Head over Heels

EVIE

The shadowy concrete of the stairwell felt like a tomb as my clacking heels descended each echoing step. Why did the Vázquez office have to be on such a high floor? The cold draft kissed my bare legs, and my calves were already aching.

Maybe the exercise was good, though. It could help take my mind off the pornographic movie playing nonstop in my head.

Ever since I’d found out Sam had been turned on just watching me eat a piece of fucking candy, I’d had this image running through my mind of what it would be like to give him a blow job in his office chair. I was sure he’d taste even sweeter than that sugary treat.

I knew full well that I couldn’t have Sam. I’d been telling myself that nonstop. But every reminder just made me want him more.

Maybe that wasn’t surprising. I’d always been one of those women who, if you told me I couldn’t do something, I would do it ten times over just to prove you wrong. But I couldn’t lose this job. No matter what, I couldn’t allow myself to suck off my boss.

~Crack.~ My foot hit the edge of a step badly, and my leg buckled, sending me toppling down the rest of the flight.

I hit the landing in an ungainly heap. My right ankle throbbed as I sat up from the cement, and I could quickly see what had gone wrong. My black-and-red, six-inch spike heel lay severed from my shoe four steps up.

“Jesus, fuck.”

My plum-colored bag rested beside me, and I could see my iPhone peeking out, flashing insistently. I sighed, grabbed it, and saw a line of messages from Vázquez.

~No way am I answering those. It’ll be a win if I can escape here with a shred of my dignity intact.~

Shoving my cell back into my handbag, I threw the black chain straps over my shoulder. Then I slipped off both my pumps, stretched up to reclaim the broken heel from the stair, and slid it inside the red velvet lining of my shoe.

All that was left, then, was to limp my way down five more flights of stairs, my bare soles freezing against the concrete, my injured ankle screaming in pain.

I clung to the railing to support my unbalanced weight, moving slowly, trying to ignore the sharp pangs every time I put weight on my right foot.

I’d only made it down one more flight before I heard a metal door opening below, its awful crash reverberating as it slammed shut again. Footsteps pattered up the stairs till Sam rounded the fourth-floor landing, eyes widening as he took in my pathetic state.

“Evie, what the hell,” he said, hustling to my aid. He guided me to sit on the chilly stone, and then he sat a few steps below to eye my swollen ankle.

I was pretty sure he could see straight up my dress from that angle, but I was in too much agony to care. Besides, it was nothing he hadn’t seen before, right?

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“No.” I rolled my eyes. “I just broke my favorite pair of heels.”

“I think you’ve got bigger problems right now,” he said, his mouth quirking up into a slight smirk.

“Says you,” I muttered. “These were Louboutin.”

He smirked wider, raising his eyebrows in a look that clearly communicated, ~Get your priorities straight, woman.~ “Why the hell did you take the stairs?” he asked.

“I don’t like elevators,” I said simply. I didn’t want to get into it right now.

He raised his eyebrows even higher, but he didn’t press, turning his attention back to my ankle. “It’s probably a sprain,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

His arm wrapped around my waist, and I grudgingly draped mine across his broad shoulders so he could help me stand. Even in these circumstances, embarrassed and in pain, I couldn’t help relishing the feel of those thick muscles.

I felt a sinking in my gut and a pleasing ache between my thighs. Fuck my body and its hormones. Seriously. I could literally feel my clit swelling for his attention.

Out of all the men I could’ve slept with on my first night in town, why did it have to be him? And why did my body still crave him so deeply?

As we wobbled down four more flights of stairs together like entrants in a three-legged race, his large hands stayed warm and steady against me.

The sensation only worsened the dirty videos running rampant through my head, making my panties uncomfortably cling to my dripping pussy.

“You know you’re not driving yourself home like this, right?” he said as we rounded the final landing, interrupting my fantasy of sexing him up on the floor by his desk.

“I can drive with my left foot if it bothers me that much,” I said, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll be fine.”

His tone deepened. “Evie…”

I sighed, finally peering at him. “You’re not giving me a choice, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, smirking.

We approached the entrance, and he pushed open the door, accompanying me through before twisting around to lock it.

Chilly slush covered the sidewalk, stinging my shoeless feet with pins and needles as I waited for him to finish fiddling with the door.

As he turned, dropping the keys in his coat pocket, he noticed my wince and glanced down at my bare toes turning white in the snow.

“Come on,” he muttered, maneuvering an arm under my ass like he was about to sweep me up into a bridal carry.

“I’m good,” I said, stepping away.

He lifted a brow. “So you’re gonna walk to the car through the snow, with an injured ankle, in your bare feet?”

“My legs work, Vázquez.”

“Oh, I know they do. You don’t have to tell me that,” he said, smirking. “But you can either let me carry you to my car, or I’ll leave you here.”

I scowled. “You wouldn’t.”

He shrugged, hurling a challenging stare in my direction. “Maybe if you make some snow angels, they’ll fly you home.”

I glared at him with narrowed eyes, weighing my options.

~He thinks he’s so fucking sly, doesn’t he? Him and his stupid jokes.~

I exhaled, shoved my busted Louboutins in my bag, and once again looped my arm around his shoulders. He lifted, and my feet left the freezing pavement in one fell swoop. My purse rested against my stomach while my fingers twined around the back of his neck.

I hated depending on a man for anything after the shit I’d endured during my marriage. But somehow, being in Sam’s arms again was giving me the same warm and toasty feeling I’d had the night I met him in Finnigan’s.

I peered at my car as he carried me past. Freshly swept, white, fluffy piles surrounded it in a rectangular ring.

“Did you clean off my car?” I asked.

He shrugged, and I felt the movement in his shoulders as I clung to him. “I wouldn’t have taken the time to do that if I’d known you were lying at the bottom of the stairs. Sorry.”

I could feel my face stretching into a beaming smile. Risky theories stirred in my mind like a spoon in a cup of hot chocolate. Clearly, Sam liked me a little more than he wanted to let on.

Sam furrowed his brows. He was clearly confused by me grinning at him like a loon. “What?”

“I’ve never had a man clean off my car before,” I said.

“Ah, don’t get used to it, angel.” He smirked. “I’m simply trying to gain points to get into heaven.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I don’t know about heaven, but you’re gaining points with me…”

“Who says I didn’t mean you?” he asked, smirking.

~Oh, I see. Angel, heaven, sex joke; got it.~

Safe to say, we were both doing a pretty bad job with this whole business casual agreement, even if we technically hadn’t slept together again. Not a lot of bosses and secretaries talked to each other like this. Right?

He carefully lowered me back to the freezing ground outside his Mercedes and opened the passenger door, allowing me to slip inside.

I sighed with pleasure, sinking into the cool, soft leather. This was a nice car. I could see myself in this car—straddling Sam’s cock in the backseat.

~Jesus. What’s with me and my slutty mind?~

Sam slammed my door and went around to settle himself in the driver’s seat. As soon as he’d twisted the key, he cranked up the heat, and I sighed again as my shivers eased. Even with the injury, I was finally comfortable.

“Good?” he asked.

I nodded, and we were off.

~Now, if only I could have the ride that I really craved.~