Undulate: Chapter 13

‘We need to talk,’ I bark at Maddy before she even has a chance to remove her coat on Monday morning. Ruth is, thank God, feeling better. My Saturday morning hang-xiety morphed into guilt and shame and all sorts of completely inappropriate fantasies about her over the course of the weekend, rendering me wrung out and sleep-deprived and incapable of making any sensible decisions this morning.

Except one.

I need to make this right. I’m a co-founder in this business, and she’s my employee. I’ve taken advantage of her twice, once while she was oblivious and once while I was under the influence and had her practically captive in my home. Oh, after she’d done me a massive favour and given up her Friday night to babysit my kids.

Neither is okay.

Neither can happen again.

She nods warily and shrugs her trench off, giving me a clear view of her stretchy black wool dress. Of the way it clings to her spectacular breasts, hugs her waist and finishes far higher up her thighs than is ideal.

I swallow as she rounds her desk and walks down the middle of the room to me. Our desks are arranged in a horseshoe with me at the far end. My back is to the rear windows and I face the open double doors that lead through to our main meeting room. To my left are Cal and Maddy. To my right, Rafe and Gen.

No one else is here yet. It’s just me and Maddy, that excuse for a dress, and some high-heeled little bootie things that show off far too much leg.

She truly is spectacular. And, based on my behaviour on Friday night, my body is as attracted to her in yoga pants and a hoodie as it is when she’s dressed like this.

Or when she has her little black dress pushed up around her waist, its tassels brushing her pussy, my reptile brain reminds me.

Jesus Christ.

I push my chair back from my desk and jump to my feet. ‘Let’s use the bar.’ The problem with this place is how open plan it is. Our team meeting room is the only proper space we have, and it’s not discreet enough for this conversation because the others will walk through it when they arrive. The private rooms in this building are private for a reason and kitted out with beds and God knows what kind of sex toys, and that is most definitely not the vibe I need right now.

Maddy follows me across the hallway uncharacteristically quietly. The bar is empty, clean, and sunlit, the low stools stacked upside down on the coffee tables. It smells unmistakably how most bars smell during the day. There’s a faint smell of stale alcohol which in this case is masked by the scent of those extortionate Baies candles this establishment goes through like water. Apparently they mask the scent of sex, so they’re necessary.

I perch on one of the green leather stools by the bar and gesture for her to do the same. She climbs elegantly up and swivels so she’s facing me. We’re just far enough apart to avoid our knees brushing. I glance down and confirm that hers are indeed bare.

‘I’m sorry for everything,’ I say. We need a clean slate, need to clear away any awkwardness immediately. It’s the only way forward. ‘I’m so sorry I foisted myself on you on Friday. I was drunk—it was unforgivable. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.’

She huffs out a laugh of disbelief. ‘You think that’s why I’m pissed off?’

I drink her in. She’s simply beautiful. Her makeup is light. Immaculate. Her eyes are huge in the morning light. After her angry reply to me on Saturday—which I decided to leave unanswered for fear of poking the bear harder—I expected fury. But the expression on her face seems more vulnerable than that.

‘I’m sure you’re pissed off about everything I’ve done,’ I say carefully. ‘I thought that was a good place to start.’

‘You were sweet on Friday,’ she says. ‘You were lovely, actually.’

If her idea of lovely is her boss drunkenly thrusting his erection against that private place between her legs while groping her and eating her face off, then her bar is low. I open my mouth to protest her adjectives, but she stops me.

‘I’m pissed off because you did something very intimate to me at the club without my having any say in it, when you knew damn well I’d want to know.’

‘I know,’ is my lame reply. ‘And I’m so sorry.’

‘I know this whole sex club thing is new to you,’ she continues, twisting the hem of her dress in her hands, which is very fucking unhelpful. ‘But you could have gone for any of those girls in the line-up. It wasn’t fair to do it to me.’

My face must register my horror, because she narrows her eyes at me.

‘What?’

‘I would never have approached any of them,’ I say. ‘Jesus. That wasn’t why I was there—I wouldn’t have just done that to a random person.’

Her eyebrows rise, and I backtrack.

‘I mean—no judgement here. I know you wanted it to be anonymous—that’s just not for me.’

‘Are you saying you came in to find me?’ she asks, her tone incredulous.

‘I came in because Cal told me I should dip my toe in the water,’ I start. ‘I was just going to have a look. But then I saw you, and I’d been thinking about what that dress of yours was covering up all night.’

Jesus. This is not an easy conversation to have at eight-thirty in the morning. I run my fingers through my hair in discomfort as she stares at me, waiting.

‘I couldn’t resist you. I was never going to go after anyone else in there,’ I finish. ‘I didn’t have eyes for anyone else.’

‘Did you consider doing the right thing and telling me it was you?’ she asks. ‘Letting me decide?’

‘Nope,’ I admit, shame flooding my face with heat, because it’s true. It didn’t even occur to me. I saw a window of opportunity and I went after it like the creep I am.

‘Because you thought I’d say no.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I wouldn’t have.’

Her admission has my jaw dropping open.

‘It’s true,’ she says. ‘I would have been totally gobsmacked, obviously. But I would have said yes to you doing whatever you wanted to me. Obviously.’

I’m reeling. I genuinely have no idea how to react. She’s pissed off I didn’t tell her who I was. Didn’t ask her permission. But she’s okay with my having brought her to orgasm with my tongue?

Her words have my heart rate ratcheting up, pumping blood to extremities it has no right engorging. But how the hell am I supposed to react when a stunningly attractive woman says I would have said yes to you doing whatever you wanted to me.

Whatever you wanted.

Fucking hell.

I’m only human.

‘I—um.’

‘Don’t forget, I was sober on Friday night,’ she says. ‘I knew exactly what I was doing.’

I stare at her. She’s giving me her blessing. Admitting she was complicit in our brief encounter on my sofa. That she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

‘Maddy.’

‘You seem a bit of a mess,’ she goes on airily. ‘I mean, I get it. You lost your wife—who’s beautiful, by the way. Like, really, really beautiful. And you seem to be nailing the single parenting thing, because the girls are gorgeous. Even though I have no idea how any of you are putting one foot in front of another.

‘But a word of advice? Either sit and grieve and allow yourself that, or move on and start hooking up. Don’t feel guilty about it. You don’t need to hide in the shadows and randomly go down on your colleagues in dark sex clubs. You should go out on dates. I’m sure there are lots of women who’d be all over you.’

I’d take her suggestion as an all-out brush-off if it wasn’t for the tremor in her voice, or the fact that her dratted hem-twisting is getting worse, or that she can’t look me in the eye.

‘It’s not general,’ I say. I need her to understand. ‘I’m not ready to move on—I can’t think of anything worse than dating.’

She frowns. ‘Then what the fuck were you doing in Alchemy?’

‘It’s specific. To you. No matter how fucked up my home life still is—and believe me, it’s a total shit show, no matter what it looks like from the outside—my brain is so fucking full of you I can barely hold it together. All I can think about is doing unspeakable things to you. The whole. Fucking. Time. So for the love of God, please stop fiddling with your hem, because I can’t look away.’

That has her attention.

I can tell she believes me now.

She must be able to hear the need in my voice. See the hunger in my gaze as it flicks between her face and thighs.

She stops twisting and wedges her hands between her thighs, squeezing tightly.

‘Jesus Christ, Zach. I’ve been at work for five minutes and I’ve already soaked my thong.’

Holy fucking shit. I am so out of my depth with this woman. I pant out a shocked laugh and wipe my hand over my face. ‘You can’t say things like that. Seriously.’

‘Um, hello? You’re the one who’s sitting there looking all conflicted and tortured and Hot Widower-y and telling me you can’t stop thinking about doing unspeakable things to me! How the hell else is my body supposed to react?’

We stare at each other.

I suppose she has a point.

Good God. I bury my head in my hands and groan.

‘You’re right,’ I say through my fingers. ‘Fuck, I’m a mess. I have no idea what to do—I shouldn’t have dragged you into any of this. I’ll—I’ll stay away and stop acting like a total creep.’

I sit there for a moment, breathing into my hands and willing myself to get it together, when I feel her soft, slim fingers wrap around one of my hands, peeling it away from my face.

‘Zach,’ she says softly.

I look up.

She licks her lip. ‘I’m not sure two consenting adults being insanely attracted to each other is the biggest problem I’ve ever heard of. Besides, luckily for you, I have a creepy boss kink.’

That earns a real laugh from me. She’s so sweet. She’s smiling at me, unsure. Watching for my reaction. Her eyes don’t leave mine as she lowers my hand to her knee.

‘Look. You’re touching me and the sky has not fallen.’

I grin and gently caress the silky skin.

‘Did you mean what you said?’ she asks. Her voice drops. ’That you want to do unspeakable things to me?’

I nod and bite my lip, watching her. Gauging her reaction.

‘And you think that would make you feel better?’

A grim laugh escapes me. ‘Madeleine, touching you would make any man feel better.’

Our eyes are locked. I don’t miss her breath hitching at my words. At my use of her full name. Her beautiful, elegant name.

‘You can feel further up,’ she tells me. She releases my hand and opens her knees slightly.

I swallow. The air is suddenly thicker, swirling with possibilities as I massage her knee. I keep my eyes on hers, my hand sliding up the impossibly satiny skin of her thigh until my fingertips nudge the hem of her dress.

‘Your thighs are… extremely alluring.’ I squeeze. ‘Just like the rest of you.’

We sit there like that for a moment, me practically frozen with disbelief at what I’m doing, and her quiet. Watchful.

‘No offence, Zach, but it seems to me you could do with a really good fuck.’

This woman leaves me speechless. I nod. ‘I’m sure you’re right. Not that that’s your problem,’ I add quickly.

Her fingers close over mine on her leg. She’s fucking grinning at me. ‘Good Lord, you’ve been out of the game for too long. Bless your little cotton socks. I’m saying you should do unspeakable things to me. Maybe it would help you work through some of your issues—not your grief, obviously. But your stress.’

I shake my head, trying to hold it together. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ I mumble.

She sighs and shifts on her chair. I think I’m pissing her off, but I’m not sure why. My fingers grip her thigh more tightly.

‘Zach. Look at me.’ She throws her head back and holds her arms out wide.

I look. Believe me, I look. She’s fucking gorgeous. And if she opens her legs an inch wider I’ll probably get an eyeful.

‘I’m going to spell this out for you. You can do whatever you want to me. Honestly. Just fucking use me. If you’re feeling shitty, or stressed, just come and find me and I’ll do whatever you want. Like, anything.’

I gaze at the shapes her lips are making when she speaks, and at her perfect tits heaving under that snug dress, and at the way the skin of her thigh has gone pale around the pressure points of my fingers. I’m in serious danger of losing all blood flow to my brain and falling off this damn stool.

Maddy’s offering me her body to enjoy, and use, and sate on with like I did the other night, except this time with her express permission. It’s impossible, obviously, but the mere thought of it is beyond heady. It’s intoxicating.

The thought of having her as my personal stress toy, spread out or bent over or on her knees just for me and my selfish gratification has my cock thickening into a fully-fledged erection. She glances from my face to my crotch. I expect a smirk, but she tugs her lower lip between her teeth.

‘Why?’ I ask uselessly.

‘Because,’ she says, ‘that’s my kink. I get off on being someone’s plaything. And we’ve established how fucking hot you are, and you’re like an unexploded bomb. I want to be the one you unleash all that angst and repression on.’

She says that last sentence with a touch of a whimper, and fuck, I believe her. Her beautiful eyes are growing glassy. Hooded. She nods at my hard-on.

‘I want you to make that my problem. I want to take care of it. I didn’t get anywhere near enough of your dick on Friday night.’

Jesus Christ.

‘This sounds like a great deal for me,’ I grit out.

She smiles. ‘If Alchemy was anything to go by, you’ll make it worth my while.’

Then she pats my hand, removes it from her thigh, slides down from her stool and smiles sweetly.

‘Let me know,’ she says, walking away from me.

I stare at her departing figure, at the firm globes of her arse and those cracking legs. She pushes open the heavy door and leaves without a backwards glance.