Ugh.
“Sorry.”
He trailed a hand along my shoulder, moving it across to the other one like a trainer would do with a spooked horse. “Listen, you don’t need to over think things. This doesn’t have to be scary.”
Was I that obvious?
Did I read like a book to him?
Marlow was, on the surface, a playful personality with plenty of wisecracks ready to rip at any moment. And yet, under all of that, his calculating side was ever-present.
How else could he get to be so successful in the financial world?
It wasn’t solely on his charm. There was a knack to analyzing and picking apart your opponent that would fly over the head of someone like me, but for me, it was like learning a second language.
Hard at first and then a fucking breeze.
“No need to be sorry.” When he stood in front of me, he was close enough to lean into, his hand still hooked around my shoulder in a casual way that felt anything but. “We’re just getting to know each other.”
“Are we?”
Yeah, right.
He huffed out another laugh. “What do you think this is?”
“You can’t honestly think I’mthatdense, right? I got the jab about being naive yesterday. But come on.”
To my surprise, his grip on my shoulder tightened and he used it to drive me backward until my back hit the wall right next to the door. My heart stuttered in my chest, a hard thump thatwas so loud in my ear I was convinced he’d heard it too by the way his smile grew into something smug.
“Blake.”
I swallowed. “Marlow.”
He leaned down, his breath tickling my face. “You want me. You don’t need to be ashamed of it.”
My breath shook as I exhaled slowly. He was so close and smelled like a fucking pine-infused bonfire.
How was it possible for a man to smellthatgood?
It was unfair. I was no match against a man like him.
His lips were slightly wet from his tongue darting out to swipe at them, pink and a little swollen from sucking on the lip of his beer bottle a few minutes ago when I’d stolen him from his friends.
Or had he stolen me?
“Tell me I’m wrong.” His voice dropped down an octave.
My dick ached in my pants.
“You... We’re supposed to be?—”
“Professional?” he teased.
“Yes.” I was too acutely aware of how badly my face was burning. “You’re myclient.”
“Guest. We don’t need to go all corporate.”
“Marlow.”
