I’m falling for Brielle.
Headfirst. No parachute. No safety net. She consumes my every thought.
Her brains, her drive, her playful sass. The way she makes me feel lighter when I’m with her, like my self-worth isn’t tied to CreativEdge’s general ledger. Her wide smile when I make a rare joke. Those hypnotic blue eyes that draw me in. She captivates me. She makes me want things I never thought I’d want in life.
A relationship… Romance… Love.
“That’s not what this is,” I tell my father. “I… We…” I stammer.
Like a vision, Brielle turns into my office. Her chestnut-brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, full waves cascading down her back. The white shirt she’s wearing isn’t quite see-through, but it’s not not see-through either, the outline of her bra subtly visible through the fabric. Her cherry lips look so damn kissable my heart stops beating in my chest.
“I have to go,” I say.
“Just remember what I told you. I’m looking out for you, Damian. Trust me, you don’t need some woman—”
“Yup. Got it.” I end the call and drop my phone on the desk. “Hey, come in.” I smile at Brielle.
She steps into my office and starts to close the door.
“No. Leave it open,” I tell her, not that I wouldn’t love to be in a private room, just her and I right now. Over her shoulder, I flick my eyes to Louisa sitting at her desk. She drops her gaze back to her computer, but as usual, I know she has seen everything. As much as itpisses me off that I gave us away with my inability to keep my eyes off her, I trust Louisa to keep this between us.
I just hope that isn’t a mistake or that more of the employees don’t start picking up on this thing between us. Because if one of them drives her away from me with their hateful rumors and jealous gossip, they’ll learn what it is really like to work for Satan.
Chapter 27
Brielle
Damian’shardbodybeneathmine. My hand on his rock-hard chest. The touch of his skin under my fingertips. His steady heartbeat pulsing in his neck.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open to his penthouse apartment.
I try to shake the images away before I knock on his door, but they persist, stubbornly stuck in my head. I’ve thought of little else since the other night. I even went to his office this afternoon on some trumped-up claim that I needed his eyes on one of our short-form videos, when in reality, I just wanted to see him.
Damian doesn’t answer my knock, and I’m comfortable enough after being here almost every day to let myself in. I step into the living room just as Damian is coming down the hallway.
Shirtless, sweaty, and out of breath. His gray sweatpants hang low on his lean waist. A peek of those furrowed grooves on his pelvis leads my gaze directly to what’s hiding beneath the cotton fabric. It’s like he’s walked straight out of my fantasies.
He’s clearly just finished a workout. He runs a towel over his hair, and my insides liquefy. He’s a masterpiece, built like a model, every muscle in his chest sculpted to perfection.
A foreign sound leaves my mouth, a cross between a gasp and a squeal. Damian’s gaze shoots to mine, his eyes darkening with desire.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he makes his way to me from the other side of the room.
“You’re early,” he says, his low voice rumbling, sending vibrations that I can feel all the way to my core.
“Looks like I’m right on time to me.”
I take a step toward him, my body pulled to his by a magnetic force. Tension surrounds us, an electrical current circling the air, pushing us ever closer.
Damian tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers caressing my jaw. He tilts my face up to his, and my breath catches in my throat. My lips part, inviting him to take them, to claim them.
“I need to take a shower.” He drops his hand. The broken eye contact steals the air from my lungs as he turns and leaves, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”
I bustle around the kitchen, my nerve endings shooting off a restless energy that buzzes through me. He’s right down the hall, naked and wet. And I’m standing here in his kitchen, alone.
What am I doing?
What we have, it’s already past the point of boss and employee. We spend every day together. The memories of what it’s like to be with him make my blood thrum. We’re already risking everything just by our friendship. Why am I denying us the satisfaction that we both want?
