Love, Technically Read online

  Last night’s conversation had been all about her first college class. She’d sat in on a few night classes at the University of Chicago, since she hadn’t been accepted to the full certificate program yet. She was waiting on the scholarship information and to see if LightWave would foot some of the bill. But for now, she’d had three classes and loved it. The other people in the class were interesting and diverse, and everyone had one thing in common. They all wanted to move ahead in their careers and didn’t have the traditional degree to do so.

  For the first time in an educational setting, she felt at home and inspired by the professors. She was already seeing a difference at work too. Casey had her sitting in on all marketing meetings to take notes and set up projectors. This morning, she’d felt comfortable enough to offer an opinion. Of course, Sydney had been offering opinions from day one, not that Casey had followed up on any of them.

  But Michelle’s offering had been met with acceptance and approval. The team was going through with her idea! It was a high like she’d never known.

  “That was a good idea you had at today’s meeting,” Sydney said.

  “Huh?” She looked away from the spreadsheet she’d been working on. “Oh. Thanks.”

  Sydney narrowed her eyes. “Don’t come up with too many more of those or you’ll be getting the position.”

  Michelle imitated Sydney’s facial expression.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Sydney continued. “I’m only joking. Didn’t you hear? Casey got approval to open two new positions in the department. There’s room for both of us. It’s not like we’re competing for a position like we originally thought.”

  “There are two positions?” Why did it seem like Sydney was always one step ahead when it came to interoffice gossip and politics? She probably had the inside scoop from her father.

  “Of course, one of us would be the marketing administrative assistant and one of us the marketing coordinator.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Pretty much what it is now. The admin does more, well, administrative stuff, and the coordinator helps with the strategy and campaigns. And there’s probably a salary difference also.”

  Michelle didn’t have to ask which role Sydney wanted. But suddenly she found she wasn’t comfortable in the role she’d allowed herself. It was clear that Sydney, and maybe even Casey, saw her in the administrative role. And it was her fault for jumping up to go grab coffee and doing all of the more menial tasks. Casey was currently away from her desk, but as soon as she returned, Michelle was going to ask for a private minute with her to ask how to get the coordinator role.

  “Casey hasn’t made the decision yet, has she?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then we don’t know which of us gets which position, do we?”

  Sydney paused her typing and suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I assumed you were fine with the administrative role. I mean, you’re good at filing and stuff.” Her hand flew over her mouth. “Omigod, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She put up her hand to stop Sydney’s outpouring of apologies. “First of all, don’t apologize. There’s nothing wrong with being an administrative assistant. If that’s the role Casey wants me in, I’m honored to have the job. As it turns out, however, I would prefer the coordinator role. It would give me a chance to stretch my creativity and push LightWave to the next level.”

  There was a tense moment of silence as Sydney digested her words and their implication. “Well, I guess we’re competing, then.”

  “I guess so.”

  They both swiveled their chairs so their backs were to each other and went back to work, careful to put on a good show of hard effort. No Facebook, no personal e-mail, and no quick web surfing.

  Michelle refused to let Sydney’s words bother her. Nothing could bother her today. Sark was coming home tonight! He’d e-mailed that his flight got in around five and he wanted to pick her up at the office, take her for dinner, and then—the “and then” gave her the shivers every time she thought about it. Though Sark hadn’t said so, she knew tonight’s date would end at one of their apartments. In bed. She was in her prettiest dress with her sexiest lingerie hiding underneath. He wouldn’t know what hit him.

  A little before six o’clock, Sydney started the going-home dance, shutting down her computer, tidying her desk and grabbing her purse. “I’m going out with friends to grab drinks,” Sydney said, staring into a compact and fiddling with her makeup. “Do you want to come? Just because we’re competing for the job doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be friends. We are on the same team.”

  Michelle agreed with her, not that she could ever see herself sharing confidences with a girl who had a two-thousand-dollar Louis Vuitton bag slumped on the floor at her feet like it meant nothing. “Thanks for the invite, but I have a date tonight.”

  Sydney stopped with the makeup and looked directly at her. “Your guy is back in town?”

  She gave a simple yes, but knew her wide smile and pink cheeks revealed a lot more.

  Sydney laughed. “Someone’s getting luc-key tonight.”

  “Here’s hoping,” she muttered, then clamped her lips shut in horror at revealing something dirty to her coworker.

  Sydney shrugged into her coat, gathered her purse, and walked out. “Have fun tonight. Sleep late if you need to. I’ll cover for you.”

  …

  Sark stifled a yawn and leaned back against the leather of the backseat as the town car pulled to the curb in front of LightWave’s office building. He texted Michelle that he was here. He probably should go upstairs to get her. His mother would kill him if she knew he was essentially honking at the curb instead of ringing the doorbell. Unfortunately, if he popped his face in the office for even a minute, he’d be dragged into a hundred conversations under the umbrella pretext of “just a quick question.”

  No, he had to text Michelle if he wanted to get her alone, which he did. Very much.

  His flight had landed on time, but the length of this trip had meant checking a bag, which translated into much longer than desired before he could get out of the airport and on his way to Michelle. He sent off the text and closed his eyes as he waited for her. After a few minutes, he opened them and lowered the window to see her running toward the car. Her lips spread wide in an anticipatory grin.

  “Sark,” she called, dashing toward him and waving. He felt a wide smile spread across his lips and hung like a dog at the window, pulling back in time to throw open the door for her. She practically fell into the car, sliding on the black leather seat into his open arms. He held on tight, loving the way she felt against him.

  “Welcome home,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and leaning up for a kiss. He inhaled her presence with his eyes. She looked hot in a silky dress that did a lot for her curves with an amazing view of cleavage. He felt bad he was still wearing his wrinkled khakis and royal-blue collared shirt with the little LightWave Tech logo.

  “I’m going away every day if I get a greeting like that when I come home,” he said, and then there was no more talking for some time. Their mouths met in a deep kiss, telling each other without words how happy they were to be together again. Every kiss was weighted with meaning and an invitation for more.

  “Are you ready to leave, sir?” a distinguished man asked from the driver’s seat.

  His words threw a bucket of cold water on them. She leaped back from his embrace and plastered herself against the luxurious leather of the seat. “Oh my God.” Her cheeks went red. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Don’t be.” He directed his attention up front. “Dinner first, I think.” He turned to her. “Are you in the mood for Italian? Chinese?”

  She kept hold of his hand and studied his face. He knew he looked like shit, and probably had shadows under his eyes, and his clothes had the rumpled look of being worn too long. “Pizza. Delivery. Your place,” she said.

&nbs
p; He squeezed her hand. “Are you sure?” He hoped she meant it. Delivery and home sounded amazing, especially if she was with him.

  “Definitely. You look tired.” She did a little hand-squeezing of her own. “I want to be alone with you.” He didn’t respond, but sent up a prayer of thanks that she wanted the same thing he did.

  The ride to his apartment took entirely too long, since she was still self-conscious about snuggling with him in view of an audience. He wanted more of the touching, but had to settle for holding her hand and rubbing his thumb in slow circles across her palm.

  “It’s nice they give you a car to drive you home from the airport,” she said.

  “Yeah. Perk of the job.”

  She smiled at him almost nervously. He hadn’t stopped looking at her since she got in the car. He was relaxed back against the leather of the luxurious sedan, not talking, just watching her pretty face.

  “Did I say thank you yet for the flowers?”

  “Every night we spoke.” He smiled.

  “Oh.”

  He knew it was getting awkward and felt bad he wasn’t being a better conversationalist. They’d spoken for hours every night, but now that they were alone (almost), it was as if they didn’t know what to say. It was the sex thing, he guessed. It loomed between them like a giant barrier. He was exhausted, but not too tired to explore the physical side of their burgeoning relationship, and hoped she felt the same.

  Finally they reached his apartment, and she waited at the base of the steps while he got his luggage and tipped the driver. “Ready?” he asked, smiling at her.

  She gestured up the steps. “After you.”

  Once inside, she took care of ordering the pizza while he disappeared into the bedroom to change and wash up. She was waiting for him on the couch when he emerged feeling considerably fresher. The faded T-shirt felt as though it had been purchased for a smaller version of him. His biceps stretched the sleeve and a strip of his skin stuck out at the bottom.

  “You got the pizza sorted? Did they have pickles as a topping?” he asked.

  She laughed “No pickles. I settled for olives and mushrooms. They said about forty minutes until delivery.”

  He settled on the couch next to her. “Forty minutes, huh? How should we kill the time waiting?”

  “Hmm?” She kicked off her heels, scooched back, and propped her bare feet on his lap. “Good question, what shall we do for forty minutes?”

  He stared down at the delicate feet with sparkly pink toenails and turned off his CEO brain. He took advantage of the opportunity to touch her in any way, even if only her feet. The skin was silky smooth and her arches curled under his hand.

  “Mmm, that feels nice. My shoes were killing me today.”

  He glanced at the spindly heels lying in an overturned pile in front of them. “Maybe you should wear lower heels.”

  “Don’t be silly. I love my shoes. Professional women wear heels.”

  Having never paid much attention to the footwear of either sex, he kept quiet, figuring she was the expert. He kept massaging, hoping to erase the angry red lines on the top of her feet, as they both enjoyed a serene silence. He pushed her ankles a little farther toward his knees, away from his lap, to hide his growing arousal. Michelle, barefoot and lying on his couch, was all he needed for his body to be on full alert.

  Despite her sexy little question about killing time before the pizza, he didn’t want to make any assumptions. After two weeks of talking to her every night on the phone and missing her kisses, he was ready for the next step, but she’d said she wanted to take things slow. She yanked his good intentions away a second later when she suddenly shot forward to kneel on the couch, practically straddling him. “I missed you.” She balanced her hands on his shoulders.

  He grabbed at her hands. “I missed you, too.”

  “The past two weeks have been filled with highs and lows. The flowers and talking to you every night was a high. Dealing with Sydney was a low. I want to end today on a high note.”

  His heart leaped at her words and he pushed off the couch to tug her closer. Their lips met in the middle for a scorching kiss. “You’re worth three Sydneys. Don’t let her intimidate you. You wanted to live in Chicago, and you didn’t let anyone steal that from you. And now look at you, going to college at night. Sydney’s probably terrified.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she said between kisses.

  He was surprised she harbored self-doubt, when she always seemed so confident. “I do believe in you. You could get any job you wanted.”

  “Enough about jobs.” She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and leaned in for a deep kiss. “Can you reach the zipper of my dress?” she murmured against his cheek.

  “What about the pizza?” he remembered to ask.

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t want our first time to be rushed. I want to take my time with you.”

  Her smile shot straight to his groin. He wasn’t going to last until the pizza arrived. “Consider this foreplay.”

  The pizza was completely forgotten as he reached behind her to unzip her silky dress. She slid it over her shoulders to pool at her waist. He had a split second to admire the lacy bra that covered her breasts before it was tossed on the carpet. Her delectable breasts were at eye level. He went with instinct and leaned forward to lick a nipple.

  She moaned and threaded her fingers through his hair. Her hips found the erection he’d been trying to hide, and ground down on him, eliciting a groan from both of them. He switched his attention to her other breast while a tiny part of his brain pinged and tried to remind him a pizza guy would knock any minute, and naked was a bad way to open the door.

  He mentally shushed the brain cell and continued the love play. He cupped her bottom to hold it tighter against him.

  She pulled back and smiled down at him. “Sark, I want you.”

  He returned the smile and started to stand, holding her against him, but she placed a hand on his chest. “Where are you going?”

  “The bedroom?”

  “No. Right here,” she said, pushing him back onto the couch and grinding into him again. “The bedroom’s too far.”

  He glanced at the roughly ten feet to the bedroom door. Yep. Too far. He turned his body so he was lying horizontal on the couch, taking her with him to cover him like the sexiest blanket he’d ever had.

  “Kiss me,” she gasped, and he hurried to comply. Her mahogany hair fell around them like a curtain, blocking out everything else in the apartment except their lips. They continued kissing and undulating their bodies against each other until he needed more. They both needed more.

  Her hands pushed under his T-shirt to circle soft fingers around his nipples, but it only served to call his attention to his overly heated body temperature. “I want this off,” he muttered. Michelle sat back as he tugged the shirt over his head. While he took care of the top, she planted tiny, hot kisses on his abdomen, heading lower. He pulled her back to his bare chest.

  The feel of her full, bare breasts against his naked chest nearly burned him alive. His tongue lavished attention on the prettiest pink nipples he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. She kept running her hands over the muscles in his abdomen. Who knew mountain biking had such unexpected perks? He vowed to visit a gym or do a gazillion sit-ups daily if Michelle liked the defined lines of his six-pack this much. His hands cupped her ass, and he let a finger dip into the elastic band of her silk panties.

  Her hips ground against his erection, and his vision blurred. The feel of her body against his was better than flying down a mountain on his bike, wind whipping past.

  “I love your body,” she murmured against his skin. “So strong.” Her palms skated across his pecs, down to his abs. He hissed in a breath.

  “Love yours too,” he managed.

  It seemed they’d barely started kissing and touching when an invasive knock interrupted. The pizza.

  He carefully lifted her off him. She stood and ran t
o the bedroom holding one arm across her chest and one hand clutching at the dress around her hips.

  Thank goodness I still have my pants on. He stalked to the door, slipped a fifty out of his wallet, opened the door wide enough to grab the pizza, shoved the overly large bill at the startled delivery guy, then slammed the door. He tossed the hot cardboard box onto the high counter of the kitchen. “Michelle,” he called. “He’s gone.”

  “In here,” she called back.

  “With the pizza?”

  “Definitely.”

  He did the mental math. Pizza + bed + naked woman = Genius! With the pizza box in one hand and a roll of paper towels in the other, he burst through the bedroom doorway to find Michelle curled under the sheets on his bed. A bed that hadn’t been slept in for two weeks, and hopefully wouldn’t be tonight. Her dress lay in a crumpled pile on the floor next to the bed.

  They greeted each other with warm smiles. “Put the pizza box down,” she invited. “And take off your pants.”

  He stared at her for a minute, not sure he’d heard correctly.

  “It’s only fair,” she said. “I’m in underwear. You should be also.”

  He liked her thinking. He set the pizza box on the foot of the bed, not caring about grease stains on the comforter, and stepped out of his pants, well aware his erection was straining out of his boxer briefs. Hurriedly, he sat on the bed, tucking the covers around his hips. She leaned over to reach for the pizza, and he stared as her round delicious breasts peeked out of the sheet she’d wrapped around her torso.

  Her gaze met his. “Hungry?”

  For her? Hell yes. He nodded.

  She deliberately misunderstood him, and handed him a slice of pizza on a folded paper towel. The cheese burned his tongue, but he kept chewing. Bite and chew, bite and chew, until his slice was gone.