Conflict of Interest Read online

  She didn’t pull away, but uncertainty flickered in her eyes. Her voice wasn’t as strong as it had been. “What aren’t you getting? This is a bit more serious than whether or not a couple of people like the way I hold myself in public.”

  He knew that, so why couldn’t he admit it? Her words cut too deeply to ignore. He hated thinking he’d been the only one having fun. “I understand.” He didn’t move. “Are we done?”

  “I suppose so.”

  He leaned in, mouth near her ear. He forced his voice to remain steady, despite the almost overwhelming urge to kiss her long, slender neck. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  She inhaled sharply, but didn’t move.

  Disappointment mingled with his anger, and he took his seat behind his desk again. “I have work to do.” He turned back to his computer, not able to look at her anymore. “I’ll call you after school tomorrow.”

  She hesitated at the edge of her chair.

  “Is that all?”

  She didn’t answer, and seconds later his office door swung shut as she disappeared through it.

  A sharp pain gnawed his chest. Why did her dismissal—her ability to write the entire thing off so easily—hurt so much?

  Chapter 11

  Kenzie stripped off her suit and draped the jacket, top, and skirt next to the other outfits she needed to drop off at the dry cleaner in the morning. She’d spent the day catching up on paperwork, making sure everything was going okay, getting behind-the-scenes things like press releases in place for Scott and his company. Her eyes ached from scanning so many emails and filing them. She couldn’t believe she’d let her inbox get over ten messages.

  She grabbed a fitted T-shirt from her top drawer and yanked it on. She was reaching for a pair of shorts when her phone rang. The professional chime told her it was work-related. She rolled her eyes and slid her earpiece on before answering. “This is Mackenzie.”

  “How’s my favorite mistress?” Scott’s snide greeting added a layer to her exhaustion.

  At least that would make it easier not to fall into bad habits. She set her phone on the nightstand and flopped back on her bed, making sure the motion didn’t jar her earpiece loose. The conversation from the day before still echoed in her thoughts—he hadn’t even bothered to deny her accusations he wasn’t taking this serious—and she wasn’t sure if she was furious or just frustrated. “Something tells me you’re not a bowing, scraping, boot-kissing kind of guy.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  She didn’t have the patience for whatever he was up to. So why did she want to keep him on the phone, letting his voice tickle her ear? “I usually am with you. How was your thing?”

  “Fantastic.” His voice went flat. “I wore a shirt and a tie—a nice shirt, like almost no stains—and now not a single member of DECA wants to be a computer programmer when they grow up because I was so dry and professional they were all either passed out or were threatening to stab their eardrums out when I finished lecturing.”

  Was he serious? He couldn’t be. Please let him be joking. “How did it really go?”

  He snorted. “Great. Like it usually does. I swear on my series bible I didn’t do anything that would piss anyone off.” He paused. “Well, anyone in the industry. I may have broken a few mothers’ hearts when their kids went home and said they wanted to play video games for a living, but those kids weren’t going to be doctors anyway.”

  “Sounds like fun.” The corner of her mouth twitched, and she forced a frown back in place. She wasn’t enjoying this beyond a professional level. He’d been an ass, and she was still pissed off at him.

  “So.” His voice abruptly dropped in volume. “I’m sorry about the pictures that got out, and I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

  The apology caught her off guard. She wanted to believe it was because she didn’t think he was capable of admitting when he was wrong—that was easier than admitting he might not be the only one regretting what they’d said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I am worried about it. I promised you we’d keep the professional and physical separate, and I violated that trust.”

  She appreciated the unique combination of conceit and self-effacing humor he radiated without trying. Was she actually enjoying this conversation? Crap. “It’s done and over, and as long as we’re more careful about where we are when we step from one role to the other—as long as the line doesn’t blur again—it’s all good.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” His voice returned to normal, a hint of familiar joking sliding back in. “You know what else I’m glad to hear?”

  She furrowed her brow. “No?”

  “That I can finally take off this freaking tie. For the record, these things drive me nuts.”

  He’d actually dressed up; she was impressed. Still, she had to give him a hard time for complaining about something most people did by default. “Poor baby had to be professional for a couple hours today? Too bad I’m not there, or I could help you into something less restrictive.” Damn it, why had she said that?

  His throaty laugh sent a pleasant tremor through her, erasing the lingering strands of her irritation. “So not to change the subject, because I could listen to you talk all night about undressing me, but are you bringing anyone tomorrow?”

  The way he’d slid into the flirting and out again without a pause heightened the tingles moving over her skin. No reason to let him know that. “I was thinking I’d invite that guy I met at the bar the other night.”

  “I, uh…” He trailed off. “High-heels guy? Because, really?”

  So he wasn’t completely in control of the conversation. She smirked even though he couldn’t see it. “No, not really. My sister.”

  “The twin?”

  “She’s the only sister I’ve got.” She cringed when more of the bar conversation filtered through her thoughts. “You’re not one of those guys with creepy twin fantasies, are you?”

  “Maybe.” He quickly added, “No, not really. I’m kind of vanilla like that. Incest doesn’t do it for me.”

  The reassurance settled deep. Should she be enjoying this conversation so much? “Vanilla. Right. Because sex in a dressing room is tame.”

  “Exactly.”

  She paused, waiting for more, disappointment and embarrassment flitting through her when she realized they were suffering awkward silence syndrome. She needed something witty to say.

  “So.” His voice startled her. “What are you wearing?”

  The question caught her off guard. “T-shirt and panties.” Crap, why had she blurted that out? Why had he asked? She struggled to correct herself. “I just got home, and you called before I finished changing.”

  “Not at all what I meant, but it sounds a lot more fun than what I’m wearing. Maybe I should strip down so we match. Only seems fair, right? Less awkward?”

  Fantastic logic. She wanted to be bothered by it, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her face as teasing fantasies tripped through her thoughts. “Yes. You stripping down to your boxers so we can have a less awkward phone conversation sounds completely reasonable.”

  “You’re not convincing me.” A hint of teasing wove into his voice. “If you’d prefer, I could tell you if I was there, I’d strip your shirt off.” His voice dropped an octave. “Run my lips over your neck. Slide my hands up your sides.”

  She was grateful her bedroom window was open a crack because the flush flooding her entire body was raising the temperature by several degrees. She had been the one to demand they tone things down. She should change the subject. Except she didn’t want to. It wasn’t like anyone could take pictures of this. “Really?” Her question came out sultry and breathy. “Then what?”

  There was a long pause. “Hello?” she asked.

  “Sorry, I was trying to decide if this is a good idea.” Something unrecognizable tinged his response. Disappointment, maybe?

  She sighed. She didn’t want the conversation to end, but his pause had given her tim
e to think. After the lecture she’d given him the day before, she didn’t have any right to play like this.

  “Then again.” His smooth tone beat back her weak hesitation. “You’re still here, I’m still here, and no one’s watching.”

  “I don’t have anywhere else to be.” One more time wouldn’t hurt, right? Especially since they weren’t even in the same room. Anticipation was already pulsing through her at how wicked the entire thing was.

  “Is that an invitation?” He didn’t sound upset, just hesitant.

  Screw it. She could go back to being good tomorrow. “Just this once.”

  “Or this fourth time?” he countered. “Not that I’m counting. Promise me I won’t regret it in the morning. Or even better, that you won’t.”

  “I’ve never regretted it.” The honesty slipped out before she realized it probably wasn’t the best thing to tell him. “And this would be one hundred percent private.”

  “You make a convincing case, Miss Carter.” The way her name rolled off his tongue made her tingle. The professional, mocking tone he usually used was gone, replaced with a heavy seduction. “So where were we?”

  “You were describing how you’d ravish me if you were here instead of miles away.”

  His laugh was warm and deep. She closed her eyes, imagining him in the room with her. His voice had dropped an octave. “You do this gasping, moaning thing when I nibble your earlobe that kind of drives me wild, so I’d probably do a lot of that.”

  She did something that drove him wild. Her entire body tingled with not quite visualized fantasies and she moaned.

  “Just like that. I love that sound.”

  Heat crawled over her, and she ran her hand up her stomach. “Did you make yourself match yet?”

  “I’m lying on my bed in a pair of boxers, nothing else.”

  The image popped into her head, taunting her, and she sighed.

  “It’s not fair if I’m the only one saying what I’m thinking.” There was a hint of command in his teasing. “At least reassure me this is turning you on as much as it is me.”

  She was turning him on? She hesitated, having trouble forming the words. “I’m tingling, and aroused, and aching with the thoughts of what you can do with your fingers.”

  “Just my fingers?”

  “Not just. Everything else too.” She pushed her shirt aside, brushing the bottom of her own breasts with her fingertips.

  His throaty voice filled her thoughts. “I’m hard just thinking about sucking on your nipples. How they feel against my tongue, and the way you squirm under me.”

  She hesitated. The conversation was screaming over every nerve ending, but saying those kinds of things out loud was a line she didn’t know if she could cross.

  “We’ll have to work on the whole telling me what you’re thinking thing.” His voice was heavy. “Since I’m not there, are you touching yourself?”

  “Yes.” Her reply was breathy, soft. She squeezed her breast, gasping when she pinched her own tender skin.

  His breathing was ragged. “Tell me those moans are real.”

  “Very.” A hot ache called for her attention between her legs.

  His moan tickled her ear. “You know I’m stroking myself harder every time you say something new, right?”

  The confession increased her arousal another notch. That she could have that impact on him, just by talking, sent her into overdrive. “I do now.”

  “Tell me what you’re doing to yourself. What you’d want me to do if I was there,” he ordered.

  The outside world seemed to fall away, and she let herself sink into the sensation. It was as if only they existed, making it safe to say things she would never dream of vocalizing. “I do have this fantasy.”

  “I like the sound of that. Details?”

  With her eyes closed, she could almost feel his warm breath, his lips vibrating against her skin with each rumbling word. She licked her lips. “Of you pinning my arms over my head, holding me in place while you pound inside me.”

  His soft groan filtered into her ear. “There’s no way you’d let me get away with that.”

  “I would.” Her body tingled and screamed for more everywhere her hand touched. Her stomach, her thighs. “Especially when you growl. I’d do pretty much anything with that sound rolling through my skin.”

  His voice shifted, the same irresistible growl running through it. “Anything?”

  She arched her back, a whimper slipping out before she could stop it. “Drop to my knees, wrap a hand around your shaft, take you in my mouth.”

  “I like that a lot. What about putting on a show?”

  She hadn’t thought it could get any warmer in the room until he said that. Her “What?” was barely a squeak.

  “On your back, spread wide open, showing me how you really like it.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest, making it difficult to hear. “I couldn’t.”

  “No?” Teasing disappointment ran through his question. “You’re almost doing it now, right?”

  She swallowed. “It’s not the same. No one’s watching.”

  “Would it be so bad if I was?” Seduction lined his coercion. “I bet you’re lying on your comforter right now. Humor me. Tell me if it would be such a horrible thing if I were in the room with you.”

  She let the thought flit through her mind, and the heat between her legs screamed in response. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe it would be a bad thing?”

  Her voice was soft. “Maybe it would be okay.”

  His sigh sent tingles through her. His voice was coaxing, but didn’t leave room for argument. “Then it’s a shame I’m not there.”

  “Very much so.” She breathed the words, almost able to feel him hovering over her.

  “So you’ll have to tell me about it instead. I can’t forget how good you tasted in the dressing room. The scent of your perfume—just the memory of that screws with my head. What would it take to get you gasping like that again?”

  Okay, she could do the talking. No public audience. Still, she couldn’t get the image of him watching her out of her thoughts, and it heightened the moment to an intensity she wouldn’t have thought possible. “You’re doing a pretty good job already.”

  “Touch yourself.”

  She moved her hand down, dipping between her own folds. “I’m so wet right now.” She glided along her slit, lightly brushing. “My fingers are soaked.”

  “Put them inside you.”

  She did as she was told, squirming under her own touch, pumping in and out, and making sure he heard her moans and sighs. “It’s not the same as you being here,” she managed between gasps. “But it’s not bad.”

  “You’re still imagining me watching?”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t get rid of the thought, and it was making her mind short-circuit.

  “Play with your clit.” That hungry growl had invaded his voice again. “Show me how you like it.”

  She moved her hand back up, gasping in shock and pleasure when she brushed the swollen nub. “I won’t last much longer if you make me do this.”

  “Good.” His breath was heavy against the receiver. “Rub it hard and fast, I want to hear you come.”

  She did, stroking in small circles, feeling her climax build inside. She tried to keep the motion slow, but desire won out. As she peaked, she didn’t try and hold back the cries. Her hips thrust against her hands until her own touch was too much, and she shuddered as she pulled away.

  His breath was heavy in her ear, and she kept her eyes closed, imagining the heat brushing her skin.

  “Are you close?” Her voice was soft, coaxing. “Knowing how wet you made me. How hard I came imagining you watch me? How swollen and sensitive my nipples are from thinking about your tongue flicking over them? Pretending I’m there with you, stroking, sucking, pleading with my eyes for you to finish.”

  “God, yes.” His familiar grunts greeted her, stretching on for several seconds before nothing but
pants filled the line.

  She opened her eyes, her entire body relaxing. She licked her lips, a soft smile playing on her face, and waited for him to be able to talk again. The breeze from the window brushed her flushed skin, and she watched the patterns dance on the ceiling. Her voice was still breathy. “You’re a horrible influence on me.”

  “If I thought you were doing anything you didn’t want to, I wouldn’t ask.” The deep grumble was still there, soft and seductive. “But if you’re complaining…”

  “No.” She assured him. “Most certainly not.”

  He laughed—he was doing a lot of it that night, and it sounded wonderful. “Me too. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “Masturbation? Really? The tail’s been that good for that long in your life?” It felt good to be the one doing the teasing.

  “Phone sex. I can assure you I’ve been beating off since before I was a teenager.”

  “Typical guy. So, when was your first time?”

  “I—” He paused. “You’re serious.”

  The hesitation caught her attention. “I am now.”

  “You’ll laugh.” The uncertainty in his tone was out of character. He had so many layers.

  “I won’t,” she assured him. “But now you have to tell me, or I’ll make something up about it being with a Sears catalog.”

  “No. That would be normal.” He gave a nervous laugh. “It was a D & D monster compendium.”

  Her jaw dropped, and she was glad he couldn’t see her shock. “Dungeons and Dragons? You jerked off to a book with C’thulu in it?”

  “There was this drow queen, and she was hot, and I was young, and it wasn’t like my parents believed in things like Sears catalogs, and they hated that I gamed, so it was already taboo, and I wasn’t allowed to have an internet connection in my room at that age.”

  A snort of laugher slipped out. “I’m sorry.” She bit back her amusement. “I can’t help it. A black-skinned, dominant elf in a chainmail bikini.”