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Sexy snippet from the “Collar of Freedom”
Engrossed in my own thoughts I realize he’s now in front of me and Jennifer, standing a bit too close, with a slight smirk on his face and extended hand, waiting. He’s gazing at me from under his luxuriant chestnut brown hair with a few streaks of blond in it, long enough to be tucked behind the ears. His shaggy look reminds me of a rock star, definitely not in line with his classy suit. There is someone wild beneath the surface and he’s not trying to conceal it at all. Wow. His eyes, blue as the sky, are sinking into mine, anchoring themselves more deeply than I think is possible. He really is beautiful. I try to say something, I really do. But I can’t; I just stare. Everyone around me slowly fades into a blur and it’s just us, alone, eyes locked together. Blue versus green, and where they meet, a tridimensional portal opens up, exhorting me to dream. His gravitational field is too strong; I’m pulled into him and I feel him touching my elbow, creating a spark—static from the floor surely—but thank God, that’s my wake-up call. I huskily inhale and land back in the office, breaking our eye contact and instantly focus on Jennifer who, by now, is wondering what’s going on.
“This is Jennifer Miles, our Assistant Project Manager,” I say quietly and point to her.
She grabs his hand and smiles broadly; thank God she has better social skills than me.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Reeves.”
He nods at her with the same smirk he had for me and, locking our eyes again, I hear his deep voice.
“And you are…?”
“Amelia Jones.” I barely have the strength to say my name.
“Nice to meet you, Miss. Jones.” He takes my hot, clammy hand in his and clasps it firmly, giving me some relief upon touching his cool skin. His unyielding, icy blue stare helps him bypass all my guards and it’s now penetrating deep into my pupils, clouding my eyesight again. Spellbound, I feel an upsurge of passion in my body, it’s simply not possible for one woman to feel all this. What is wrong with me? Embarrassed by my conduct, I lift my chin and return his courteous smile. I know if I try to say something my voice will let me down, so instead, I choose to keep quiet and look away before I’m taken again into his realm. He cannot possibly hold my hand all day; there are other people waiting to meet him. Steven Busfield, the slimy Head of Accounts, is introducing him to everybody and he cannot understand the hold up.
“Mr. Reeves, this way.” Steven gently pushes him towards the procession of people waiting to meet him.
He clenches my hand firmly once again, lets go, and then carries on meeting and greeting my colleagues.
All attention is focused on him, of course, and now that he is torturing some other soul, I look around, happy no one has noticed my adolescent behavior. Jennifer, as well as the rest of the women, is still drooling in his direction so I make my way to the restroom, unnoticed.
As I reach for the door I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and, after getting inside, I approach the luxurious oval freestanding basin. I turn the tap on; the restroom is unisex and there is always a warning light at the back of my mind that I can be interrupted any minute.
I wonder if I splash my face like they do in the movies, will I smear my makeup? How is that action accomplished without looking like a mess? And if I do, what will Jennifer say? And the others?
I feel the freezing water on my hands. This is good. It brings me down to earth and all the things I should be grateful for. Yes. In touch with my mind, body, and soul simultaneously, only pain and cold can do that for you. I need to get back to the real world, where I’m taking care of my sister’s children. I must not forget that. Until the boys are eighteen, I’m obliged to be around. That’s what she wanted. That’s what I promised. And Thomas is always first to remind me of the fact.
After a short while, with freezing hands and finally steady on my feet, I do one last thing before I go: check my knitted dress, making sure it’s down to my knees as it has a habit of riding up a few inches. Thomas says I’m getting fat, and even though I know he is wrong, I’m very self-conscious.
Happy with how I look, I open the door, and with my first step immediately feel someone’s foot under my stilettos. I freeze when I see him standing in the doorway, looking directly at me, not troubled one little bit that my stiletto is digging into his polished, expensive shoe. Immediately I whimper and step back, away from his tempting charge.
“I…I’m so sorry Mr. Reeves.” My eyes quickly dart to the floor, avoiding his piercing stare. “I didn’t see you come in.”
“That’s okay, Miss…?” He places his hand on my upper arm, reassuring me he is fine and waiting for me to say my name. He doesn’t remember my name? Huh. Why would he remember me? I lift my head, confronting him with my offended stare. I want to be cold and impolite. How dare he not remember my name!
“Miss Jones. Miss Amelia Jones.” I say defiantly and louder this time.
“Ah…So you do have a voice.” A big white grin beams at me and my guard disperses instantaneously. Not only am I under his spell again, but now, with his hand on my arm, I feel his heat on my skin.
I’m totally at his mercy. Our eyes are locked again but, with no words coming out of my lips, I take a step back, making sure I cut off the molten fire oozing into me from his hand, knowing I must leave. Immediately.
“Yes, I do.” I smile awkwardly, focusing on the door behind him, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Reeves, may I?”
He cocks his head slightly so he can get in my line of sight, but each time he almost locks his gaze my eyes dart to a different place on the door.
“Am I making you uncomfortable, Miss. Jones?” His low and husky voice makes my knees weak.
“No! I have things to do.”
“I’m not?” Is there a shade of disappointment in his voice? “Then, do you always ask for permission to leave the restroom?”
“Um, no. I mean, you’re standing in the doorway.”
“Oh!” He looks surprised, glancing around him. His lips curve slightly, at his own blunder, I’m sure. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was blocking the exit.” He then leisurely takes a step back, granting me a narrow passage.
Looking at my escape route, I know I won’t fit through but I have to leave. I must leave. The way his blue eyes look at me is making me anxious and I can’t think straight. Without any delay I shoot out through the door when I sense something pulling my body back and I hear his voice again, this time louder.
“Miss Jones….!” I turn around and I see my knitted dress caught in one of his suit jacket buttons.
“Oh, sorry… hold on… wait…” Damn my dress! Why did I have to wear it today? My hip is dangerously close to his crotch and I’m frantically trying to free myself from the tangled mess. I jerk my body, avoiding his touch at all cost.
“Miss Jones, please, stay still!” he commands, his deep and firm voice instantly halting me in my tracks, and I obey, standing motionless next to him. My heart races as I sense his fingertips on my body, strictly touching only the dress, untangling me. Suddenly, there isn’t enough air around me, as if his proximity has sucked it out of my lungs. My traitorous body is not helping either, not moving away from him but surreptitiously shivering inside, and my senses flood, intoxicating me. My breasts heave, my heart hammers underneath, and I feel his eyes on me while his deft fingers work their magic. Millions of images play out in my head while his gentle touch brings ripples of ecstasy through my body. I look up and our eyes meet, I’m staring at him, like a prisoner looking outside his cell window, longing for something. I can see him out there playing, wild and free.
Oh, heavens open and take me away from here! I can’t do this anymore. I’m weak. I should be able to hold off temptation easily, but this is just unheard of.
I thank God when he finally frees me from his enchanted hold, breaking our eye contact. He takes a step back and I see that he’s perspiring, too.
He quickly pulls himself together and, looking away from me, almost embarrassed, I hear him say: “We’ll need separate restrooms as soon as possible!”
The door slams in my face and I’m in the bathroom all alone, shocked, and panting. My social skills appear to have abandoned me, yet again. What just happened? I stay still for a few minutes, composing myself, before I decide to leave.