“Then why are you following me?” she demanded, hands on her shapely hips.
In a white sundress.
His little engineer was a feminine flower, and Kingston thought his heart would explode.
“Just the last few steps,” he said. “I didn’t even know you were on the second floor. There’s a sales meeting in late September to start pre-planning for the show at the Javits Center in NYC. It’s going to be a huge show.”
“Yeah, well, I’m just making a few copies.”
She turned back to the copy machine, a behemoth that came up to her shoulders, dropping a sheaf of papers in the feeder.
“I just wanted to explain?—”
Her words were clipped when she spoke, “I’m not interested in your reframing of what you said.”
“There are things I can’t tell you.”
“Then you shouldn’t.”
“I didn’t want them to have to lay people off from Sidewinder. I want to help the company.”
She spun back to face him. “Younevershould’ve asked me to give you my designs. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I will not be a part of it.”
Kingston lolled his head to the side in frustration, his brain so busy coming up with retorts that he did not see his hand reach forward. “Nicole, that’s not what I meant.”
His fingers grabbed hers.
Their hands were joined, linking them together, a bridge and a bond.
Nicole didn’t pull away.
Her fingers tightened around his.
Passion is anger and passion is sex, and the energy can channel either way.
Kingston dragged her toward him.
When she slammed into his chest, he wrapped his other arm around her, caging her.
Nicole grabbed the collar of his shirt to rise up to her toes, closed her eyes, and her head tilted back.
His mouth crashed down on her, kissing her and sucking her breath into his mouth until his head spun. He let go of her hand and reached out to steady himself on the copier, but she stumbled with him, ending up with her back pressed against the mammoth machine while it pounded out pages with rhythmic clanks and howls.
She was kissing him back, her arms around his neck, her breath quick in his ear as he ran his mouth over her neck to her shoulder.
Her curves under his hands were a cherished memory, tinged with regret.
Longing made him desperate.
She bit his neck, a spark of pain that jumped his nerves, and her hands insinuated between their bodies to find his belt.
“I don’t have a condom,” he growled.Cried? Growled.
“I’m on the Pill,” she said, her voice cracking.
“You weren’t.”
“In case you came back,” she said, her whimper sad and needy at the same time.
