Crossing the Line Read online

We go back out, and he pushes the button for the lift. I could have met him downstairs. This time we’re alone, and there’s a cracking in the air. He glances at me, tilting his head to the side and my lips part, heart races and stomach flutters. I want him. Right now actually.

  The ride is painful. I clench my fists behind my back. His are shoved in his pockets as if he’s trying to stop himself reaching out for me. He can feel it too. His eyes are wild. The lift comes to a stop and the doors glide open.

  Aden nods his head and I walk out first, taking a deep breath. What was that? I stay half a step ahead as we walk outside to the car park. My mind is still reeling. If the lift hadn’t stopped, what would have happened? Would we have launched ourselves at each other?

  “Whoa look at that,” he says, admiring my Dad’s car. “Guess someone was feeling flashy today.” I laugh nervously and nod once. It’s not because I was feeling flashy; I was feeling blocked in and late!

  We get in the car, and Aden explains we’re going to an early meeting before going back to the office to do what we were supposed to be doing. A band Aden wants to sign, who he was just supposed to chat with today, wants his label, and not another one Aden was convinced they’d choose.

  I watch him drive with my tongue practically hanging out. Lusting after him is pretty exhausting. We should just shag and get the sexual tension out of the way, maybe then I’ll be able to concentrate properly.

  We pull into the car park of a small, almost dingy looking pub. “This is where the meeting is?” I ask.

  “This is their local, so I suggested meeting here. The place isn’t open yet, but the manager lets them practice here in the mornings. We’ll have some privacy for the meeting.”

  “Ah so you’ve not brought me to a dive to ply me with alcohol and take advantage of me in the bathroom,” I joke.

  “Oh so the only way you’d sleep with me is if you’re drunk?” he asks.

  No. I say nothing.

  He arches his eyebrow and chuckles. “You do nothing for my ego.”

  I follow him towards the front door. “Fine, I wouldn’t need to be drunk. You’ll just have to ask me very nicely.”

  He laughs fully and stops, turning to me. “This is going to be very inappropriate, Millie.” My stomach clenches. “What if I asked you right now?”

  I take a deep breath, squirming and licking my dry lips. Looking into his perfect blue eyes makes my blood boil. Desire pools down south and I fight to breathe evenly. “Um…”

  A big grin stretches across his face. “That’s what I thought.” He walks inside the pub, and I want to throw one of the discarded, broken chairs that are laying on the floor at him. He’s an arsehole. I want to leave and go back to the office, but I don’t want him to win. I’m going to make him ask. No, I’m going to make him beg.

  I walk in, and the inside of the pub is depressing, dark and dated with mismatch tables and chairs. Aden’s watching the band play in the corner of the room. There’s three of them, all very rock band looking with messy but stylish hair, tattoos and either in ripped or skinny jeans. I turn my attention back to my boss, and I swoon. I’m absolutely sure he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet. Aden looks up, seeming to sense I’m watching him, and smirks, obviously pleased with himself. Well two can play that game.

  When he turns his attention back to the band, I undo one more button, showing off a little more cleavage. I make a mental note to do it back up before we get back to the office; it was fine for being out but not for being in that intimidatingly professional building. I fluff my hair and step beside him.

  Aden does a double take, his eyes settling on my missing button, and I’m the one smirking. “They’re good,” I say, keeping my eyes on the band. I think I hear a groan, but I can’t be sure. Professional Amelie is long gone again.

  Once the band finishes their song, they step forwards, grinning from ear to ear as they shake Aden’s hand. He introduces me to Lago – I’m not told the story behind that one – Todd and Jake, and we sit down at a table that’s sticky with what I truly hope is spilt beer.

  I notice a few more things about Aden while he chats animatedly with the three band members of Slate. He has the smallest dimple that appears on his left cheek when he really smiles; you wouldn’t notice unless you were studying him hard, and I am. His smile is ever so slightly crooked; the dimple side gets a little higher. And he talks with his hands when he’s passionate about something.

  There’s not much for me to see or do, only make a few light notes about studio time and the band’s direction, but I’m more than happy to take a back seat and see my boss in action.

  After the meeting, we head back to the office. “Happy?” I ask as his smile widens, and I see that dimple. Now I know it’s there I see it more and more.

  “Very. We should celebrate. I’ve not got any appointments for the rest of the day, have I?”

  “Nope, nothing.” I confirm, mentally patting myself on the back for double-checking his diary on my blackberry on the way over here.

  “Good. I thought I’d lose that band to a bigger record but, thankfully, they’ve picked us. That deserves celebrating.”

  “Well then, celebrating it is,” I reply and grin.

  “Great. So strip club?” I blink slowly and wait for the punch line. He laughs. “I’m kidding, Millie. Unless, of course, you want to?” How about we go back to your place and I give you a private dance? Now that would be tragic.

  I bite my lip, squeeze my thighs together and force the lustful thoughts out of my head. “Sure, there’s a male strip club across town,” I say, shrugging.

  “I’m not gay.”

  “I’m not a lesbian.”

  “Well how about we go back to mine? I have some disgusting champagne that my mother bought me when I moved in.” He suddenly looks worried, like he’s realised he’s overstepped the mark by inviting me to his place. “Or we could go to a bar if you’d prefer?”

  “No, your place is fine,” I reply a little too quickly.

  He glances at me and smirks before turning his attention back to the road. I groan internally and look out of the side window before I embarrass myself further. As he drives I try to concentrate on not making a fool of myself while my heart flutters uncontrollably. I think I like him.

  We pull into his drive, and his house is modest. Detached with a high fence framing it, long stone driveway that could fit about six cars and a double garage. Very modest for what I’m used to. I think I like that house too.

  I follow him inside and realise the modesty stops at the threshold. Everywhere is white and open planned so you can see almost the whole of downstairs from one spot. A random half wall with modern fireplace separates the kitchen and dining area from the lounge.

  The kitchen itself is all stainless steel with built in appliances, so there are just straight lines everywhere. On the wall is a screen which Aden presses and the fire – fake fire then – turns on. Okay wow. The kitchen and living room looks up to the roof, and I can just about see a balcony from where I’m standing. I guess the bedrooms are up there. Wow again.

  “Champagne?” he asks, walking to the kitchen.

  I follow. “Please.” I stand by the long dining table and turn to look at the fire. I gasp as I see a piano – a mini grand; I think – stuck to the wall, high above head level. How does that even stay there? “Seriously?” I say as I gawp up at it.

  Behind me, I hear the sound of clinking glasses and Aden’s laughter. “I love the piano.”

  “Yes but surely to play it you need it on the floor? Unless you can defy gravity?”

  He pops the cork. “I have one I can play in the leisure room, along with a drum kit and guitars. This piano I rescued from a tip a year ago. I had it refurbished, although it’s gutted inside, and hung on the wall.

  He pours us two very large glasses of champagne and hands me one, clinking his glass against mine. The sexual tension is back with a vengeance. It suddenly feels very hot in here and not because of th
e fire. I gulp and take a small sip, unable to keep my eyes off him.

  An hour later, and I’m a little drunk. My head is swimming, and everything is funny. Aden is just as bad, though, so I don’t care. We’re having fun.

  “So, Millie, what do you want to do next?” he asks, slurring my name. We are both sitting on one of the huge brown leather sofas. He’s slouched back, and his head is facing me, making me feel self-conscious but on top of the world at the same time. I’ve had enough drink to tell him exactly what I want to do next, but I’m also sober enough to know that it’s probably not the best idea.

  I shrug one shoulder lazily and reply, “Whatever you want. I don’t mind.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he mumbles. The temperature soars another few thousand degrees and my heart leaps out of my chest. He’s staring at me as if I’m the answer to everything. His deep blue eyes pierce into me making me feel as if I’m weightless. He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face and pushes himself up. Moment over. “Pool?”

  Pool? Do I look like I want to play fucking pool? “Yeah okay,” I reply quietly.

  He grabs another bottle of vodka from the fridge on the way to one of the doors on the right side of the house. I’ve not been given the tour, but I know behind one of those flush to the wall white doors is a bathroom. The other two are a mystery. Leisure room, probably.

  “Come on then.” I walk ahead of him to where’s nodded, last door. I’m right, his leisure room. Aden bumps into me as I halt just inside the door, his arm shoots around my waist to steady me, even though I wasn’t stumbling.

  “Sorry,” he whispers in my ear, turning my legs to jelly. He lets go and walks to the pool table, setting it up. I’m still dumbstruck. His leisure room is home to his pool table, piano, drums and guitar, two arcade games, two large round sofa chairs and half a back wall that’s lined with shelves full of DVDs and video games. There’s no TV, but the chairs are pointed to the end wall, so I guess a screen comes up from the floor or down from the ceiling. He has another small screen on the wall, and if I was feeling braver – I don’t want to break anything – I’d press a few buttons and see.

  I ignore the butterflies in my stomach and swallow my lust. How much longer am I going to be able to resist him for? I have no idea how I’m getting Dad’s car or even getting home, but I really don’t care. When I’m with him, I don’t care about anything else. Aden smirks, raising his eyebrows at me as he holds out the pool cue. I walk over to him slowly, and neither of us take our eyes off each other.

  Chapter Four

  We play pool for a while and continue drinking before Aden decided to put some music on. I’d not heard of the songs before, but he tells me it’s a young guy he’s recently signed who will be releasing his album next year. His voice – Harry Palmer’s – is soulful, and I know it will be a hit.

  He stumbles across his game room towards the stereo, Harry’s voice is long gone, and we’ve been cruising through the late nineties for the last twenty minutes. “What do you want, Millie?” he slurs, giving me a cheeky smile and a wink.

  “I don’t care,” I reply, already dancing around the room, lost in the very end of Sweet Like Chocolate. When I dance, in my head I look like Beyoncé, but I’m sure the reality is very, very different. I don’t care, though.

  The music stops as Aden finds something to put on. I stop and wait. After a second, music blasts from the speakers and I burst out laughing. He’s put on ‘Luv me, Luv me’ by Shaggy. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he teases, laughing and grabbing me around the waist. The alcohol is telling me it’s a good idea to touch him so I run my hands up his muscular chest and he pulls me closer. We’re chest to chest and his hands curl around me, resting on my lower back.

  We continue swaying against each other, half due to the now slow music and half due to the alcohol sloshing around in our system. I yawn as tiredness suddenly hits me like a bus. I know as soon as I lay down I’ll be asleep.

  “The room’s spinning,” I mumble. My legs hit the side of the sofa; I take that as a much welcome sign that I should sit so flop down onto it.

  “Mmm hmm,” he mutters in reply to my comment and sits beside me.

  I slowly open my eyes, but I still can’t see. Everything is dark. My head throbs and I groan. Why did I drink again? My stupid mouth feels like I’m swallowing sand. Why can’t I see? I lift my head up a little, and my eyes widen in shock. My head was resting on something very comfortable – Aden’s lap!

  I shoot up, embarrassed, and my head swims. Oh my God please, please let him have fallen asleep before I laid my head in his lap. Of course knowing my luck I would have dropped first. When did we even move to the living room?

  Trying to be quiet by tiptoeing towards the door, I grab my bag and attempt to leave before he wakes up. What the hell do I do now, though? If I go, he will know I run off in the morning. I pace around the kitchen, trying to come up with a plan.

  Okay I can just act normal. He possibly doesn’t know that I slept on him, and he was as drunk as me last night. I take a deep breath and grab two mugs from the cupboard so I can make us both a strong coffee. He’s in the same situation as me, so there is no need for any awkwardness or quick exits.

  Aden is still sleeping on the sofa in the same position I left him in when I walk back behind the wall. I put the coffees down and gently nudge his shoulder. “Aden,” I whisper. He stirs a little, frowning and groaning, and then his breath-taking blue eyes are staring at me.

  He looks confused for a second before understanding crosses his face and he sits up. “Hi,” he says sheepishly. Okay not just me wanting to die of embarrassment this morning then.

  “Hi. I made you coffee,” I say, handing him the mug.

  He takes a sip straight away, flinching as it burns his mouth. Just came out of a boiling kettle! I sit down beside him but leave a big gap between us, even though I just want to get back on that lap and snuggle down.

  “Thanks, Millie.” His expression suddenly changes to a huge smirk. Oh no. “So how did you sleep last night?” he asks, trying not to laugh. I love how his eyes sparkle when they’re amused, even if it’s amusement is mostly always at my expense. Oh God, he knows I fell asleep on his lap first.

  My face bursts into flames, but I try to remain casual and unaffected by taking a very small sip of coffee. “Fine, thanks. What about you?” I’m just going to pretend it didn’t happen.

  He chuckles and I’m rewarded with the barely there dimple. “I slept fine.”

  I shrink back in the sofa hoping to disappear as we drink in silence. Out of the corner of my eye I see him smirking still, and I want to throw something at him but, thankfully, I’m still very aware that he is my boss.

  I instantly start worrying that we’re ignoring last night but should talk about it. We should clear the air. After all, we have to work together. Unless, of course, he is about to fire me. I take a deep breath. Please don’t fire me. “Look I’m sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. It was incredibly unprofessional and-”

  “Millie,” he says, holding his hand up. “It’s fine, really. We’re both young and not our parents.” I can’t help smiling at that. We certainly are not our parents – fortunately. “We can make up our own version of a professional relationship. Getting drunk is fine, as is sleeping with your head on my lap.” His grin could light up a Christmas tree. I groan while he laughs.

  He finishes his coffee, still chuckling occasionally and then goes to have a shower before taking me back to the office so I can pick up Dad’s car and go home to get ready. I am so ready to be home – not something I though I’d ever think. I’ve had enough embarrassment to last me the rest of my life, and it’s not even seven a.m. yet.

  We pull into the car park, and I suddenly really realise that I took Dad’s car yesterday. It’s one of the only ones here as it’s still early. Aden looks at me, and a huge grin spreads across his face as he figures it out. “That’s your car?”

  “I
t’s my Dad’s,” I reply quickly. “My brother’s car broke down, blocking mine in so I had to take one of his.” I explain, ignoring him laughing next to me.

  “Your dad has one of the biggest garages I know so what made you decide to take that one?”

  “I did not decide to take it! I grabbed the keys without realising and didn’t have time to go back and swap them without being late.”

  “Right,” he says, winking. I roll my eyes and walk to Dad’s car to go home, desperately needing a shower and change of clothes. It’s only when I start the engine that I stop hearing him laugh.

  The front door opens as soon as I get to the top step, and my mum is standing in front of me – looking royally pissed off. “Morning, Mum,” I say casually, giving her a quick smile.

  “Morning Mum?” she repeats. Uh oh. “What on earth do you think you are doing, Amelie? Get in the house before the neighbours see you.” She pulls me inside and closes the door. I want to mention that over the gates, high walls and perfectly landscaped gardens there was no way anyone will see me. “Where have you been? It is completely unacceptable for you to come home at this hour.” Her voice gets louder and louder as she goes on.

  “I was at a friend’s, Mum, but sorry I didn’t call.” I try to walk past her and refrain from bitching about how I shouldn’t need to tell her where I am because I’m an adult – though I usually did text out of courtesy – but she steps in front of me. We’re having a showdown now?

  “It will not happen again, Amelie,” she says, her lips thin, and she looks like she’s sucking on a lemon – her serious, no nonsense expression. “How do you think it looks with you coming home in the early hours dressed in yesterday’s clothes?”

  Oh lovely, she’s only concerned with how it looks rather than the fact that I could have been murdered last night. Charming. The worst thing is, I’m not even surprised.

  “Now go and see your father. He’s in his study on his laptop, buying you a second car.” She walks off, and I’m left stunned. What? Dad’s buying me another car? Okay as far as punishments go, I’ll admit; this one isn’t bad. I don’t need another car, though. I still feel bad over the price tag of the first one they bought me.