…I knocked once and twisted the door knob with confidence. This time, with no hesitations.
"Good evening, Mr. McCullen. I have your report." I said, holding the report out to him.
He looked up, gazing at me with hose blue eyes piercing straight through me.
Get a grip, Robin. He's unavailable.
"Oh. Right. Have a seat."
He returned to his computer.
"Give me a minute, will you."
I nodded, my thoughts spiralling with an image of him and Millicent together.
I frowned.
"Done," he declared, closing his laptop and rubbing the nape of his neck.
"You can leave it on the desk."
I did, and stood up almost immediately… too quickly, striding across the room to the door.
He crossed the room and caught my arm before I could make it out.
"Leaving so soon?" he purred, his voice raspy and sensual.
"Yes. I have somewhere I need to be."
"Wait. Don't leave."
He traced his bottom lip with his tongue, sending tiny shivers through my entire body. I turned my face away from him, flushed. GET A GRIP!
"Look at me." He held my chin and tilted it up, forcing my eyes to meet his. "You've been on my mind all week. I don't know what you're doing to me, Robin—but I intend to find out."
His hoarse voice was laced with seduction and I wanted to moan in response.
Oh God!
This was sinful. I spent every day scorning Mason for his betrayal, yet here I was, my mind twisting against me and craving for another woman's man in ways that made me shudder and ache all at once.
I pulled away from his touch. I couldn't do this.
"Mr McCullen—"
"Jack. Just... call me Jack."
He said, taking slow, cautious steps towards me.
"Jack," I said evenly, backing away. "I don't know what you think is happening here, but I'd like to work away from drama."
He strode forward, closing the gap.
God.
"I'm not imagining this, Robin. I know you feel this too." His fingers brushed my lips slowly and I shut my eyes in anticipation. "I've thought about touching you and kissing you all week."
"Please stop." I whispered, my heart throbbing in my chest.
"You want this."
I stood helplessly staring into his blue eyes, unable to look away as he hypnotised me. He leaned in, lifting me effortlessly from the ground until we were eye to eye –his gaze devouring me. I was a finished woman.
"You're too beautiful, Robin" he murmured into my ears, brushing his lips gently over my earlobe. "I don't know how I controlled myself for this long."
He pressed his forehead against mine, every reason to end this madness escaping. The world narrowed to the space between us, leaving me motionless and drunk. I instinctively lifted my hand to his face, tracing the lines of his jaw with my fingers.
Everything shattered.
He pressed his lips against mine in a slow pace, my mind delirious with lust. His lips were warm, soft and pillowy against my own, allowing my tongue to slip gently into his mouth. They parted slightly, feeling the soft tickle of his breath beneath my nose, his fingers carding through my long thick hair as we breathed each other in. My breathing hitched, our bodies pressing together against the wall, heat building between us as our lips moved in a slow, hungry rhythm. His tongue rolled over mine, tasting our shared breath and feeling the thud of our heartbeats as he gently set me down on my feet, our hands fumbling to peel each other's clothes away.
God, I have to stop this, he has a girlfriend… Oh God.
I ran my fingers slowly through his curls—so soft, so silky. Nothing about this felt wrong; we both wanted this, we both needed this, and I was going crazy with want.
I needed him.
Stop. He's taken...
God. This wasn't right. I was defying my own rule—never to get involved with a man who was already committed. Yet every sensible thought was thrown out the window, and I was hopelessly undone by the pull of him.
He cupped my cheek and kissed every inch of my face , consuming me piece by piece, leaving no part of me untouched, no space for reason to survive.
My mind screamed restraint, but my body was overcome with desire, trembling under the towering weight of this man. Intoxicating me with a want I couldn't name, yet couldn't resist.
"No—Jack," I gasped, jerking away from him. Geeing myself up, I gingerly pulled my clothes back on, feeling ashamed— my thoughts far less composed.
"You're not leaving, Robin," he said, his hands inching to hold my waist. "Not now."
"I can't do this."
I withdrew, my legs buckling uncontrollably beneath me, betraying every shred of control that remained. My purse and phone sat forgotten on his swivel chair.
Shit.
I fled—leaving my purse, my phone, and my dignity behind.
******
A month earlier…
Sleep abandoned me as my eyes fluttered open. I rubbed at them gently before easing myself upright on Lana's bed, and sighed. I missed him. God, I missed him so much.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I instinctively brushed them away with the back of my index finger, as though wiping the tears might erase the lingering feelings too.
"He didn't deserve me," I squeaked, my voice a few notes higher than usual.
Lana stirred beside me.
"Sorry," I murmured, offering a small apologetic smile when her eyes lifted to mine.
Lana and I shared a space, we'd always shared everything, really ever since we met as freshmen at Oxford University. Every high, every low, every messy in-between. She'd given up Mayfair luxury, her mother's graduation gift, no less for my modest Bexley flat, a decision that still baffled and irritated me.
"This space is big enough," She'd insisted back then.
I'd rolled my eyes, imagining the life we could have lived in one of London's most expensive neighbourhood if she'd just accepted the damn mansion.
"Still sobbing over the philanderer?" Lana asked, narrowing her eyes at me with a scowl.
I shrugged and moved past her to the bathroom.
"Robin, it's been five fucking months. Can you at least try and get over the cheating bastard?"
She waited for an answer, which never came then added, "If you're going to cry, I won't stop you. I've done my best and heavens knows I've tried."
With that, she turned over, leaving me alone beneath the harsh bathroom light. I stared up the ceiling as if it held answers it was deliberately withholding. I murmured for what felt like the hundredth time that he didn't deserve me and heaved a sigh.
Yet, I still missed him.
I felt stupid. Gullible. Naïve. How could I still think of him after everything he'd done? After the pain?
I sighed, washed my hands, and headed back to Lana's bedroom, only to stop dead.
Shit, nature was calling.
I groaned softly. How had I forgotten to pee? He had completely hijacked my senses. I retraced my steps, tugged down my knickers, and let it all out; the betrayal and my pathetic self, flushing it all down.
Hopefully, that was it. Hopefully, he was finally out of my system.
It was time to live again.
When I returned to the bedroom, Lana was fully awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
"Surprisingly, it's not late at all," she said dryly. "Just two in the morning."
"I hear the sarcasm," I said, exhaustion lacing my voice. "It doesn't suit you. And I already apologized for waking you. I should go to my room now."
"Don't go," she murmured, rummaging through a mountain of papers and pushing her lips out in a pout. "Help me with these."
"Can't it wait till morning?"
"Nope. I can't sleep anymore."
I didn't argue. Instead, I climbed onto the bed beside her, helping her sort and mark the chaos of biology practical papers sprawled across the cotton sheets. It took far longer than either of us expected.
By 3:05 a.m., we both gave in to tiredness and collapsed onto the bed.
This time, with no thoughts of Mason lingering in my mind.