Behind Your Back - Cameron Chelsea M.. Страница 17

She doesn’t even blush. Just looks back at me like she’s daring me to do it. Then she heaves a little sigh and gets to her feet. She stalks toward me and I’m pinned by her gaze, like a butterfly in a frame. I don’t like it. I know she can see how hard I am. Laughing ever so softly to herself, she drags one finger up and down my chest, along my tie. Her eyelashes flutter and she looks up at me through them.

And then she steps back and starts to walk toward the door, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Well, I’m sure you’re really busy and have a lot on your hands. I should get going.” Her hand is on the doorknob when I spring into action. I grab her by the shoulder and whip her around so she’s facing me.

“Don’t mess with me, Saige Beaumont. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.” I don’t mean to be this honest, but she has no idea what I’m talking about anyway. Her breath hitches and color fills her cheeks. Finally. I’ve gotten an involuntary reaction out of her. We stare at each other for a moment, as if we’re locked together and neither of us can move.

And then I find the will to take a step back and let go of her. Shit. Did I just ruin it? But she doesn’t run away. Instead she just turns the doorknob and waves.

“Call me. As soon as possible.” The door shuts and I want to dunk my head in a frozen lake. I pace around my office and pour myself a glass of ice water. I need to cool down. What is it about her that gets me so fired up? I don’t understand it. She doesn’t even have to do anything and I’m ready to yell at her or fuck her or yell at her before I fuck her.

I should call Cash and tell him I need out. I should back away from this assignment. But even as I walk to my desk to get out the burner phone, I know I can’t. I’m stubborn. Once I start something, I need to finish it. And I will finish it. I will take down her father. She’s just part of the process. A very enjoyable, confusing, frustrating part.

I call her as soon as I get home from work. It feels strange talking to her on the phone while I’m in my apartment. Almost as if she can see me and know what I’m doing and what I’m up to.

Saige will never come here.

“Hello?” she says, her voice low and sweet. She knows it’s me.

“Hello, Saige Beaumont. You told me to call you, so here I am, holding up my end of the bargain.” I lean back in the cracked leather recliner and sip a cold beer. I think I’m going to enjoy this. It’s easier to think on my feet when she’s not standing in front of me and messing with my mind.

“Well, I like that you follow through. That’s good to know about you.”

“I always follow through.” As evidenced by last night. She still hasn’t mentioned it and I’m beginning to wonder why. Is she embarrassed? Did I push her too far? Or is she waiting for me?

“I like that in a man. So many say they’re going to do something and never execute.” Good, it sounds like I’m earning her trust.

“My middle name is Reliable,” I say, making a joke.

“What is your middle name? Your real one?”

“I don’t have one. Just Quinn Brand.” Another lie. My middle name is Hudson, after my mother’s father. “And what’s your middle name?” I know it, but I have to ask anyway.

“Juliette. With two Ts and an E at the end. Not like the girl from the Shakespeare play.” I say her name in my mind, even though I’ve known it for a while. Somehow it suits her.

“So, what did you get up to after I left your office?” I’m not going to tell her the truth, that I was so hard I had to get myself off before I could get any work done.

“Oh, this and that. Money. Numbers. Boring math.” She chuckles, as if she knows I’m lying.

“I’m sure it was a terribly dull afternoon.”

“It was. And you?”

“Class.”

“Which ones?” I have her schedule memorized, but I don’t know much about the content. What she actually does.

“Well, I had drawing, which I hate. I signed up for it because I figured you can’t understand art until you know how to create it, so there you are. We had a nude model.”

“Male or female?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

She giggles, and it’s a sound I haven’t heard before. Adorable. Flirtatious. Young.

“Why do you want to know? Would it make you jealous to know that I was drawing a naked man?” No. Yes. No. Definitely not. She’s an assignment, nothing more. Jealousy isn’t part of the equation. But I can play it up for her.

“Maybe. Seeing as how last night I was the one with my cock inside you.” I take another sip of beer as I wait for her response.

“Well, I wanted to see if you were a man of your word. Nothing more than that. By the way, it was a female model.”

“You didn’t want me? Well, you should have said so.”

That makes her laugh.

“I can’t deny I enjoyed it. My dress, however, did not. It’s quite shredded and I don’t know how I’m ever going to explain how it got that way.”

“I’ll buy you a new one. It is my fault it’s ruined.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Next time I’ll wear something more durable.”

“Next time?”

“Next time,” she says with finality.

“What are you doing right now?” I ask. I just saw her last night. And today. But things are moving fast and I have to stay ahead of the game.

“Nothing. Just homework. Do you want to know what I’m wearing?” She dips her voice low, seductive.

“Maybe. Tell me.” There’s rustling, as if she’s shifting and I have an image of her lying in bed with a book in one hand, her hair loose and spread across the pillow.

“Should I tell you the truth or lie?”

“Tell me one and I’ll decide if it’s the truth or a lie.”

“I like that idea. Let’s see, I’m wearing a faded blue t-shirt that I got one summer when I was a camp counselor. It’s so thin that you can see right through it, but I can’t bring myself to throw it out.”

“And under it?”

“Nothing.” I close my eyes and I can see it. I was wrong about not having her here giving me a clear mind. Even imagining her is enough to muddle my thoughts.

“Bottoms?” I ask and my voice is rough.

“Just a pair of shorts from school. They have the eagle logo on the sides. And knee-high black socks with skulls on them.”

Well fuck me. I don’t know if this is the real or the fake outfit and it doesn’t matter.

“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes to see if you’re lying.” I hang up before she can say anything. I can’t wear what I’ve currently got on, so I head to my closet and pick something without even looking at it.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I shouldn’t be this eager. But I shut that part of my brain off as I grab the keys for the BMW.

“Did you run here?” she asks as she opens the door.

“You’re a liar,” I say, looking her up and down.

“Am I?”

“Those socks have rabbits on them. You said skulls.” Other than that one little slip, the rest of her is exactly as she described. Her eyes are free of liner and her lips are free of the red lipstick. She’s scrubbed clean and relaxed as she lets me in.

Her place is just like I thought it would be. Simple, but with little twists here and there. She has a skull on the table by the door for her keys, and a painting of a bleeding heart on the wall above the couch. The colors are mostly muted to show off the few bright accents.

“I did say skulls, didn’t I?” she says, looking down at the socks. “Huh. Anyway…” she starts to say, but I lean down and kiss her mouth.

“What was that for?” she asks when I pull away. I was able to restrain myself from throwing her over my shoulder and taking her to the bedroom, but just barely.

“I wanted to.” She runs a hand through her hair. Some of it is sticking up, like she’d been lying back on it and had just gotten up.