Don't Hold Back (Darkest Desires 3)

Don't Hold Back (Darkest Desires 3)
Lynn Burke
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Lynne Burke

Kelly

The best part of being an analyst for Kirchoff Energy on the third floor of the office building in downtown Baltimore? Jamison Byrne in all his hot arrogance often hopped aboard the elevator, heading to the fourth floor for Davidoff Finance Corp.

Easily six feet or maybe an inch taller, he was a golden blondie with dark, piercing eyes and full lips that needed to be nibbled. Along with that, he had wide shoulders, a trim waist, and the most perfectly formed backside.

But he wasn’t my type. Nope. I preferred sweet, shy nerds. Not that I dated much. To be honest, I’d had two dates in the previous two years. Sure, I had the usual social media profiles, but the thoughts of signing up for one of those dating sites scared the crap out of me. Friendships were all fine and good -- as long as I didn’t have to stomach strong feelings. I couldn’t handle them.

But Jamison… I drooled over him every morning I was lucky enough to share the elevator with him -- and the other half-dozen people who stuffed in with us. He carried this mysterious air, a confidence that attracted yet repelled me at the same time. In an office of conservative short hairs, he had longer locks and kept scruff on his jaw… he even smelled damn delicious. A true unicorn in a field of rhinos.

He also set my nerves on edge.

I’d never spoken to him, never touched him, but my hands shook and knees weakened whenever he stepped into the elevator. I’d heard rumors from my co-workers on Friday that the hottie from Davidoff Financial upstairs modeled for romance novel covers. The idea didn’t surprise me -- he had the body and look for it -- and boy, did I enjoy looking.

Not that I wanted him.

On Monday, one of my coworkers celebrated her fiftieth birthday, so I stopped by a bakery to get black-icing cupcakes. I carried the white box in front of me, so scared of dropping the damn thing that I didn’t take care when entering the elevator. Thinking I’d gone in far enough, I turned, and nailed the person shuffling in behind me with the box.
White cardboard -- flimsy as shit -- flew from my hands, and in slow motion just like a cartoon, it fell to the floor as I leapt toward the damn thing. “Shit! No!” I bit off the word as the box landed on leather loafers I knew well.

Heat crept up my chest, and I quickly squatted without lifting my head, pushing up my too-big glasses. “I’m so sorry!” I grabbed at the scattered cupcakes, smearing frosting all over my fingers -- and his shoes.

“It’s okay.” That low, rumbly tone swept down my spine, straight to the loneliest place on earth, springing dampness to life between my thighs. “Let me help.”

Jamison Byrne in all his slow, seductive sexiness, crouched down in front of me, his jeans tightening across his thighs and showcasing a bulge worth drooling over. No wonder he modeled for romance novels.

My mouth watered, and I snapped my jaw shut to swallow, realizing I stared at his groin. My God. Pure heat flooded my face as the elevator door slid shut with only two others stepping in the join us in the mess I’d made.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” I told him as our fellow patrons of the elevator shuffled around to stay away from the mess.

Jamison picked up a cupcake and dropped it in the askew box beside me, icing coating one of his fingers.

I wanted to lick it off. No, I just wanted his finger in my mouth.

My insides trembled like a bowl of gelatin, like the final leaves on the trees outside, and I refused to lift my gaze to his face. He was a mere three feet away, if I looked into his eyes, my insides would be wrecked, flooded with feelings topping out my feels-o-meter with its ten limit.

I leaned forward to grab the last cupcake at the same time he did. Our hands brushed, and lightening split my mind, tearing a gasp past my lips. My attention jerked up, my gaze landing on his face.

Dark eyes, so black they should have looked like a shark’s, with a dead and unfeeling gaze. But the intensity of his stare, the heat in those orbs pebbled my skin. My jaw slackened. Brain erupted in chaos, my feels-o-meter spiking beyond a mere ten.

He glanced at the ID hanging around my neck. “Kelly Sadel.”

Did I nod? I couldn’t remember, but I became very conscious of the fact my low-cut blouse revealed the girls spilling from my bra.

“Jamison Byrne.” He held out his hand.

“Y-yes, I know.” My voice shook as badly as my hands as I lifted up a bit to lessen the peek show and then shoved the box’s lid down, rudely ignoring his hand. No way in hell I could touch the man again. He’d already ruined a pair of my panties. “I mean -- I don’t know. Er… well, I’ve heard of you, that is. Mr. Byrne of Davidoff Financial.”

His chuckle lit all kinds of butterflies in my stomach, and a shaky smile pullaed at my lips as I fought to control the turmoil in my brain.

“I’m sorry.” Heat flooded my cheeks anew. “I’m so, so sorry.” I struggled to stand, my purse dangling from my forearm, the wrecked box in my hands, my glasses tilting again. “I don’t even have a tissue to offer you for your shoes and I should. Allergy season, you know? The ragweed kills me every time this year.” The box wobbled in my shaking arms.

Jamison grasped my elbow and steadied me, jerking my gaze up to his face again. He towered over my five-foot-two, and his divine scent, spice with a hint of wintergreen… it stuck to my nose, coated my lungs. I couldn’t breathe him in deeply enough.

G-good God. So pretty. So golden. Beautiful, beautiful, boy…

“Steady?” he asked, his lush-looking lips still smiling.

I nodded like a dumb idiot even though I would much rather have said no in the hope his warm hold on my elbow would linger. What would that large hand feel like sliding up my arm to grasp my nape? Would I swoon if he lowered his head and swept his lips over mine? Lips, perfectly bowed and pink… soft looking. Delicious, actually --