This time, she couldn’t quite bring herself to mind so much.
“Promise me,” he said, his voice rumbling through her, “that when I get up, you won’t go running out this time.”
“It’s my office,” she murmured, “so I have nowhere to run.”
He chuckled, but a moment later his weight eased. The emptiness when he withdrew from her made her moan, pressing her thighs together. It was as if her body missed him already, wanted him back, his thickness caressing her from the inside.
Moving slowly, carefully, she pushed herself up and tugged her clothing back into proper order. She was wickedly sore, her ni**les hurting from crushing and dragging against the desk. Her stomach somersaulted. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her with a claiming intensity that did terrible things to her. She couldn’t believe she’d let him do that to her. Push her down over the desk and…and just go at her like that.
Only she could believe it, because it had felt too damned good. Even though any of her employees could have knocked on the door at any moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a thing.
She swallowed and set her skewed glasses right. “Well. I’m going to need a new ledger book.”
If she expected anything, it wasn’t the deep, full-throated laugh that rose from him. There was a warmth to it that made her shiver and a certain…earthiness. Not what she associated with this sardonic, forceful man. Caught off-guard, she turned away quickly, fumbling with the scattered things on her desk. God, they’d moved the desk across the floor; it was now canted several inches on one side, and she was lucky her computer monitor hadn’t fallen off.
His laughter trailed into a chuckle. “Here. Let me help.”
He moved to her side, picking up her pencil cup and slotting a few Sharpies back into place. They both reached for an overturned picture frame at the same time; their hands bumped, but he got it first and flipped it upright.
Thomas went very, very still, looking at the picture with a sudden and almost terrifying blankness. The languid—albeit almost playfully awkward—warmth that had been brewing vanished.
“Brianna,” he said, spacing each syllable precisely, “who is that?”
The blood drained from Brianna’s face, leaving her dizzy. The picture was of her and Michael, the day of their wedding. He was trim and dashing in his tuxedo. She held her bouquet, smiling with such radiance she looked like a different person. She wore that frothy white dress that childhood said was supposed to make all a little girl’s dreams come true. No one ever told those little girls that past the dress were more dreams. Deeper dreams. Dreams that could so easily be cut short and taken away.
She snatched the picture away and turned it facedown. “It’s no one.”
His gaze moved to her hand. Without even thinking, she ran her thumb over the paler band of skin on her finger, the weight of the ring a strange absence. His eyes turned flinty.
“You’re hiding something.”
She turned her back on him. “No.”
“Liars are easy to spot, Brianna. What’s going on?”
“I’m not a liar!” She hugged the picture to her chest. The edges of the photo frame bit into her sore br**sts. “I just met you. You don’t get to interrogate me.”
“Maybe not.” His voice was colder than liquid nitrogen. “But I’d like to have known you were married before I asked you on a date. A better time to tell me? Before I slept with you. You lied to me.”
Her chest felt tight, like a scream had sunk its hooks into her from the inside and then balled itself up and refused to come out. “I didn’t lie.”
“I can’t believe you turned me into this man. The man that would break up a family.” He looked at her with such contempt she wanted to crawl under the desk and sob. Suddenly she felt like grade-school Brianna again, pathetic and unworthy.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice cracking. “None.”
“I thought I had an idea who you were. A strong, intelligent, capable woman who just needed to come down from her ice castle. I wanted to know more.” His upper lip curled. “But now I know that if I really want to know something about you, I could go ask your husband.”
The hurt burning through her turned cold. “Get out before I call security to escort you.”
His entire body was tense, vibrating with anger. But it was his eyes that nearly killed her; it wasn’t anger she saw there but a bitter sense of betrayal. Hurt. Resignation.
“No need,” he said. “I know the way.”
And without another word, he walked out of her office and out of her life.
…
Thomas sat in his truck and stared sightlessly across the parking lot of the Golden Hand Casino. He should be driving away, but he didn’t have it in him to move just yet—and wasn’t sure if he could be trusted in busy traffic.
He should have known. Her furtive body language. That tan line on her finger. He’d thought it had looked old. Old enough that he could believe it was from an ex. But ex-wives didn’t have pictures of their ex-husbands on their desk.
More likely, she’d just made a fool out of both him and her husband—and made such a habit of it that she was more often without her wedding ring than with. Just like Nicole.
Nicole had left her wedding band on the nightstand every day. He’d wake in the morning and it would be there, mocking him. He’d tried to tell himself, the moment he realized that he wanted to see Brianna again, that she wasn’t Nicole. That not every woman was the lying, cheating bitch who’d used him, spat on him, and trapped him in a loveless marriage with nothing but nebulous promises of affection.
Maybe not every woman was Nicole, but he’d be damned stupid to ever trust one again. At least with Nicole it had all been there for him to see. The lies. The cheating. The laughter every time she broke his heart a little bit more.
But that sweet, trusting look on Brianna’s face when she’d clung to him…
The truth was, he just didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but a stupidly idealistic part of him wanted to believe her— No. He was a fool, and he’d just ruined another man’s life the same way Nicole and her countless boy toys had ruined his. He’d sworn he’d never ever touch a married woman. Never hurt another man the way he’d been hurt so many times. The taste in his mouth was bitter, the acid in his stomach vile.