Heat Wave Box Set: Volumes I-III Page 2

  I shook my head, and he tilted his face just enough to make it seem like a plea. I’d never see the man again. The night before, I’d been completely naked in bed with a man, and having Mark between my thighs had not caused any of the stirrings I was feeling now. My panties were sticky and wet. The words ‘harmless fun’ drifted around my head in a lazy circle. The office was hot and humid, and the lack of circulating air, along with the heavy, dark gaze of the man on the scaffolding, made me feel nearly drunk.

  I stood behind my desk, half naked, in front of a man who’d I’d never spoken to and who had just stepped into view ten minutes ago. I looked out at the city below. My hair tickled the naked skin of my back and shoulders. He reached back and the muscles of his arms bulged as he used his fingers to comb the long hair off his face. I laughed and reached up to do the same with my hair and got the reaction I wanted. His face smoothed to a serious expression. I didn’t need to hear him speak to know exactly what he was thinking. He reached up with his palms and wiped them over his incredible pecs as if he was wiping away the sweat, but I knew his motive. He was baiting me into a game of mirrors. I reached up just as he had done and I smoothed my hands over my breasts. My nipples reacted to the way he watched my hands caress my naked skin. It seemed his chest was rising and falling faster now, and I would have given anything to hear his deep, coarse breaths. Or feel the warmth of it on my skin as he devoured me. Or have it tickle my cheek as he looked at me across a pillow.

  My eyes drifted shut again, and in the suffocating heat of my office, my important office with the big shot view, the office I’d worked hard to get to, I pinched my nipples between my finger and thumb. I tried to imagine my Hollywood Adonis’s large calloused fingers teasing them to nubs, making me arch toward his touch, to his mouth. There was no way this man out on the scaffold wasn’t a genius in bed. He had me close to an orgasm just by standing outside my window making erotic suggestions.

  My own breathing became rapid and frenzied. I needed to be satisfied. I wasn’t going to present reports to the grumpy, old investors in this state of arousal. I dropped my hands and sat in my chair. He looked disappointed, but I was feeling that same disappointment tenfold. How had he done it? Yes, he was magnificent to look at, and most ordinary women would’ve reacted to him in some way. But I was going clear out of my mind. This little game of flirting had passed into full seduction, and he seemed to sense it. Or perhaps it was what he’d planned all along.

  I faced him in my chair, my nipples hard and pink from my own fingers teasing them. Only, it felt as if he’d done it. He’d brought me to this state of delirium without ever speaking to me or touching me. And he wasn’t done. He gazed pointedly down at my knees, which were clamped shut because that was how I’d been taught to sit. ‘Sit like a lady,’ my mom would remind me if my legs were even the slightest bit parted. Even if I was wearing jeans, my knees should touch, she would say.

  My tight, pencil skirt held my legs together properly, but I was feeling anything but proper. It was almost as if once my prim, little bun had come down, and I’d allowed myself the luxury of standing behind my desk with my long hair hanging in a state of dishabille, some of my inhibitions had flowed out through the strands.

  His massive chest lifted and fell with a deep breath, and he blew me a kiss. His hand reached up and took hold of the safety latch on the rope. He was leaving. My Hollywood Adonis was going to sink below view to the twenty-ninth floor. I had no idea what compelled me, except that the ache in my pussy was so strong now I had to stop it, but I yanked my skirt up above my panties. He stopped and locked the latch again.

  Sweat rolled along his shoulders and over the curves of his chest and the hard ridges of his abdomen. I didn’t take my gaze off of him. He didn’t look away either. The hell with propriety and sitting like a lady. I slid my panties to the floor and spread my knees apart. He sat down on his ledge, perhaps for safety but more likely to get a better view. And having him stare at my pussy made me moan with need as if he’d reached through the glass and stroked the hot, wet slit with his rough fingertips.

  I reached down and slid my fingers through the cream covered folds. I lifted one leg up over the arm of my chair, my five hundred dollar shoe dangling in the air, and laughed thinking if only the stodgy, old investors could see me now. I moved my fingers over my throbbing clit, making sure to dive into the slippery wetness of my pussy in between strokes. His lids, the stranger who watched me, were heavy as he gazed at me, not flinching, not moving a muscle. And there, in the my ergonomic office chair, with the temperature rising every second and the blistering heat of the sun burning through the windows, the man, the stranger with the face and body that’d walked out of Greek mythology, watched as I fondled myself to climax. In shuddering waves that felt like mini explosions pulsing through me, I came.

  As I relaxed and pulled my hands away from myself, my head cleared some. I was still trying to understand what had just happened. The window washer still stared at me through the glass. It seemed the sheen of sweat had grown heavier on his solid muscular chest, and his breathing was faster than it should have been, even standing outside in the hot sun.

  Suddenly, feeling ridiculously wanton, I quickly reached for my panties and slid them on. I got up and grabbed my blouse and bra and hurried into my office bathroom, another perk for having made it so far in company, a private bathroom and a private office where I’d just masturbated in front of a complete stranger. I washed my hands and face, and with shaky arms, I tucked my hair back into a bun. It looked hasty and not as neat and tight as my usual hairstyle, but then how prim and proper could I be after what I’d just done?

  My green eyes stared back at me from the mirror. They were still glassy from the highly sensual minutes I’d just spent in my office chair. My face and neck were still flushed pink. I was a stranger. I’d just done something completely out of my scope of thinking. I never liked to show my vulnerable, feminine side to any man, and I’d just collapsed into a pool of simpering, horny girlishness right in front of him. The man who had descended from the top of the building to wash my office window had seduced me with just his eyes and a few simple gestures. He’d controlled me from behind the thick glass pane. What would he be like in person? The question sent a shiver through me.

  I stood in the bathroom, looking slightly less put together than when I’d first walked into my office this morning. My panties were still wet, and they clung to my slightly aching pussy.

  I heard the buzz of my intercom. Haley’s voice was muffled, but I was certain she was letting me know the investors had arrived. I was terrified to leave the bathroom, to face him, the man who’d brought me to the edge of an orgasm just by looking at me. I took a deep breath and double checked the buttons on my blouse. I wouldn’t even look the direction of the windows. I would never see the man again, and I needed to push it all from my head.

  I opened the bathroom door. Warm air rushed past me. With tiled walls and floors and no massive windows, the bathroom was much cooler. Perhaps I’d move my desk in there during the hottest part of the afternoon. It might cool me off, and I definitely needed that, in every respect.

  I stared straight ahead and marched across the floor to my desk, but it was unnecessary. From the corner of my eye, it was easy to see that Hollywood had gone. The taut cables were still visible. They moved with the weight of the man who now washed windows on the floor below, an advertising company. I briefly entertained the notion of visiting that floor. No. I’d allowed myself this small fantasy, and it was over. He was back to work, and I had to do the same. I would never see him again.

  I gathered up my reports and noticed a voicemail. It was Mark. I decided to see how he’d taken the break-up news. He wasn’t the type of man to worry about anyone else’s feelings, but I was sure this would be a blow to his ego. “Hey, Jamie, sweetie, I got your text. Couldn’t tell if you were serious or not. But how about we go to
a nice romantic dinner and talk about it. I know we’re both just working too hard. See you tonight.”

  The word romantic lost all its meaning when it came from Mark’s mouth. That was how clueless he was about my feelings. We were through, and there was no way to ever turn it around. Haley knocked impatiently.

  “Coming,” I called to her. I glanced back at the window one last time, tucked a rogue strand of hair up behind my ear and headed to the meeting.

  Chapter 2

  The heat seemed to make time move in slow motion. The work day felt extra long. One benefit to the broken air conditioner, which apparently needed some expensive replacement part that would take two days to get, was that the investors didn’t want to stick around and wilt their dry clean only suits.

  I was sure I’d be able to push the rather unorthodox morning from my mind, but that turned out not to be the case. At lunch, I lingered over my desk with a muffin and yogurt trying to remember exactly what the man looked like. I’d gone out purposely at break to take a walk, thinking I could slink around the building without him seeing me, but he was gone. Certainly, his work day started at dawn on these hot summer days. Standing in front of a wall of glass had to make the sun even less bearable. Tomorrow, he’d be back, no doubt, but on a different section of building. Or maybe, and the notion had crossed my mind more than once, he’d been just a figment of my imagination. I’d been so unsatisfied in bed with Mark, maybe I’d just conjured up a man to find a little fulfillment. Or maybe, I was delusional because of the heat. Many of my coworkers, including Hayley, had gone home early. It wasn’t right for them to stay. My office was so stifling, I kept dozing off while writing reports.

  My phone buzzed. It was Mark— again. I was in no mood to talk, but I needed to just rip the bandage off this thing. “Hey.”

  “Sweetheart, did you get my message about dinner? We need to talk and smooth things out.”

  The lack of fresh air had sucked out all my energy, and it took a lot of effort to talk. “Look, Mark, this has run its course. We’re just not suited for each other.”

  “Ah, come on, sweetie, we’re great together. Our sex life is off the charts.”

  The laugh spurted out before I could trap it. “No, your sex life is off the charts. Although, I don’t know how it could be.” The last words were really just meant for my ears. “The last text I sent you, I wrote while you were on top of me.” I hadn’t meant to yank the bandage so hard, but now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop. And his thickheadedness wasn’t making this easy. “You didn’t notice because you always go into that self-satisfaction trance where your only goal is to get off. I could be a plastic doll with my plastic legs wrapped around you, and you’d still be satisfied. I need more.” I turned around to the wall of windows. The sun was lower in the sky, but waves of heat still flowed off of every building. Even the pigeons seemed to have scrambled away to a cooler place, north for the summer maybe?

  Mark was silent. It seemed that, for a change, he’d actually heard me. Something that didn’t happen often. He was better at pretending to listen than actually listening. “I don’t know what to say, Jamie,” he finally said. He sounded upset, but I knew him well enough to know it was because of the bruise to his ego rather than the sorrow of knowing that he was losing me. “I guess it’s good I never moved in officially. I’ll get my stuff later.”

  “No problem. And, I am sorry, Mark.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “Later.”

  I leaned back on my chair in relief. It was something I’d needed to do for a good month. I was always so busy with work, I rarely paid attention to my social life. I’d let this really uninspiring relationship rumble on like a train running out of steam on the track. The career of my life had been chugging along at full speed, but the other half, the half that was so important to keep me connected to the human world, had, in my fury to climb the corporate ladder, gone awry. And oddly enough, the stranger, the Hollywood Adonis, who’d I’d never met or spoken to, had shown me that.

  Chapter 3

  The building was nearly deserted. Most of the businesses had closed early, rather than run the risk of an employee falling ill due to heat exhaustion. The sun had sunk behind the skyscrapers, and the shadows of the buildings gave some relief to the sidewalk. I turned the corner into the multi-level parking lot. Aside from a few other overachievers like me and the security and custodial team members, the lot was empty. Overachiever. The word repeated in my head again. I hadn’t really been working late to get more accomplished. I just hadn’t had much to go home to. I needed to seriously reflect on my life. When had it become so dry and staid? No wonder Rebecca looked so much happier than me.

  I climbed the stairs to the next level and walked to my car. It looked lonely sitting in the mostly empty lot. I climbed into it. My phone rang. It was my sister. “Hey, Becca, I’m just leaving work.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to drive and talk, so I’ll just tell you the news. You’re going to be an aunt.” She shrieked, and I echoed back her shriek.

  “That’s great, Becca. When are you due?”

  “Next March.” Her voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of a motorcycle. It rumbled up to the level where my car sat. I glanced out the window. The rider was wearing a black helmet, dark sunglasses and a white tank shirt that showed off some impressive arms. With the lot almost empty, it seemed strange that he would bother to come up to this level.

  “I’m so happy for you, Rebecca. Tell Tyler congrats for me. I’ll call you later so we can talk.”

  “”Drive safely,” she said. “I’ve got to go out and bring in the goats.”

  I smiled. “I’ve got to go home and stick a frozen dinner in the microwave.” God, my life was dull. “I’m really happy for you, sis.”

  Just as I hung up, it occurred to me that the roar of the motorcycle had gotten much louder. It was shaking my car. I glanced up in the rearview. He was stopped directly behind my car. I immediately checked that my doors were locked. I started the engine, letting him know that I was prepared to run him down if necessary. The rider stared into my back windshield for a long tense second. Then he took off his helmet and sunglasses. It was him. My Hollywood Adonis.

  My fingers shook as I moved the rearview mirror to take a second look and make sure it was him. Today, I’d bared all to the man. Had my temporary lapse of inhibition and sense of propriety given him the impression that he could now just approach me? Sadly, it made sense.

  He turned off the motorcycle. I gripped my phone, slightly terrified and slightly thrilled. He swung his long leg over the seat. His white tank shirt clung to the sweat on his chest as he approached the driver’s window. He was tall and imposing and yet, I didn’t feel threatened. Which was probably a mistake. It was one thing when the man was suspended high in the air and sitting securely on the opposite side of a window. It was another thing to have him on the opposite side of a breakable car window. I could have backed up, but I was pretty sure the bike and my car would receive about the same amount of damage.

  He knocked on my window. I lowered it a few inches and peered up at him as he leaned his face down to talk. He’d gotten even more suntanned after a long day on the platform. This only increased his appeal, and he really didn’t need help in that department.

  “I hope this doesn’t seem too creepy, but I waited for you to come out of the building.” His deep voice was low and mellow. Just as I would have expected it. A high-pitched or nasally voice might have thrown cold water on the whole fantasy thing from this morning. And the thought of this morning brought a blush to my face.

  “It sort of does fall under the creepy category.” Then I thought of my own actions. “Just so you know, I don’t usually do stuff like that,” I said quickly, as if that would make my statement sound any less lame.

  “What? Do you mean masturbate?”

  “Yes, well, n
o, well, I meant in front of an audience. It must have been the heat. I don’t know what came over me.”

  He stared at me through the tiny space of air. Once again, we were separated mostly by glass. “Don’t apologize. It was the highlight of my week, maybe even the month. Hell, might just have been the best damn thing that’s happened to me all year.” He looked back at his bike. He definitely had one of those profiles that would be breathtaking to look at over the edge of my pillow. He returned his blue gaze to me, and the entire morning returned to me in hot waves. It was as if he could hypnotize me with those eyes. “Just thought we could get something to eat. There’s a great burger joint about ten miles from here. Sort of off the beaten path. Quiet and good food. On the bike we can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  I stared pointedly down at my pencil skirt and blouse. “I don’t know if I’m the motorcycle and ‘off the beaten path’ type.”

  He looked long at me again, and I squirmed a bit under his scrutiny. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I think you are. You can just push your skirt up.” He smiled. “Maybe not as high as you did this morning. As it is, those legs will probably stop traffic around us.”

  My face warmed again, and I turned away from his gaze.

  “What’s your name, darlin’?” he asked.

  I was sitting in a three hundred dollar tailored business skirt and blouse, and he was calling me darlin’ like some girl hanging out in a pool saloon. And I liked it. It was against all my principals and priorities, and I fucking liked it. Suddenly, I wished I was wearing tight jeans with rips in highly unacceptable locations, bent low over a pool table, being watched. Being watched by this man, like he’d watched me this morning with my hands between my legs.