Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

“I can’t work it out. There’s just something not right.” I ran hands through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. “This is doing my head in.”

He watched as the program pulled minuscule amounts of money and transferred them into a newly created account. “The amounts are random.”

“I know.” I blew out another breath. “The program itself is straightforward. The amounts are randomized and mimic fees to ensure they won’t flag as fraudulent. But there’s… something. Something that isn’t quite right.”

Sawyer’s leg jiggled as he tapped fingers rhythmically against the desk.

“Maybe I’m just crazy.” I huffed out a laugh. “I’m probably seeing ghosts where none exist.”

“What if it’s not the program itself, but the way it reacts that’s the issue?”

“What do you mean?”

He tapped the monitor. “This is old code. Like, really ridiculously old. West Investments deserve to have their systems taken out the back and shot. It’s a wonder they’re not riddled with these kind of issues. Their CIO doesn’t deserve the title.”

“They didn’t have a chief information officer. That’s how they got into this mess,” I pointed out.

“If businesses these days…” Sawyer was on a roll, ranting about cybercriminals, organised crime, how privacy is a social construct that one must earn not give away. I tuned him out, having heard it all before.

Finally, Sawyer wound down. “And that’s why the Illuminati are Ravenclaws.” He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest in finality.

I waited, sipping my tea. He didn’t disappoint. Shaking his blond mane, stretching his neck, Sawyer finally leaned towards the computer, reaching for the mouse. “Okay, where were we?”

“The code is old,” I offered.

“Right.” He reached for my mug, taking it and sipping the lukewarm brew. I wrinkled my nose, but he ignored me, eyes firmly on the screen.

“Old code…,” he muttered to himself, drumming fingers on the desk.

A pleasant shiver ran down my back. I glanced over my shoulder, smiling as I caught Luc watching me. Today he’d dressed in a sharp navy suit complete with silver-grey tie. He’d combed his hair back, but a chunk had fallen across his forehead.

I’d sat on the bathtub that morning, watching as he’d trimmed his beard. As much as my heart had hurt watching him remove it, the scruff he’d left behind was devilishly handsome.

He’d done this in preparation of a client meeting. Pax had also attended. I’d spotted them before they left, smartly dressed, game faces on. Whoever the client was, they were big.

Luc pushed off the wall, coming to me. One hand on the back of my chair, the other tangling in my hair, he bent, lips meeting mine in a hungry kiss. We were being obnoxiously happy. Desire and the knowledge that we burned together beautifully, sparked the sexual tension. This was the first time I’d seen him today. It was an unacceptable amount of time.

I tried to draw back, but Luc’s mouth chased mine. A cough interrupted our make-out session. We both turned, heads pressed together, to look at Sawyer. His eyes were firmly on the computer screen.

“Just putting it out there,” he commented, mouse clicking. “There is a bed upstairs.”

The blush burned away desire, leaving embarrassment in its place. I started to withdraw, but Luc stopped my retreat.

“Dude. Uncool.” His hand slid forward, thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. “But thanks for the idea.”

Luc pulled back, capturing my hand in his. He pulled me up, leading me toward the door. Such was his gravitational pull that I didn’t think to question where he led. Sawyer, however, appeared immune to Luc’s charms.

“Where are you taking her?” he yelled, seat swivelling to watch us.

“Home. We’ll see you tomorrow!” Luc called over his shoulder.

“But… work!” Sawyer snapped.

“We’re doing a performance review!” Sawyer’s reply was cut off by the door shutting. At the elevators, Luc pressed the down button. He tapped his foot impatiently, hand squeezing mine.

“Luc–”

The elevator slid open, and he led me in. As the doors began closing, Luc crowded in, backing me into the lift wall. His hands came up, one tangling in my hair, the other caressing my breast. I groaned under his kiss, my needy, wanton body pressing closer.

Luc, I’d learned, enjoyed being in control. He loved diving his hands in my hair, directing my mouth this way or that. Holding me still as he plundered my mouth, feasting on the sensitive zones of my neck.

As the elevator descended, our hands danced, a battle to see who would surrender first. Whose desperation was such that they could no longer stand not being skin-to-skin. The doors slid open in the thankfully empty carpark.

He pulled me, nearly running in our haste. He pushed me up against the passenger door, his wonderfully filthy mouth making me think filthy thoughts. Things like where I wanted him to fuck me, how I wanted it, the raging desire a beast within me that wanted to nip, bite, and suck every part of him.

“I want you,” I panted, hands pulling at his dress shirt. “I want to taste you.”

“Where?” he asked, nipping at my collar bone. “Where do you want to taste me, love?”

My head lolled as he palmed my breast. “Your… cock. I want to–”

He abruptly dropped his hands, stepping back. We panted, staring at each other.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He hesitated for one moment, before swearing under his breath. “Get in the car, Emmie.”

“But–”

He turned his back, rounding the bonnet to the driver’s side. I slid in, depressingly deprived of his heat. Luc started the car, his jaw clenching as we sped out of the underground park.

I caught a glimpse of his face, as he navigated the streets.

“Luc?”

“Shh, Keys.” His hand reached out, finding mine.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, my uncertainty, my inexperience feeding my insecurities.

His head turned, his eyes searing. He dropped the mask, letting me see raw unadulterated need.

“No.” The word was a tortured groan. “Never.”

I squeezed his hand before he removed it, changing gears. We drove in silence until we