She’d placed careful emphasis on the word “handling.”
“Are you asking if I’m going to have to fuck the subs?” Alex asked.
The rest of the men were watching them like they were a really well-played tennis match, their heads swinging back and forth between them.
“Is it too early for popcorn?” Adam whispered to Jake.
“Shh,” Jake hissed back.
Well, she’d started it. And they were a weird little family. If she wasn’t the one on display, she would have been sitting right next to Adam watching the scene play out. She was kind of used to doing her therapy in public and half naked. It was the way of their little world. “Yes, I’m curious about whether or not you’re going to screw half of Florida.”
Oh, she’d scored a hit with that one. A muscle in Alex’s jaw twitched up, a sure sign he was pissed. And his eyes narrowed and she just knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth would hurt like hell. “No, Eve. Just one. I’m going to be running very specific scenes with one sub. I’m taking a sub from Sanctum in with me. She’s a police officer so she understands undercover. I talked to her last night and she’s agreed to use her vacation time to come with me. I’ll only have to fuck her.”
Wow. Getting kicked in the gut would be way worse.
He frowned. “Eve, I shouldn’t have told you like that.”
She shook her head. “No. I was vicious and you responded. I understand.”
Getting Michael Evans was more important than anything. It always had been, and he wouldn’t share it with her. She stood up. She wasn’t needed here. Not at all. “I’ll let you finish up without me since I’m not involved in this op. I’ve got psych profiles to work up anyway. If you’ll excuse me.”
She got up, taking her coffee with her. Low-fat latte, no cream. That was her life now. Yep. She’d chosen this. If she was going to work up a profile on herself, she could write page after page. PTSD. Control issues. Just on the right side of OCD.
The subject is mired in the tragic events of her past. The subject is unwilling to even think about moving past her own pain and is content to remain passionless because she is afraid her passion was what cost her in the first place. She fears another loss of self though she can’t stand the person she’s become.
Subject will now die and be found in her spotless apartment weeks after her lonely demise without so much as a cat to witness the event because they shed on her pristine rugs.
In this therapist’s opinion, subject needs to get her shit together.
Yeah, she probably shouldn’t evaluate herself. She got damn snarky when she did that.
“Eve.”
She’d almost made it to her office. She didn’t turn around because she was pretty sure those pesky tears were starting up again. “It’s fine, Alex.”
She tried to step into her office, but he followed her, slamming the door shut behind him.
“You don’t really have a right to complain about where I sleep.”
She turned, no longer caring what he saw. “You’re on the wrong side of that door.”
“I don’t want to leave like this,” he said. His fists were clenched at his sides.
“Then don’t go. Let Ian handle it. He can play this role.”
“I can’t do that.”
There was another solution to the problem. “Then take me as the sub. If it’s going to be so easy to fool them, then I can put on a dark wig, and we both know how much weight I’ve lost and that I certainly carry myself differently.”
His face went stony. “I will not take you.”
She could be stubborn, too. Anger lit inside her. “Then you’ve made this decision and you should leave my office. You should also know that I won’t be here when you get back. I’ll find another job. Hell, I’ll find another city, and then neither one of us has to go through this again.”
His hands came out, reaching for her arms and dragging her close. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“And I don’t want you to go.” She needed to push him away. Right now. Just shove out at him and get him out of this office before you do something stupid. Insanely stupid. And stop looking at his lips.
Her eyes weren’t listening. God, he had the most gorgeous lips. They were full and sensual, and when he smiled, he could light up a room. Alex loomed over her, every inch of his six and a half feet a testament to pure male beauty, from his golden brown hair to those deep green eyes, to a body she wanted to touch but couldn’t allow herself to.
He pulled her closer. “I don’t want any other woman. You’re the only one who does this to me.”
He rubbed his cock along her belly, and she nearly groaned. He was so hard. Long and thick, his cock was as perfect as the rest of him. She couldn’t help it. She moved against him. No matter what came between them, she could never hide her response. She could control the interaction, but she craved him. Every minute of every day, she wanted Alexander McKay inside her.
Even though they were standing in her office and the rest of the team was just a couple of doors away, her whole body had softened, preparing to welcome him inside.
“Let me kiss you.” He dipped his head toward hers.
She turned away. This was one of the things she’d wanted to change about their contract, but she couldn’t do it now. Every reason she’d had the contract written in the first place was back in play. He was bent on pursuing revenge and leaving her behind.
“Damn it.” His hands shifted, one arm moving under her legs. He lifted her up easily, his face harsh as he looked down at her. “Then I’ll take what you’ll give me. You’ll allow me to kiss you somewhere else, won’t you, Eve?”
He laid her out on her desk. He didn’t have to move anything because she kept her desk as pristine and free of clutter as she kept her life. Everything had its place and she kept it there with a brutal proficiency.
Her back was settled against the desk and she knew she should protest, but he was already moving, shoving her skirt up and pulling at the thong she wore.
“I fucking hate these things, but that’s why you wear them, isn’t it?” He growled the question as he ripped the little silk thong off her.
And she couldn’t deny it. It wasn’t really because she knew he hated them. It was more a case of needing to take her identity back. Alex had forbidden her to wear underwear when they’d been married, and for a long time after they had divorced, she hadn’t been able to stand the feel of them against her skin. She’d been filled with a perverse need to prove she was in control of what she wore, the same way she’d been with food. Alex had demanded she indulge, so she took control and portioned out what she was allowed.