Chapter 5 Hiding From Hubby

GWEN

Let me make it clear, I've never been what anyone would call a 'bad girl'.

Gen had all the rebel genes, while I covered her ass from trouble every day since primary school.

Until now.

My armpits feel damp, and my entire body shivers. Oh, dear God, I hope it's the nanny who's secretly robbing Tom.

Someone clears their throat in a deep guttural way.

It's Tom.

That's much worse.

I hear him hum a hip-hop song, and grit my teeth as he settles into his chair, leaning back into the hardwood side of the desk while staring at his long legs. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and suppress the urge to exhale with frustration.

It's impossible to imagine how the movies make spying so easy. I could already imagine the worst-case scenarios, like Tom finding a legit reason to get me out of the picture.

"Hello?" Tom says. "No, this is your boss, Emily. Did you organize my meeting notes already? I don't want to miss any details for the upcoming one."

Silence.

I shut my eyes as I realize he wasn't talking to me.

"No, I'm not going to apologize to the Tanaka Group. What's wrong with saying I did jiu-jitsu as a kid? It was a fucking icebreaker. Everyone laughed. You need to learn to read a room."

A snort escapes from my lips before I can stop it. My hand covers my mouth too late.

Maybe he's too distracted to have heard that.

Tom's foot brushes against my thighs and ducks his head under the desk, with a phone pressed to his ear.

Our eyes meet.

I think about fainting, just dropping to the floor like last time, but Tom and I end up doing the worst staring contest in history.

"See you at work, Emily," he says and raises his head. "Are you going to keep sitting there all night, Mrs. Ciccotelli?"

My shoulders slump, but I crawl out, bumping my head on the table top.

"Ow," I murmur.

I push myself past his legs, grabbing his thigh for support.

This humiliation is worse than the time I covered for Gen and had to spend the day writing 'I must not call my teacher a shithead' in my notebook.

"Could you at least move?" I groan and let out a small breath as I come face-to-face with Tom.

He gives me a straight look. "Well, I'm not planning to make this comfortable for you, Mrs. Ciccotelli."

My belly twists into knots. "Please don't call me that. We're not in the fifties."

Sometimes the best way to avoid conflict is to run.

I start to jog for the door, only for Tom to grab my hand and drag me back. I collided with his broad chest. His gaze is hard and furious.

Anger bites into my chest.

"Use your words not your paws, you absolute jerk" I hiss.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" He asks. "Don't come in here unless I tell you to. Did you take anything?"

I pull myself free and grip my fists. How can he be so infuriating?

Something catches my eye, and I sweep past him to grab my phone off his desk. Tom's eyes flicker with confusion.

"I left this behind," I raise the smartphone. "I wanted to text my best friend in London. You should at least check for evidence before accusing me of stealing!"

Tom hesitates from speaking, and I nearly wheeze with relief.

Good, get him distracted.

"Why were you hiding?" He asks.

Damn it.

"Who's Emily?" I toss back.

Tom closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. "Hey, don't get jealous, and Emily's my executive assistant-"

I let out a sharp gasp. "I am not. Why would I be?"

"Because I saw the way your eyes flared up when you asked that question. Your voice is a dead giveaway." He answers. "You're jealous. "

My mouth hangs open, not because Tom is dead wrong, but because he could read my body language.

Tom's lips crook up and his eyes light up with humor that sends a warm ripple through my stomach.

Danger fills the air, along with desire.

He steps closer to me. Tall. Mediterranean. Our eyes lock.

"But you don't have to worry a damn thing, Red." He reaches for my hair and neatly tucks it behind my ear, goosebumps swell on my skin.

I don't like this at all. How he makes me feel as if I were a secondary school girl again.

"Till death do us part," he whispers.

I shake my head. "You are so-"

His mouth lowers over mine. Just a breath away. Mine parts open.

My heart vibrates in a hard rhythm.

Okay.

Just this once.

It feels like fire surging through my body; his tongue clashes with mine, seizing control. My arms wrap around his shoulders, and my fingers curiously grab his thick hair.

His hands glide down my back smoothly and guide me into his firm body.

Resisting this man is futile. Every inch of my mind begs to stop this madness, but my body wants more. Through the fabric of his pyjama bottoms, his rigid arousal grinds against my stomach.

"Tom." I pull away, my chest heaving up and down. I bite down on my lower lip. His eyes flutter, and I see desire through them.

"You're very good at this." He releases his hold on me, and somehow I feel the pull of a magnet wanting to reach again.

I raise a brow. "At what?"

"Kissing," he replies. "At the wedding. I swore it was formal, but you wanted more. Didn't you?"

I swallow deeply. "Oh, come on."

While turning around to get away from him, Tom moves faster, and circles me.

"Aren't you a bit curious?" Tom asks.

"That smooth talking isn't going to work on me," I reply.

But he is right. I pull my hand away and frantically hit the edge of the desk.

I can't believe how clumsy I am at this moment.

"Then let your body do the work, Gwen," he says.

He lunges forward and grabs my waist. I hold my breath as he pushes his mouth to my neck, and I let out a small moan.

Tom's fingers slip under my night shirt. My breath slows down as he draws lazy fingers up until they find my breast.

Then the world went crazy.