Love & Risks - A Rich Prick love story

Chapter 15 - Eden

I step aside and allow him to enter. I close the door behind as Wes steps inside and practically crowds my small kitchen. He rests the take-out bags on my kitchen counter and turns to me.

"Would you like to eat first or get straight to work?" He asks.

"Both!" I answer him, turning and leaving him alone. I enter my living room and gather up all the scattered papers, and charts, along with my wine glass and join him in the kitchen. I enter to find that Wes had found his way around my kitchen with ease, although with every twist and turn he seemed to bump into the features of my matchbox kitchen. I place the files, and my wine glass on my small two-seater dining table. I take the moment to enjoy the view.

How the hell was it possible for a man to look just as beautiful in a customed made suit, as he did a pair of jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt. As he reaches up to remove two plates from the cabinet, the hem of his t-shirt catches on the edge of the counter and rips. His eyes fall to the spilt material, and I hold back a giggle, realizing that he wasn't used to a living space this small. With having grown up in mansions, penthouses and all the other luxuries he'd indulged in.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you but the counters, as you can imagine, are pretty old." I say, finding myself reaching out and gripping the torn material between my fingertips.

"It's ok! It's just a t-shirt." He reassures. The soft cotton fabric tells me that although it was just a t-shirt, it probably cost more money than any t-shirt I ever owned.

"I've ripped a lot of good clothing in here." I say, still mindlessly toying with the ends of his shirt.

"Really? How did you remedy that?" He asks. I shrug my shoulders and look up at him.

"I started walking around naked." I blurt out, almost instantly hating my admittance. Embarrassed, my eyes fall to his torn t-shirt that was still resting between my fingers. Shit, what the hell was I thinking? The words were out, and it was too late to take them back. I swallow down for what seemed like the hundredth lump in my throat that day and glance back up at him. His glare is intense, sending sparks throughout my body, causing my brain to short circuit. I feel completely under his spell, my heart rate begins to pick up, thudding so loudly in my ears that I wondered if he could hear it. I take a small step back, needing to put some space between us. Wes reaches out and wraps his large hand around my forearm, pulling me against his hard frame. I hold my breath, as the air in the room grows thick.

Damn I needed wine. Or was it his cock? Maybe both? No! What I needed was to rewind the last five minutes and pretend that I wasn't home when he ranged my doorbell. Although the dull ache between my thighs reminds me that of the two, wine wouldn't subside the ache that was there.

I wait, with my body pressed against his. Breathing the same air as him. I grip the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling it taut against his shoulders and arms. I hold on to his t-shirt as if it were my only lifeline to force me to do the right thing. He leans forward, as I pull his torn t-shirt tighter and tighter. The smell of aftershave and soap, all but drugs me.

I can't do this.

I shouldn't do this.

He's my boss for Christ-sake. His name was written in bold white letters on the coffee mug that I'd drank coffee from every morning. It was a welcome gift from the company along with, a few other items. I didn't want to be the girl who'd slept with her boss, even though the option to do the right thing seemed to fade from reason.

I lean on my toes, my body working against me despite my feelings of his betrayal this morning. I close my eyes as Wes leans forward, waiting for his full lips to press against mines. A loud slam causes us both to jump and break apart.