“Yes, mistress.” I was vaguely aware of him moving around and the door opening as he took his exit. We were finally alone.
“Christ, baby, don’t stop,” she said, her tone softening, her body relaxing as she felt the freedom to let go. Her hands dropped to my hair, clutching me to her. And I groaned against her, the vibration adding to my tongue’s caress, sending her to the brink. She screamed out as the waves took her and I moved my hands to her ass so that I could clutch her against my face, determined to prevent the contact from breaking, my mouth working her until she was too sensitive to take the touch.
Dropping to her knees before me she rested her forehead against mine. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s you that needs thanking. Do you think we got enough?”
She smiled. “We got plenty. There’s no way he will deny our request.”
Chapter Fourteen
And he didn’t.
Monday morning at nine, Emma and I were in James’ waiting room without an appointment, much to the displeasure of his frosty receptionist — a statuesque blonde that had even the feminist in me questioning the basis on which she had been hired.
“If you could just let him know we are here,” Emma insisted, her smile enough to make the saintliest succumb. “I assure you, he will wish to see us.”
Without taking her eyes off us, the Ice Queen raised the receiver and spoke discretely to the person at the other end. “I have a Miss Jones and Miss Sawyer wanting to see you, I’ve explained how busy—”
To her obvious chagrin, she didn’t get to finish, the elevated voice at the other end reaching as far as us before cutting off completely.
She looked away as she returned the receiver, her mask of cool professionalism slipping admirably into place. “As you suspected, Miss Jones, Mr. Crane will—”
The door to James’ office flew open, halting her mid-flow, and a rather frazzled looking James appeared, his eyes flitting nervously about the waiting room. In fairness to him, we weren’t alone, there were four other people waiting to be seen, all of whom now took in the scene before them with apparent interest.
“James, darling!” Emma said sweetly, fluttering toward him, completely unfazed.
He looked to her like a rabbit caught in the headlights and I suddenly felt the urge to laugh, a bubble of nervous hysteria working its way up. It was fascinating to see him so unstuck.
The Ice Queen moved to stand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crane, but...”
James raised a hand at his receptionist, his face breaking into a smile that only those in the know would deem forced. “Easy, Julia,” he said, his other arm reaching out to welcome Emma into a brief embrace, “I always make time for Edward’s family.”
Julia looked from him to Emma to me, a fleeting look of skepticism marring her perfect features, but then she nodded and relaxed back into her chair, her eyes returning to her computer screen. “Very well, Mr. Crane, I will reshuffle your schedule.”
“Good, good,” he said, his hand slipping into the small of Emma’s back as he encouraged her into his office, his face now turning back to me.
I swallowed, my gaze hitting the stark, gray floor, unable to meet his eyes. This was it. No turning back.
Placing one foot before the other, I forced myself forward. I felt like every pair of eyes in the room followed me, could see right through me to the seedy deeds I had committed only days ago and those that were yet to come. I knew it wasn’t possible, that no one could know, but it didn’t stop my cheeks flushing shamelessly.
“James,” I greeted, my voice unnaturally high, my eyes still floor bound as I passed him by.
“Abigail,” he returned, his gravel-like tone reverberating through my ear with his nearness, my shoulder making cursory contact with the solid wall of his chest. The memory of him stripped bare launched to the forefront of my mind and I had to work hard to forget it, to focus on the present and keep my wits about me for the showdown that was about to occur.
Looking to Emma, I found my anchor, her composure and reassuring smile all I needed to continue on. She stood before a large, black desk, her crisp, white blouse and cream designersuit set off beautifully by the light streaming in from the glass walls that ran along two sides of the office. Her hair restrained in a sophisticated bun, her makeup, heavy to conceal her healing injuries, still managed to look natural, only a hint of pink gloss on her perfect mouth.
She was the epitome of professionalism, almost celestial. Such a contrast to our previous rendezvous with James, and no less appealing.
I heard the door click shut behind me as I came to stand alongside Emma and James cleared his throat.
“So, ladies, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked as he made his way around the desk, his hand gesturing for us to sit on the white leather chairs vacant for guests.
He looked to us both and adjusted his tie as he sat, the telltale beading of his brow giving away his true feelings on our arrival.
Emma was in no hurry to put him out of his misery. She smoothed her skirt beneath her and lowered herself gracefully into the chair, crossing one leg over the other and interlinking her hands above her knee. I followed suit, knowing full well I couldn’t carry off anywhere near as graceful an image, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try.
“Well, James, I see no point in us beating around the bush” she said eventually, her confident purr soothing my core. “Abigail has made a startling discovery which we are hoping you can shed further light on.”
