Forbidden Surrender (Forever 1)

“Reminds me of my boss,” Riley remarked.

“Totally,” said Jen. Steph nodded in agreement.

“I thought you said he wasn’t bad,” I offered.

Riley rolled her eyes. “Compared to others, he’s not. But he has a habit of always walking by, making sure no one’s playing solitaire or checking Facebook. He’s a stickler for rules and blows his top when people don’t follow them. If I had to describe him with one word, I’d say ‘particular’.”

Her boss sounded similar to Richard on a bad day. “I’d use a stronger word. ‘Anal’ sounds good.”

A warm hand rested on my shoulder, making my words linger in the air. “Hello Kristen.”

I twisted my head to see who it was even though the voice was unmistakable. Vincent, in a crisp white shirt that bolded his dark eyes and slate-gray slacks that hid powerful lean muscles, was preparing to take a seat in the row behind us. The impeccable timing combined with being hit by his intense aura made my nacho-filled stomach drop to the floor.

“Vincent, what are you doing here?” I asked anxiously, unsure which parts he caught of our private girls conversation. Besides stalking me.

“You remembered to call me Vincent. I’m touched.” He smiled then squeezed my shoulder gently. “I was enjoying the game from the front row when I saw you and your friends on screen. I figured I’d send my regards to my new account manager.”

“You’re his account manager, Kristen?” Jen asked, surprised.

I looked at her, then Steph, then Riley. Their eyes trained on Vincent were as wide as their mouths, like they’d just seen a god. “Umm . . . yeah. Guys, this is Vincent Sorenson, CEO of SandWorks. He’s a new client.” I introduced Jen and Steph to him and he shook their hands in turn. They looked as if they were going to melt from his touch and I couldn’t help commiserating.

“Although we hadn’t been formally introduced, Kristen’s already told me about you Riley,” he said smoothly, shaking her hand.

She blushed then giggled uncharacteristically. “Kristen’s told me all about you as well.”

I glared daggers at her, hoping she’d take the cue.

“Good things I hope.”

“Only the best,” she replied, pointedly ignoring me. “Jen, Steph want to get some more snacks inside?”

I stealthily pinched her hip and she smoothly pulled my hand away without reacting. She was determined to leave me and Vincent alone and I was determined to prevent that. God knows what happened last time Vincent and I were by ourselves in his office. I shuddered to think something similar would happen at this public venue.

“I’ll come with you,” I said, more as a plea than a suggestion.

“Oh no, I’m sure you guys have so much to talk about.” She smiled at me then turned to Vincent. “Thank you for the box seats Mr. Sorenson. Hopefully Kristen can show you our full appreciation.” Her obvious wink made me wince. Then she tugged Jen and Steph inside, the two of them stealing glances at Vincent as they left.

When it was clear we were alone, Vincent deftly hopped over the row and took the seat beside me. He reached back and grabbed two drinks he must’ve put there before alerting me to his presence and offered one to me.

“A mojito. I know it’s your favorite.”

Irritated by the charge I got from being so near him, I accepted the drink and took a gulp to calm my nerves. I wanted to be mad at him but couldn’t think of a good reason. “See what you did? You scared off my friends.” This was supposed to be girls’ night out, but with the amount of testosterone he exuded I sensed it had just turned into Vincent’s night out.

“They seemed to be having fun.” He raised his glass and clinked it against mine. “So do you.” His lips curled into a charming smirk and he adjusted his position, brushing his arm against mine. The unwelcome surge over that entire side of my body made me realize how much I missed his physical presence.

I took a sip, then another, debating what to say to him while he eyed me suspiciously, the drama of the game below us all but forgotten. “Do I make you nervous?” he asked.

His relaxed posture and collected demeanor provided a stark contrast to my own composure. “No. Why?”

“You’re pounding that drink.”

I glanced down at my mojito which was now just ice cubes. When did that happen?

His amused eyes were on mine when I looked back up. “I can get you another if you want.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I blurted, recalling our last heated conversation in which I was naked and in the middle of masturbating. “I’m not going home with you tonight if that’s what you’re planning.”

“Relax Kristen. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. I know you can handle yourself.” The casual way in which he deflected while complimenting me made me stiffen and when he put his hand on mine, I felt my knees go weak. Good thing we were sitting down.“What’s really bothering you?”

I placed the drink in the cup holder and pulled my arms across my chest, more to avoid the effect of his touch than to pout. “You. What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“I may constantly fantasize about you but I don’t follow you around or have you followed if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So you just happened to be here when I’m here.”

“It’s the playoffs. As a major shareholder in the team, I have more reason to be at this game than you. Maybe you’re the one stalking me?”

His cleverness caused me to laugh and I gained a greater appreciation for his sense of humor. “You wish.”

“Maybe you researched my finances, realized my connection to the Knicks, and, unable to resist your intense feelings, showed up hoping to see me. Looks like we both got lucky.” He took a sip of his own drink while keeping his dark eyes trained on me.

Even though I’d been plagued with constant thoughts about him throughout the week—some of them including fantasy meetings in his office—I couldn’t imagine myself acting on them. “In your dreams, buddy,” I said, my tone more playful than serious.

He leaned toward me, his mouth close to my ear and his long velvety hair brushing my cheek. Rather than resisting, I found myself relishing the contact. His scent was different than usual but the signature spice was present and had its usual effect on me all the same.

“You want to know what I dream about? We can make that a reality,” he purred.