thick fingers push inside of me. “Tell me how much you want me.”
“I want you,” I moan, and rock as much as I can to feel more of him inside of me.
When he tsks, stilling his motions, I open my eyes. “Uh, uh, uh. If you’re going to move your hips like that, it won’t be for anything but me.”
He takes his cock in his fist and lines it up with my wet slit, then thrusts in. The movement is so hard and controlling that it takes my breath away. I gasp at the size of him and he pauses, buried deep inside of me, as I adjust to his girth.
“That’s my good girl,” he says in a breathy voice against my neck. It doesn’t take long for him to move again, and I meet him with every thrust, my heels digging into his ass.
“Yes,” he coaxes. “You have no fucking idea how hot you are,” he groans, pulling a strap of my dress down and kissing, nipping down my shoulder to my breast.
My voice deserts me and I can’t reply other than to angle my hips to take him deeper. My nails scratch at his jacket, in an effort to hold on to him.
It’s fast. It’s dirty. And I want to remember every last detail.
The elevator door dings.I’m still trying to get my breathing to a normal rate, but at least my hair doesn’t give anything away. My dress is as smooth as it can be, but there’s no doubt that I’m a hue pinker than I ought to be given that the city has a chill in the air this late in April.
As I walk with him, keeping pace, I remind myself there are no obligations. This is nothing but a fling, or an office fuck buddy. Given that I haven’t dated in the better part of a decade other than the one-night stands I had to celebrate leaving my piece of shit ex, I have no idea what we are.
But I want more of it.
The thought of whatever we are is both exciting and terrifying. Adrian makes me feel things, but I’m smart enough not to fall for him. I have to be, or this could end very badly. Hands to my hair, I smooth it down one more time and prepare to tell him a quick good night. My heels click on the marble floor of the lobby and I note that the place is nearly vacant. But not entirely. No one looks our way, though. I thank my lucky stars for that.
As we get to the large glass doors that lead to the bustling streets, I start what I think will be an acceptable farewell, “That was—”
“Come with me tonight.” He’s firm, businesslike as he stands toe to toe with me, waiting for an answer. His words reverberate through me, cutting off the farewell in addition to my thoughts.
“You don’t need to buy me dinner.”
“Do you eat?” he questions and there’s not a trace of humor.
“Yes.”
“Good.” His eyes glint. “I want to feed you. Besides, we have things to discuss and we have—”
“You’ve made decisions regarding my department?” I question him, the sight from this afternoon putting me on edge instantly. “The only thing I’ve received from your team is a request for the client list.”
That list is as good as gold. Everything they wanted in that email was essentially preparing paperwork so that another person could take over if need be. I’m not stupid, but I am under contract and not the only one with the list.
“We won’t be discussing work at dinner.”
“I can damn well discuss what I’d like.”
“Watch that mouth of yours.” His mouth quirks but he doesn’t quite smile. More of a smirk. “It’s after six,” he whispers, and with the look he gives me, I glance over my shoulder to be sure no one is watching.
Adrian fixes his cuffs, readjusting his sleeves. “I have a late meeting with an associate. His wife wanted to do a tour of New York on a private ship. You could accompany me. The meeting will be short, and they’re good company. I’ve heard the chef they hired for tonight is excellent as well.”
The heat from the elevator is back, and all of it is on my face. “I thought we were just—”
“I want more than sex, Suzette. Although I enjoy that immensely.”
“What exactly do you want, Mr. Bradford?”
“To get to know you,” he says simply.
It throws me off. What we were doing in his office and the elevator is so forbidden that I’d assumed we would have strong boundaries and never cross them. Getting to know each other is definitely crossing them. “Well … the first thing I typically tell someone is I’m divorced and I hate the male species.”
The lift of his brow is telling: I wasn’t acting like I hated him in the elevator. “Surely there is more to you than your dating status.”
I hesitate. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“Having dinner after sex is serious?”
“Hanging on your arm as a date to an after-hours event? Being seen together … that’s not discreet.”
“I assure you, my evenings are discreet. Nearly everyone I speak to has signed an NDA with me at some point or another and it’s all business.”
“If you think you need to woo me or somehow …” I can’t finish. I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking.
“Or what?”
I decide to be blunt. “I don’t mind just being a fuck toy,” I admit to him, my voice low. “In fact, I enjoy it.”
He groans as if I said it just to torture him. “Your fucking mouth, Suzette.”
He must know how hot he is when he does that. When he speaks to me like that. It’s not fair in the least. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from grinning. A genuine smile, different from the one I use in meetings or when I pass people in the hall at work.
He straightens and runs a hand over his mouth. “I’ll make this very simple for you. I’m attracted to you. I’d like you to come with me tonight. Now say yes.”
I try to read his expression. Unsettled and hot, I search for the meaning behind his words and the meaning behind his intentions. More importantly, what they’ll do to me.
“Don’t make me beg, Suzette,” he states as if he really would. “Come. Say yes.”
I answer without thinking, “Yes.”