Experimenting With Ed (3 page)

From her new position, they were almost an even height. Claire caught a quick glimpse of narrowed silver eyes before he brought his mouth to hers, and once again she was caught in a kiss. Her fingers tangled in his hair, slid over his head and lower so she could massage the thick strength of his neck. As her hands explored his shoulders, she tugged impatiently at the fabric of his shirt until he pulled away from her to yank the offending garment over his head.

As soon as his shirt sailed across the closet, Claire yanked his mouth back to hers. He came willingly, finding her lips with eager urgency, nipping and tugging with his teeth before soothing the imaginary hurts with his tongue.

Her hands caressed the hard curves and hollows of his shoulders and upper arms, her fingertips digging for purchase but not finding any in his unyielding flesh. As he kissed and licked his way down her throat, Ed unzipped her sweatshirt and the quiet rasp of the zipper pulled a shiver down her spine. Feeling suddenly boneless, Claire let her head fall back as the point of his tongue traced her collarbone.

When he dragged the neckline of her tank and the cups of her bra down, and cool air brushed her painfully tight nipples, Claire didn’t hesitate. She arched her back, wordlessly demanding his mouth on her breasts. Ed took what she offered, his lips closing on a nipple, drawing a low moan from her throat.

He sucked at the tip and Claire melted. His mouth was so hot, so wet, and she could feel each pull of his lips all the way to her pussy. Needing an anchor, she buried her fingers in Ed’s hair, closing her fists and giving a sharp tug. At the pull, his teeth closed on the tip of her breast, hard enough to snap her head forward.

His head came up too. “Sorry!” he rasped.

After the initial shock of the pinch passed, hot pleasure flowed in to take its place. Claire smiled at him. “I’m not. Do it again.”

Those heated silver eyes held hers for several seconds, as if he were checking her sincerity. Tugging at his head, she urged his mouth down to her other breast and he closed his lips around the stiff point. Despite her request, his mouth was relentlessly gentle, his tongue soft against her skin.

“Please,” Claire begged, lightly tugging on his hair. “Do it again?”

He hesitated, looking up at her, and she held her breath, her fingers working against his head, massaging his scalp. His teeth closed lightly, a tiny press she could hardly feel.

“Harder,” she insisted. Flicking another quick glance at her, Ed obeyed, nipping her sharply. Claire sucked in a breath as pleasure rippled across her skin, arousal shooting though her body and tightening every muscle. “Yes!” she hissed and he growled, giving her nipple another pinch with his teeth before pulling his head back.

Before she could protest, his hand was working the button on her jeans and lowering her zipper. Both hands moved to her back and, pushing up her sweatshirt and tank, dived down the back of her jeans. Latching her legs around his hips, Claire seized his shoulders so she could support her weight and lift her body off the shelf.

His fingers plunged beneath the waistband of her panties, working lower until his hands cupped her ass. He squeezed and massaged her cheeks as Claire buried her face against his shoulder, every nerve in her body sharply aware of the proximity of his fingers to her pussy. She was desperate for Ed to lay her on the floor of the closet and strip off her jeans and panties, frantic for his tongue or fingers or cock to ram inside her.

Ed stiffened and his hands slid out of her jeans. After a disbelieving second, Claire tried to raise her head and ask why he had stopped when she really, really wanted him to continue, but he pushed her head back into his shoulder. All that came out of her mouth was a muffled but indignant, “Wfffhh?”

“Shh,” he warned.

As her lust-clouded brain began to clear, Claire realized he had probably heard someone else in the building. She lifted her head and strained her ears but all she could hear was her thudding heartbeat.

“What?” she whispered again.

He gave a shake of his head and touched his ear, as if to say
listen
.

She tried. Even as her heart slowed to a more normal rate, all she could hear was silence. Just before she was going to tell Ed he was imagining things, she heard the muffled thump of the front door swinging shut and then the rustle and squeak of someone walking down the hall.

How did he know?
Claire wondered, amazed. He’d heard whoever had interrupted their hot-and-heavy session in the supply closet long before that person had even entered the building.

He must have ears like a bat
, she marveled.

A door closed. It sounded right next to them, so Claire guessed it was Gordon who had unwittingly interrupted them.

“It’s him,” Ed murmured, confirming her thoughts.

“Well, shit,” she sighed. Belatedly realizing what she had said, Claire clapped both hands over her mouth.

Ed smiled, the very first smile she had seen from him, and her stomach spun in a dizzy loop. Her hands fell away from her mouth as she stared at him, marveling. In her first glimpse of him at the club, she had thought he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen but now…
now
he was positively unearthly.

The smile disappeared. “What?”

Shaking her head, Claire had to smile at his defensive scowl. “This,” she told him, framing that gorgeous face with her hands. “The mind…it boggles.” She couldn’t help it—she had to lean in and kiss him.

With an almost soundless growl, Ed wrapped his hand around the back of her head, deepening the kiss. His other arm snaked around her hips, flattening her against him. They knocked against the metal shelf and it rocked back, rattling against the wall. They both froze at the noise.

After a few seconds, the ridiculousness of their situation struck Claire and she felt giggles bubbling up. She buried her face against Ed’s bare shoulder to stifle any sound that might escape.

“Claire?” Gordon’s voice echoed down the hallway.

She almost choked. “Put me down,” she whispered in Ed’s ear and he complied, slowly lowering her to her feet. Claire steadied herself with a hand flattened against his chest and glanced down to see her sweatshirt gaping open, her tank top pushed down below her pointed nipples, still swollen and damp from his mouth.

“Eep,” she squeaked, pulling her shirt to cover her breasts, feeling a red flush creep up her neck and across her cheeks. She fumbled with the zipper until Ed gently pushed her clumsy hands aside and zipped her up himself.

A flash of jealousy hit her as she watched those confident hands, so assured and capable. Claire wondered how many times he had done something like this, how many women had yanked him into the nearest supply closet or back room or Porta Potti, too dazzled by his size and beauty to care that their boss was in the office right next door.

Ed cocked the questioning eyebrow. She realized she was glaring at him for his imaginary offenses and all because he had zipped her sweatshirt. Rolling her eyes at her silly fit of insecurity, she just shook her head at his unspoken query and wiggled around him to the closet door. After a final check to make sure all her critical body parts were securely covered, Claire took a deep breath and opened the door just far enough to stick her head out into the hall.

Gordon, standing in his office doorway, looked at her in surprise.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I thought I heard a crash.”

Giving him a bright smile, she chirped, “Sure! Just looking for some…uh, paper clips.”

He looked at her curiously. “Aren’t they right on top of the three-ring binders?” Moving toward the supply closet, he offered, “Here, I’ll show you.”

“No!”

When Gordon jerked back, startled, Claire realized she had been a little…strident.

“What I mean,” she amended with forced calm, “is I’ve found them—right where you said they were. I just caught my…um, sweatshirt on the…ah, shelf and so…hmm. Yeah, so I’ll be right out.” She made herself stop babbling and gave him another toothy smile. “Just need to grab those…staples,” she muttered as she pulled her head back into the closet.

“I thought it was paper clips.” Gordon’s voice was still audible through the barrier of the door.

Claire sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes at Ed, who she was sure would have been grinning if he did that sort of thing. To her disappointment, he’d put his shirt back on, hiding the awe-inspiring view of his chest.

“I need both,” she yelled, not bothering to open the door.

Even muffled, the skepticism in Gordon’s grunt came through loud and clear. “Whatever,” he called back, sounding annoyed. “Come see me when you’ve found your way out of the supply closet. I have to talk to you.” The door to his office slammed.

“Now I just want to stay in here all day,” Claire whispered.

“Bad liar,” was Ed’s only softly spoken comment.

Blowing her hair off her face, she gave a small shrug. “Aren’t I though? I could never be a super-spy.”

“No.”

She scowled at him. “You don’t have to agree quite so quickly. Just because you’re able to operate a zipper under stressful circumstances—”

Ed stopped her tirade by kissing her again. When he finally pulled back, she couldn’t remember what she had been saying. Actually, she couldn’t remember her own name. Claire blinked at him.

“You’ve already figured out how to shut me up,” she whispered, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Doesn’t last long,” he replied.

She stared. “A joke? Did you just make a joke?”

His scowl snapped back into place. “No.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Didn’t.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” She gave him her most innocent look. She might have even batted her eyelashes.

He switched topics suddenly. “I’ll walk you home tonight.”

Shaking her head, she told him, “It’s perfectly safe. You don’t have to—”

“What time?”

She opened her mouth to argue but closed it when she saw Ed’s implacable expression. Besides, Gordon was still waiting in his office for her to come out of the closet. “Fine. Come by a little after five. I really don’t need a bodyguard, though.”

His grunt was skeptical.

Claire stuck her head out into the hallway.

“All clear,” she whispered, stepping back and glancing over her shoulder at Ed. As he slipped by her, he brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Goodbye, little mouse,” he murmured.

Claire hid her excited shiver at his touch by rolling her eyes, although she couldn’t stop the smile that peeked out. “We really need to think of a better nickname for me.”

He didn’t bother responding to her comment, except for a final shake of his head. With that, Ed was gone.

Sagging against the door, Claire let her body weight swing it closed, barely having the presence of mind to catch the doorknob before it slammed shut.

“Whoa,” she breathed. The previous few minutes seemed unreal. Had she really been making out in a supply closet with an unnaturally gorgeous man she had just met the night before? And at eight thirty in the morning?

Blowing out a breath, she forced herself to focus on listening for the quiet thud of the front door closing behind Ed but there was only silence. She frowned. In fact, she hadn’t even heard his footsteps. He wasn’t still waiting outside the closet, was he?

Claire peeked out but the hallway was empty. “Wow, he’s stealthy,” she muttered to herself as she stepped from the tiny room. Now that Ed was safely out of the building, there was no reason to hide. She allowed the door to shut behind her with a solid thunk. There were also no more ways to avoid Gordon’s little “talk”.

With a resigned sigh and a final brush of her hands over her hair, Claire knocked on Gordon’s office door.

Chapter Three

To Claire’s surprise, the talk wasn’t about the previous night.

Gordon stared at her in silence for a long time. She forced herself not to squirm, although horrifying thoughts began spinning through her brain. Could Gordon tell? Was the make-out session with Ed somehow showing on her face? Did she have whisker burn? A hickey?

“As you know,” Gordon started, making Claire jump. She had been so caught up in her paranoid thoughts she had almost forgotten the reason she was in his office. Gordon was still talking and she forced herself to pay attention. “The research results could be more definitive,” he was saying.

Claire stared at him. “They
are
definitive,” she stated. “The injections aren’t working.”

His mouth drew into a tight knot. “The hypothesis is sound,” he defended. “We just need to tinker with the research method, that’s all.”

“You don’t have time for that,” Claire said, confused. “The presentation to the board is in less than two weeks. Even if we changed something today, we wouldn’t have time to see any results, much less write them up.”

“That’s the thing.” His words were slow, as if he were thinking as he spoke, his fingers stroking down the lines of facial hair that ran on either side of his mouth. Claire was, as always, reminded of pubic hair and she shuddered, grossed out at the image. She wished he would stop touching his goatee—the picture of Gordon’s fingers petting any woman
there
was just nauseating. Now, if it were Ed’s fingers instead… Claire swallowed hard, crossing her legs to squeeze away the urgent flare of need.

“Yes?” she asked, finally realizing he had trailed off.

“Joelle, Nadine and I were discussing this last night, after you…left.” He paused a moment, obviously waiting for Claire to jump in with explanations and apologies. She remained silent, merely borrowing Ed’s favorite expression and raising one eyebrow. With an irritated grimace, Gordon continued, “We decided that, well, it would be for the greater good if we presented the results in such a way the board would see the potential of this research.”

After a second of stunned silence, Claire asked, “You’re going to falsify the data?”

“No!” Gordon jumped in quickly—too quickly. “Of course not.”

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically. “That’s good. Because that sounds like a great way to ruin your reputation and end your career.”

“You—” He snapped his mouth shut, his face flushing a deep red. After several deep breaths, he began again, his voice deliberately patient enough to set Claire’s teeth on edge. “You need to understand a lot is riding on this grant.”

“I
know
a lot is riding on this grant,” she answered, mimicking his condescending tone. “My
job
is riding on this grant. That doesn’t mean we should lie about the success of the treatment. Besides, it would be impossible—the CT scans tell the true story.”

Gordon waved a dismissive hand. “Scans can be redone. After all, one rat looks just like another.”

“You’re serious.” She stared at him, overcome by a new level of disgust. “You’re actually going to fake positive results.”

“Claire!” His false patience apparently gone, Gordon slapped both palms on the top of his desk as he lurched to his feet, glaring at Claire across his desk. “This is my last chance. I don’t have a choice!”

Although her knees were shaking, she stood up to face him. “You
do
have a choice. So do I—I quit.”

“Then go,” Gordon spat. “But remember you signed a confidentiality agreement. You tell anyone anything about this research and I’ll sue you.”

“I don’t think that agreement covered fraud,” she shot back. “I won’t say anything unless you lie about the results. You fake that report, I
will
find out and I’ll be making my very own presentation to the board.”

His face was purple with rage. Matching him glare for glare, Claire hid the fact that she was pants-wettingly terrified.

“Get the fuck out,” he choked, and she did, leaving his office with a straight back and shaking legs.

* * * * *

She was halfway home before the full impact of what had happened hit her. Her legs gave out and she plopped down on the sidewalk. No one else was around, for which Claire was grateful—she really didn’t want to answer the inevitable, “Are you okay?” if a passerby were to see her sitting in the middle of the sidewalk.

The wind cut through her sweatshirt, undoing the efforts of the morning sun, and Claire realized she’d forgotten her coat when she’d grabbed her purse before she left. That was the only thing she owned at the lab—even the laptop she’d used wasn’t hers. She shivered and hugged her knees. So, what now?

Ever since she’d gotten a paper route at age twelve, she’d been earning money. In the past fifteen years, she had never quit a job without having another lined up, a definite way to pay for handy things like rent and food and electricity. This was the first time she had quit in the heat of the moment, been unemployed so suddenly and without warning, and Claire did not like the sensation one bit.

“I’ll be okay,” she told herself out loud.
I will
, she decided, forcing a firm nod. She had a small balance in her savings account, enough for a couple months if she was careful, and she’d already applied to a few other labs.

Maybe I’ll even get a call for an interview today
, she thought with determined optimism, pushing herself to her feet.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known this was coming. It was just…not today. Today was for marveling over Ed, for walking by the supply closet more times than necessary just so she could smile secretively at the door, for watching the clock impatiently as five o’clock approached and he arrived to—

Oh shit
, she thought as she stopped in her tracks. Ed was supposed to walk her home. Claire realized she couldn’t even call him, since she hadn’t gotten his number. Shaking her head at her stupidity, she resumed walking toward home. She’d figure that out later. Now she needed to get to the library and start searching on the internet for a new job.

* * * * *

Who says I’m not a super-spy?
Claire thought with a snort of laughter, tugging the brim of her baseball hat lower on her forehead. She sipped her coffee and pretended to read the newspaper in front of her, but her eyes were focused out the café window on the lab across the street.

She was feeling more cheerful after a day at the library, perusing the help-wanted sites. A feeling of relief had crept in, happiness to be gone from under Gordon’s thumb and away from any involvement in the research scam. Even if she couldn’t get a lab job right away, she could always wait tables again to make ends meet. Not getting a reference from her last job might me a problem—she grimaced when she thought of what Gordon might say to any potential employer who called asking about her qualifications—but she could call up her last boss from two years before.

Her musings were interrupted as, across the street, the lab door opened. Joelle and Nadine spilled out, their heads close together as they walked to where their cars were parked. Shaking her head, Claire absently made circles on the tabletop with her coffee cup.

How can they be so willing to fall in with Gordon’s idiotic plan?
Their hero-worship of him had always baffled Claire. To her, he had always been a horny little toad.

“Am I late?”

The smooth voice made her jump two feet in the air. “What are you doing in here?” she asked Ed, who was standing next to her table, looking more gorgeous than she remembered.

He gave her a questioning look, sliding into the booth next to her. “
You’re
here.”

His heat lit up her entire body and she had to swallow hard before she could talk. “How did you know that?”

He shrugged. “Saw you.”

“You did? From outside?” At his nod, Claire pouted a little in disappointment. “But I’m in disguise!”

Ed didn’t even bother to raise a mocking eyebrow at that, since his eyes were fixed on her protruding lower lip. He cupped her jaw in his hand and brushed the object of his focus with his thumb. Claire’s breaths shortened to pants.

He leaned in, staring at her mouth, and she was sure he was going to kiss her. Instead, he dropped his hand and sat back.

She blinked.
Obviously, I’m misreading his signals
, she figured, and then glanced down at Ed’s lap.
Or not.
She stared at the huge bulge fighting to escape his jeans.

“Stop,” he grunted.

Claire’s eyes flew to his face and she flushed guiltily at being caught looking at his crotch. “Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing down at her coffee.

“No control.”

Her gaze jumped back to his in surprise. “What?”

“Around
you
. I don’t have any control,” he explained but she still stared at him, confused. “If I look or touch or…kiss.” His voice lowered to grit on the last word. “Just your smell makes me crazy.”

She squirmed a little with embarrassment and pleasure. “I smell?” she asked, intentionally misunderstanding, whether to break the heavy, urgent, overwhelming mood or to fish for more compliments, she wasn’t sure.

“Good,” he amended hastily. “You smell good. Makes me want to fuck you right here.” He looked almost uncertain for a moment. “Sorry—that okay?”

“Ah,” Claire stuttered, unsure what he was asking permission to do. “Okay to say or okay to do?” His eyes, already hot with arousal, narrowed to silver slits. A rush of damp heat between her legs erased all caution. Without thinking, she added, “It doesn’t matter. Either way, the answer is yes.”

With a growl, he lurched toward her. For a second she thought he really was going to do it—he was going to fuck her right in that booth in front of all the people innocently sipping their lattés, unaware of the show that was just moments away.

Ed halted, as if he had hit an invisible wall, pulling back and swinging around to the other side of the booth, putting the safety of the table between them. His eyes still held her transfixed.

“Am I late?” he finally asked. His voice, normally so liquid and smooth, was rough, scraping against her nerve endings. She shivered and swallowed, her brain refusing to process his question.

“Huh?” was all she could manage.

“You’re here,” he clarified.

“Oh!” The light finally clicked on. “No, you’re early. I’m here because I quit.”

His eyebrow shot up.

“Gordon wanted me to…” She hesitated, searching for the words to explain without saying too much. “Um, to do something I’m not comfortable doing.”

“I’ll kill him.” Ed’s eyes went flat and he was halfway out of the booth before Claire caught his wrist.

“No, no,” she hurried to reassure him. “Nothing like that. Something I’m not
professionally
comfortable with.”

Slowly easing back down, Ed gave a short nod. “Wants you to lie about the research results?”

“How did you—” Claire broke off and winced. “I’m not very discreet, am I?”

“Makes sense.” He shrugged. “He won’t get the money unless he has the results. Doesn’t have the results. Faking it is the only way to the money.”

“Well, yeah. Pretty much.” She bit her lip. “He said he won’t go through with it but…”

“He will.”

Heaving a sigh, Claire propped her chin on the heel of one hand and looked ruefully at Ed from beneath the brim of her baseball cap. “Probably.”

Almost smiling, he reached over and pulled the hat from her head. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders.

“Want me to talk to him?” he asked. His voice was even but the infinitesimal pause before “talk” made Claire wince even as she laughed.