Man's Best Friend by Ec Sheedy

close her eyes, to trust she knew what was coming. His troubled gaze didn't let her.
    He touched her hair, buried his fingers in it, lifting it and smoothing it behind her ears.
    "This is a bad idea," he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. "A really bad idea." Again his mouth touched hers, so softly, so deftly, every cell in her body shivered to attention. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she was certain he'd hear it.
    With his mouth against hers, she closed her eyes, let go, and gave herself to the growing need his lips coaxed to life. He deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entry, slowly, expertly. She opened to him, heard herself moan when the tip of his tongue flashed against the corner of her mouth.
    Her senses responded all at once, aroused by Rand's drugging kiss. His tongue probed, his teeth nibbled, his lips teased—then demanded.
    Still they were inches apart, one of Rand's hands against the door above her head, the other gripping her waist. Tessa's hands were clasped behind her as if handcuffed to the doorknob. They weren't close enough. Not nearly. She needed the heat of him, hard against her. But Rand kept a slight but definite distance between them.
    She brought her hands to his chest. Palms flat, she rubbed his nipples, teased them with her nails. His breathing ragged, he lifted his head.
    Abruptly, he stepped away, leaving her to slump back against the door. He glared at her briefly, then paced a few steps and turned back.
    He looked like a dog on a chain, his bone out of reach.
    Tessa struggled to get her bearings, not easy when every muscle in her body had turned to mush. If Rand didn't like kissing her, so be it. But somehow that didn't seem to be the problem. Unless, of course, her brain had melted, and she wasn't thinking straight. A definite possibility.
    His gaze slid back to hers. "I apologize," he said, his tone cool, his enunciation precise. "That shouldn't have happened."
    She puzzled over this. "Why?"
    "Why?" he repeated, seeming surprised by her question.
    "Yes, why? I'm over twenty-one—"
    "Barely." He snorted, ran his hand through his hair, and started to pace the hall again. "But that's not it."
    "Then what is?"
    He stopped pacing and came back to study her. "You're not mine to kiss and even if you were—" He shook his head.
    Tessa knit her brows, tried to make sense of that. "I don't get it." Light dawned. "Oh... maybe I do. I'm your employee—in a way—and you don't mess around with your staff. Right?"
    He looked relieved. "Close enough."
    Of course! Employers had to be careful about such things, especially ones as rich and powerful as Rand. There were lines not meant to be crossed, but in less than a second she decided this wasn't one of them.
    She stepped closer to him, placed her hands on his chest and made slow circular motions. She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his eyes. "But what if the staff wants to mess around with you?"
    He took her hands in his, hesitated, then forced them back down to her sides. "She'd be wasting her time and mine." His expression hardened. "Go to bed, Tessa. Forget this ever happened."
    With that he strode away.
    Tessa's stomach lurched, but she didn't blush. Rand's icy rejection hadn't left enough heat for that. Half stunned and one hundred percent confused, she watched his broad back disappear into his room. When all trace of him left the hall—when the last of his scent faded—she went into her room. She walked to her bed but hadn't the energy to lift the covers and get in. Instead, she sat on its edge and hugged herself, pressing her arms against her thundering heart.
    She couldn't figure it out. She and Rand had kissed, and about the time they were both... softening, he'd turned to granite.
    Why?
    She should be humiliated by his rejection, but instead, she was intrigued. Dangerously so. And she should be hurt, but she couldn't find any hurt either.
    She felt only an overload of frustrated longing—and avid curiosity. Frightening,