KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4) (61 page)

After a while, he pushed me back against the mattress, a hungry look in his eyes as he tugged at the strings on either side of my bikini bottoms. They fell easily from my body, exposing me completely to his gaze. He didn’t seem disappointed. And then he was braced over me, his lips tugging at my bottom lip. I ran my hands over his ribs and back, my body slowly remembering what it was like to be touched by a man. But his touch was so different from anything I had known before. He knew what he was doing. There was none of the awkward fumbling that often came with a first time, or an only-done-this-in-the-back-of-Daddy’s-car time. It was as if his touch was familiar with my body even as he discovered it for the first time. He seemed to know exactly where to touch me to make me moan, where to touch me to make me shiver. His mouth on mine was like all the best tasting foods in the world touching my taste buds all at once. His fingers moving over my inner thigh, searching for my swollen clit, was like the anticipation that was always better than the moment of satisfaction. Only, this time, satisfaction was just as sweet.

I arched my back as his fingers found my entrance, sliding inside of me with a lovely pressure that was only a taste of what I knew would soon be coming. But then he pulled away, a slight chuckle falling from his lips when I moaned in protest.

“Someone’s ready,” he said softly against my ear.

“Please,” was my only response.

And that made him groan.

He slid his finger inside of me, pressing so deep that the heel of his hand ground against my clit. My breath seemed to stutter in my chest as I again writhed beneath him, moving my hips against him at the same moment my back came off the bed. I twisted away from him, his lips grazing my shoulder as he watched the pleasure force my body to take over all my senses. When I lay back down, he nibbled at my jaw, as he slowly removed his finger once again.

My mouth opened to beg when I felt his knuckles brush against my outer lips. And then his head was pressed against my opening, the hunger in his eyes transforming his handsome face into something even more beautiful. And then he was sliding slowly inside of me, his shaft touching things that I don’t think have ever been touched. My senses came alive as if someone had set a firecracker off inside of me, my muscles wrapping around him like they were determined to never let him leave. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him as close against me as I could. And then we both lay there, just enjoying that first moment, waiting for our nerves to stop going haywire, threatening to push us off that cliff a moment too soon.

When he began to move, all I could think about was him, the way his skin felt pressed against mine, the way his lips tasted against mine, the way his hands felt on my hips, my breasts. And then I couldn’t think. It was all sensation, all about the little sparks—millions and millions of them—rushing up and down my spine and deep in my lower belly. They built to a crescendo like a great symphony piece, rising and rising until I thought I couldn’t take it anymore. And then the moment of climax, that moment when the pleasure couldn’t rise any higher and something finally had to give.

I cried out. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to. And then his voice rose to the same level, a bellow that announced his own jump over the cliff, his cock swelling and pressing even deeper inside of me. I wrapped myself around him, my legs around his waist, my arms around his ribs, holding him as we both rode the wave.

When it was done, he rolled onto his side, and I followed without asking, without waiting to find out if he was the cuddling type. I just crawled into his arms and snuggled against his chest, my fingers again tracing those letters that covered his ribs. And then the exhaustion that had been following me around since I left college became more than I could ignore. I was gone before we could say more than two words to one another.

Jason

“Did you like your surprise?”

I bit back a groan, glad Justin couldn’t see my face.

“That was interesting.”

“Yeah? Was the girl cute?”

“You could say that.”

“Good. It wouldn’t hurt you to look at something other than your own boring mug once in a while.”

“Yeah, well, thanks little brother. I’m sure it was well worth whatever you spent on it.”

“I just wish I could have been there to see it.”

No. No, you don’t.

I set the phone back on its cradle a moment later and sat back, aware that there was a pile of work I needed to get to, but not really much in the mood to look at it. I fell asleep last night with a beautiful woman cradled in my arms and woke this morning to the same empty bedroom I’d been waking to since I moved in there. I then I get a call from security informing that some guy caused a ruckus last night at the front gates, wanting to get inside and rescue her from me. It left me wondering what her story really was.

Not that I regretted a moment of what happened last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about the way she looked curled up inside of that godawful cake—that was, incidentally, still sitting in my foyer—the way she looked when she stepped out of it. Talk about the top ten birthday gifts of all time. She was definitely right there at the top.

I could still smell her on my hands when I woke. I didn’t want to wash her away.

“Philips and Collins are here,” Shelly said, as she walked into my office.

For the second time, I bit back a groan. Time to get to work.

“Send them in.”

The two men walked in, both dressed casually in jeans and t-shirt. They looked respectful, but nervous as they approached my desk. I stood and shook their hands, then gestured for them to take a seat.

“I suppose you’ve noticed that Mr. Thomas is gone.”

They exchanged a quick glance. Then Collins—
what was his first name?
—looked me square in the eye.

“There have been some rumors.”

“What are they saying?”

“That he was screwing up some of the accounts and that there were client complaints about him.”

I clasped my hands in front of me. “Mr. Thomas was embezzling from the company and making it look as though it was your fault.” I gestured vaguely at the two of them. “Both of you.”

Again they exchanged a glance.

“We weren’t aware—” Philips began to say.

I again made a vague gesture. “I know it wasn’t you. Mr. Thomas has been dealt with. But that leaves a vacancy in your department.”

There was eagerness in Collins eyes. But Philips—Denis, I thought his first name was—seemed cautious. I liked that.

“The reason I asked the two of you up here is to get ahead of the rumors and to find out what your opinion of your department is. Are there things that could change to keep this sort of thing from happening again? Personnel that you think are not living up to their job description? Other teams that work together better than others?”

“Well,” Collins began, “I think—”

“I’d rather hear what Mr. Philips has to say.”

Philips’ eyes widened. Collins shot him a glance, and he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable as he readjusted the way his leg was crossed over the other.

“I think the department could use better oversight. Right now, things are pretty much, ‘Do as you please.’ If we had a little more structure, a little more accountability, I think things would run much smoother.”

I nodded. “And how do you think we should go about doing that?”

Philips shrugged. “Removing Thomas is a good step. Perhaps a stronger leader would be beneficial. Someone from the outside who doesn’t have preconceived ideas about the creative teams.”

“I would disagree, Mr. Brooks,” Collins said. “I think the department would be better run if someone from the inside were promoted. There would be less upheaval in that instance.”

I inclined my head. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll take that under advisement.”

I stood up, indicating that they should go.

Philips immediately stood and shook my hand. Collins hesitated. I looked at him, and he seemed intent on saying something more. But then he changed his mind. He stood, shook my hand with a limp touch, and followed his partner out the door.

Shelly stepped inside as soon as they were gone.

“What do you think?”

“Call the headhunters. I think we’d be better off bringing someone in from the outside. I want to shake up that department, change a few policies, and make sure nothing like that is even a possibility in the future.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Shelly?”

“Yes?”

“I want to talk to the head of accounting. I want to know why no one even questioned these bills before they went out.”

Joey

“You’ve got to tell me what happened yesterday. Why did Brooks call you up to his office?”

I shook my head as I poured more sugar into my coffee. I’d seen the questions in Lesley’s eyes the moment the call came yesterday, but it was close enough to the end of the day that she was gone before she could pump me for answers when I returned to my cubicle. But now that Mrs. Constantine had done her walk by and everyone was busy with the day’s work, she wasn’t going to let it go.

I’d already spent the morning answering questions. Rosie was frantic, pacing our living room when I walked in a little before dawn this morning.

“You never called,” she announced, the moment she laid eyes on me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Rahul called me at two o’clock in the morning, said he tried to go back and pick you up because you never texted him either, but they wouldn’t let him through the gate.”

I’d forgotten I was supposed to text Rahul; I forgot that I was supposed to call Rosie and Jackson for a ride.

“I took a taxi,” I said lamely.

“Joey,” she said, grabbing my arm as I tried to walk past her and go up to my room, “we were scared. We had no way of knowing what’d happened to you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did he hurt you?”

I looked hard at her, surprised for reasons I couldn’t even begin to express that she would ever suggest such a thing. With a good night’s sleep and the reality of what I’d done—I couldn’t believe I’d done half of what I did!—I was filled with so many regrets I couldn’t shake this sinking feeling that was following me around. But to suggest that he would hurt me just seemed too far over the line of the ridiculous.

“Of course not, Rosie.”

“Then what happened?”

“You want to know the truth?” I looked at her, feeling a little guilty for the steel in my tone, but unable to get up the enthusiasm for an apology. “I fell asleep inside that damn cake.”

“You’re joking!”

“No, I’m not.”

She stared at me for a second, and then she burst into gales of laughter.

I groaned. “Thanks, Rosie. Not only do you set me up to humiliate myself, but then you laugh.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, but she couldn’t stop the laughter.

I just left her standing there, doubled over with her giggles.

And now…I was just waiting for the ax to fall. I couldn’t imagine Mr. Brooks would let me stay after what happened last night. How unprofessional could I have been? I mean, he kissed me first, but I was the one to take off my bikini top. I practically threw myself at him, begging him to take me to bed. And he did and it was…a blush warmed my cheeks. But when I woke this morning and found him lying there sleeping soundly, his gorgeous body on display for my touch—and I wanted to, I really wanted to wake him and see if the second time was as good as the first. But I was afraid if I did, something would have changed in the light of day.

And he was my boss. There really was no way to get around that.

“Earth to Joey,” Lesley said, waving her hand in front of my face.

“Sorry.”

“What happened yesterday? Why did he ask you up to his office?”

“He had a question about an estimate I did last month.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I heard a rumor that Mr. Thomas got fired last night.”

My eyebrows rose. “The supervisor in the creative department?”

“Yeah. And he’s been with the company since it began.”

Everyone knew that. That’s why when there were rumblings of how unfair it was that we had to be in our cubicles exactly at nine and he got away with not coming in till noon and then taking long lunches. Even down here in accounting the rumors ran rampant about Mr. Thomas. Everyone just assumed that it was his friendship with Mr. Brooks that kept his job safe. But, apparently, that was no longer true.

I found myself thinking about the exhaustion on Jason—Mr. Brooks’—face last night. No wonder. I think I would have been a mess if I’d just had to fire a friend.

“Heads up,” another of the assistants said, sticking her head into the breakroom where we’d been chatting. “They’ve called Mr. Fredericks up to the top floor.”

I bit my lip, fear washing over me, as I found myself wondering what was going on. Logically, I knew it probably had something to do with the bills and estimations he’d shown me yesterday. Mr. Fredericks was the head of the department. It would be logical for Mr. Brooks to want him to answer to the discrepancies. But illogically, I was afraid it had something to do with last night.

Was he telling Mr. Fredericks to fire me? Was he afraid to do it himself because of sexual harassment laws? How long would it be before I had to take that walk of shame down these hallways?

I went back to my desk even as Lesley shot more questions at me. I half expected Mrs. Constantine to be waiting at my cubicle with the proverbial pink slip. But she wasn’t. So I did the only thing I could do. I got back to work.

Rahul texted me a little before lunch. In all the rush to get to work, I forgot to send him an apology.

You okay?
was all the text said. That made me feel even worse than I already did.

I’m sorry,
I wrote back.
Should have texted you sooner.

No worries. Just glad you’re okay.

I really felt like a heel. He was a nice guy. I hated that I’d put him in a bad place.

I made a note to myself to make him a cake. It wouldn’t fix what I’d done, but maybe it’d soften the blow a little.

I ate lunch at my desk, snaking on a bag of potato chips as I worked through my list of requested estimates for the day. I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until Lesley poked her head over the edge of the barrier between our cubicles.

“Constantine’s coming.”

I just nodded, assuming it was the regular after lunch cubicle check. Rumors continued to fly all morning, but I’d kept my head down and ignored most of what I heard. It was at the back of my mind, but work kept the worry at bay, so it was work that I concentrated on. But then there was a rap on the edge of my cubicle.

“Ms. Forman? Your presence has been requested upstairs. Again.”

I looked up. “Excuse me?”

Mrs. Constantine’s normally severe expression became even sourer.

“Mr. Brooks’ office called down and asked that you go up immediately.”

My heart started to pound, a little pain forming just under my breastbone. I immediately stood, pushing my cellphone into a tight pocket on my skirt. As I began to pass Mrs. Constantine, she grabbed my arm.

“What is your role in all this?” she asked in a low whisper.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mr. Fredericks was fired this morning. Surely you heard about that?”

I couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d told me the sun had vanished from the sky.

“I wasn’t.”

“They call you up there yesterday for the first time in the year you’ve worked here, and today the head of the department is fired. And now they’re calling you up again?” Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell me that’s just a coincidence.”

I blushed because I knew it probably wasn’t. But I had no idea what had caused Mr. Fredericks’ dismissal.

“Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t think I can. Mr. Brooks—”

“Fine,” she said, her tone sharp enough to cut through steel. “You better go.”

I walked past her, aware of her eyes on my back. But hers weren’t the only ones. I felt like a fish in a glass bowl.

I was getting fired. I knew it.

At least he was going to do it himself. I think it would have been worse if he’d had someone else do it.