Office Politics Ch. 02

He was too close.

How did she not hear his approach? Perhaps he was a vampire?

He took another step closer and her instincts screamed at her to back away, but she checked herself just in time. Something told her that letting this man know, even in the smallest of ways, that he was having any sort of effect on her would be a grave error.

The bow tie was gone, and the top few buttons of his dress shirt were undone. His hair was no longer slicked back from his face, but the tousled mess that she was more familiar with. A little less buttoned up suited him, he still oozed masculinity.

There was a look in his eye, a glint, as he watched her, and that sort of half smile she'd come to know so well, and yet found so hard to interpret -- was it mocking? aware? conspiratorial? Who knew?

He knocked back the rest of his champagne, and rested the empty flute on the balustrade beside him. A new air of intent seemed to take him over and he took a step closer. Somehow, she could sense that he was drunk. Not very, but enough that he might be more reckless than usual. The boundaries of propriety might not hold as tightly. Awareness prickled through her. He leaned forward and brushed the side of her face with the edge of his hand. He tucked a stray hair that had escaped from the chignon gran had helped her fix earlier, behind her ear. She felt it like a trail of blazing fire, where the tips of his fingers met her flesh.

They watched each other without speaking for a moment. He was so close that she was sure she could feel the heat emanating from his body.

She should have left, or at the very least said something to dissuade him from the inevitable thing that was about to happen. But she didn't. She just watched, trapped by the heat in his gaze as he leaned forward. She sighed as his lips brushed against hers. Her heart hammered in her chest as he rested a hand on the small of her back and pulled her towards him until they were pressed against each other. He tilted his head. She closed her eyes as a tremble made of fire and awareness swept through her. The responding growl, from somewhere deep in his chest, sent a thrill of arousal cascading down her spine.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away, and already she was releasing a hopeless sigh, as his hard, hot lips pressed against hers. It was the sort of lazy reckless kiss she imagined Gabriel must embark on all the time. It didn't change anything though. Knowing he did this to everyone didn't make her response to him any less incendiary. Because without meaning to, her hands were creeping up the lapels of his jacket, seeking to lose themselves in all that glorious hair, that, if she was honest with herself, she'd been itching to run her fingers through since that first day in the shop. Her lips were parting, she was melting against the hard planes of his chest.

Gabriel kissed the way he did everything. Lazy, reckless, and underneath it all, a dark shadow of that edgy masculine danger, that she really should have heeded. But she couldn't bear to. His tongue was a temptation, his sensual mouth a seduction, and she could hardly make sense of all the emotions that stormed through her then, battering against all of her defences, washing her misgivings away.

"The things I want to do to you." He whispered, and cupping her behind with large hands, he held her flush against him, forcing her up onto her toes, and in response, Jess moaned into his open mouth as he deepened the kiss. And she was lost.

Until suddenly she wasn't.

A commotion from behind them interrupted the blissful perfection of his lips; they were no longer alone on the balcony.

A sharp intake of breath and his lips were gone, leaving only cold solitude in their wake. He stepped back as someone said his name, in a high tinkling voice and he turned, stepping in front of her as if to shield her, or maybe to hide her? She heaved a sigh. Maybe half a dozen people, drunk, laughing, gathered around him.

"There you are dahling, whatever are you doing out here?" said Jerry Hall.

"You're just in time to hear Gordon's speech, you nearly missed it." More indulgent laughter.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he was swept back into the hall. And Jess was alone again. She wasn't sure if they'd even noticed her, which either made them rude, or oblivious, or both. For a while she just stood there, cold in the dark, listening to her heart frantically beating against her ribs, and beyond that the tinkling laughter of the guests, as the party carried on without her. She slipped back into the hall while he was distracted, and made a beeline for the cloakroom.

She didn't like the feelings churning around in her chest. Everything was too intense. She shouldn't get mixed up with co-workers, especially not reckless, arrogant ones like Gabriel Hunter. Suddenly she was not enjoying the party, she needed to escape the crowding noise roaring in her ears, and hammering in her chest. She gave the cloak room attendant her ticket, and waited for her stuff, terrified that she was going to feel a tap on the shoulder at any moment.

It wasn't too late, if she was quick she could still make the train.

Praying that Gabriel wouldn't notice, that no one would notice, she set her sights on the exit. She didn't want to go to Paradise in Vauxhall. She didn't want to explain why not, she just wanted to go home.

Reunited with her bag, and the coat that her gran had loaned her for the evening, She slipped out of the door, without saying anything to anyone.

*

Gabriel disentangled himself as quickly as he could from the overbearing Arabella, but it was still too late. She wasn't out on the balcony anymore, or at the bar, or talking to Katie or Lou. He checked out front in case she was there waiting for a cab. Even hung around watching the toilets for a while, but no, she was gone. Damn it.

Jess had been like putty in his hands, when he'd finally spotted the opportunity to get her on her own. He'd been so looking forward to taking her back to his apartment and peeling that quirky shift dress she'd been wearing off her.