Page 56 of Ruled By Rivalry

“What?” he asked, smiling in that confused but adorable way. Still not quite sure he’d heard me correctly, still waiting on the end of my sentence.

“I don’t know if there’s a way to say it more plainly.” I shrugged. “I’m a virgin.”

He blinked at me, hand tracing down my leg until I could see it emerge from below my skirt. “What?” he repeated.

He probably wasn’t aware of the way he retreated. He never took a step back, but his hand was firmly on top of my clothing, his face far enough to see all of it again.

“You really need me to repeat it?”

“No.” Finally, he shook his head, snapping out of it. He was no longer looking at me through a haze of lust and want and need. Not in the way I was still looking at him. “God, no. I’m sorry. I just—”

Now he was stuttering. And it was more satisfying than I wanted to admit, seeing him actually flustered for once. Like a small win in itself, despite the fact that we were discussing my virginity.

“You just . . . ?” I asked with a smile so self-satisfied that it reminded me of his.

“I didn’t—” When he cut himself off this time, I actually snorted in amusement. He gestured down my body, still sitting on the table, legs spread enough that he fit between them. “Sorry. God,” he repeated. His brows pulled up, a crease between them filled with worry and awe and confusion. “We shouldn’t be doing this, then.”

“What exactly is this?”

“I was about thirty seconds away from bending you over that table, Maeve,” he deadpanned, finally finding his footing again. Disbelief still played on his face, but the rest of his confusing emotions were gone.

I didn’t know what reaction I’d expected. Hesitancy? Judgment? A bad, tactless joke that would’ve immediately killed off any attraction?

But Elliot’s confusion was sweet, and his plan more than that.

Have me bent over the table then, my body—naive and unknowing—was screaming.

“Sounds fine by me.”

I think. How would I know?

A low sound reverberated off the walls, but he shook his head. The hand resting on my thigh squeezed, then let go when he took a step back, taking all his warmth with him. “That’s not how—”

He was probably right. That’s not how it should happen. In an office, over a table. But by now, I was having too much fun to drop it. I was a grown woman with newly discovered wants and needs. He’d just teased the daylights out of me when Oliver had still sat opposite us. No harm in giving him a taste of his own medicine. “I shouldn’t let you fuck me right here, right now?”

Elliot took another cautious step back, something behind those blue eyes burning feverishly. “You definitely shouldn’t.”

“Why? You don’t want me?” Lashes batting against my cheek, head tilting, I knew I had him.

He groaned. So loud and unapologetically, I feared someone on the other side of that door might hear him. “Maeve,” he said in warning, eyes locked on mine.

“What is it, Elliot?” In my sweetest voice, I added, “Are you alright? You seem . . . tense.”

“You need to stop.” Look how the tables have turned. Hadn’t I told him to stop looking at me that way just a few hours ago in a broken elevator?

His usually perfectly tailored pants looked tight now, and the image solidified something I’d already guessed. He was as close to that point of no return as I was. And I was seriously considering letting him take me right there, on a table typically used for meetings and covered in sketches.

It might’ve been divine intervention when someone walked toward the room with footsteps as heavy as Bigfoot’s.

We had about five seconds to pull ourselves together. I pulled my skirt back in place, and Elliot did something about that obvious bulge in his pants. He flew back into his chair and, in sync with the door opening, rolled it as far under the table as physically possible.

“Sorry.” Oliver. Obviously. “I forgot my phone.”

And if I’d been a little less distracted, I would’ve noticed it, screen up, right beside me. Buzzing once, as if to make a point. I gave Elliot a look that said, So much for nothing scheduled after six.

A few minutes later, and God knows what Oliver would’ve walked into.

Chapter 23