Crossing the Line Read online

Something grew between them.

  Something thick with anticipation. Her heart thudded faster. In her fist the phone had become heavy as a brick. Her nipples had gone tight and hard as she stared him down. Her breath caught, watching him give in to her.

  Without another word, Jamison turned to his food and picked up the fork. He stabbed a bite of eggs and chewed them slowly. Silent. Caite set the phone between them on the bar, where he could easily reach it if he wanted to, and again Caite wondered if he’d take it. She would’ve, if it had been hers. But Jamison only ate, using the thickly buttered toast to push the eggs onto his fork.

  “It’s good,” he said in a low voice. “Thanks. I was really hungry.”

  “I know you were. You didn’t eat much at dinner, and if you don’t eat every few hours, you get really cranky.”

  He paused with the fork halfway to his mouth, then set it down. “How...?”

  “Look, just because you’ve barely given me a glance for months doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention to what goes on in the office.” Caite nibbled her toast for a second, then washed it down with sweet orange juice. “The yelling starts right around eleven-thirty and tapers off after lunch until about three. Here. You need to have some of this—it’s excellent.”

  She held up a scone and dripped the clotted cream all over it. But when she tried to hand it to him, Jamison shook his head. Caite waved it closer, tempting, but he wouldn’t be tempted.

  “I don’t eat that sort of thing.”

  “You should,” she told him, not putting it down. “Every once in a while, you need a little something sweet. Everyone does.”

  There it was again. That rising heat. That anticipation, the tension between them. Caite looked into Jamison’s eyes and didn’t let her gaze waver, didn’t put down the scone. She waited.

  “No, thanks.”

  She put the scone on the plate and licked a few drops of cream from her fingertips, watching the way his eyes followed the motion of her tongue. Her stomach tumbled. He was her boss. This was dangerous territory. But there was no denying that something was going on here. She glanced at the phone he hadn’t reached for. More heat filled her, this time centering between her thighs.

  Stupid, she told herself as she leaned over the bar to tug a silk scarf from a tangle of similar accessories she’d left on the dining room sideboard. This was stupid and dangerous, and she could lose her job.... She held the scarf aloft.

  “You need to learn to let go sometimes, Jamison.”

  He eyed her warily. “You seem to think so.”

  It was the perfect time for him to get up and leave. Closing in on 3:00 a.m., stomach full, no reason for him to stay. But he didn’t move.

  Caite drew the silk between her fingers, enjoying the smooth fabric on her skin. “Close your eyes.”

  Chapter Four

  Caite waited for him to scoff. Or sneer. But he didn’t. Jamison closed his eyes, and was that the slightest tremble of his lips she saw? The tiniest hitch of his breath?

  Her hands shook a little when she tied the scarf around his eyes and smoothed it onto his cheeks. It was an imperfect blindfold; if he tried hard enough, surely he’d be able to see. But Jamison didn’t move. Standing between his legs, Caite didn’t move, either.

  “Open your mouth,” she breathed, certain this time he’d have to deny her. He’d have to.

  But he didn’t. Jamison’s lips parted, the hint of his tongue making her want to lean in close and taste him. She didn’t, of course. Kiss her boss? Craziness, even if, dear God, he smelled so good this close that it made her knees a little weak.

  Caite took a fingerful of cream from on top of the scones and let it touch the center of his lower lip. “Taste it.”

  His tongue crept out. A shiver ran through her. His breath sighed out. She traced his lower lip again with the cream, this time adding a little more.

  “Again.”

  This time his breath shuddered out of him, and Caite put a hand on his shoulder to keep herself from having to sit. They stayed very close, neither moving. Below the blindfold, Jamison’s mouth looked even more lush and inviting.

  “When you can’t see,” she said in a low voice, “it’s so much easier to give up. Isn’t it?”

  His hands skimmed up the sides of her thighs to settle on her hips. She didn’t imagine the way his head tilted or his fingers tightened, pulling her a little closer. The heat that had been simmering between them became white-hot.

  Fuck this—she was going to kiss him.

  His phone bleated, then buzzed against the wooden breakfast bar. Jamison’s grip loosened. He pushed back from her a little, tugging at the blindfold to grab his phone. He didn’t look at her as he thumbed the screen and typed in his password.

  He looked at the text message, then at her. The cream had vanished from his mouth, which was good since nothing about his expression looked anything close to sweet. “Your girl Nellie just got herself arrested.”

  * * *

  It was actually a bonus, as far as these things went. For the company. A chance to prove that Wolfe and Baron could put a positive spin on negative situations meant that something bad had to happen first. So it wasn’t that Jamison was pissed that Caite’s new clients had gotten themselves into trouble.

  It wasn’t that at all.

  No, it was the memory of the way her fingertip had drifted over his lower lip. The taste of her mingled with the sweet clotted cream. It was knowing, deep in his gut, that her mouth would be as delicious. Her pussy even sweeter. It was thinking about how sleek the silk had been against his face, the darkness against his closed eyes. The press of his rock-hard cock inside his trousers.

  All of that had put him in the worst of moods, along with the lack of sleep and having to work on a Saturday. When the call came in, Caite had calmly begun handling it in a way that had impressed him, though he wasn’t willing to tell her so. Not yet. He’d been expecting to take over a bulk of work when Elise had the baby, but now with her on extended leave, having Caite take over her clients would relieve him of a lot of work and stress...and perversely, he wasn’t willing to let that all go. He’d worked too hard to build Wolfe and Baron not to cling to it. Not even if Caite Fox had her head on straight and seemed to know what she was doing. With everything.

  Again his cock throbbed as he thought of how she’d taken his phone. The way she’d known so much about him already, anticipating what he’d need or want. The simple act of making him food when he hadn’t had to tell her he was hungry. Her quiet commands. Jamison closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the remembered touch of her fingertips to his lips.

  “Open your mouth,” she’d said, and he had, immediately. Without hesitation, responding to her steady confidence. The impression that she expected him to do as she said without question had been like putting a match to gasoline for him. She’d said it as if she owned him, and he’d let her.

  That was the worst part.

  “Shit,” he muttered, scrubbing at his eyes. Not enough sleep and not enough coffee.

  From the couch across from him, Caite stirred, and Jamison quieted. Watching her. They’d spent the past few hours putting the spin on the Nellie situation. They hadn’t had to post her bail or pick her up—her management team did that. But he and Caite had done their share of Connexing, tweeting and posting links to positive updates about the incident, along with putting out official statements. Would it work? Time would tell, but instead of a flood of angry social media chatter about the fact Nellie had punched a girl in the face, they’d managed to at least twist the story to suggest it had been in self-defense. The other girl had tossed a drink in her face, called her names. Something like that. Jamison was too tired to care.

  “Morning,” Caite said. She stretched like a cat, one limb at a time, and pushed her honey-blond hair back from her fac