Every move you make
And every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake
I'll be watching you

The Police "Every Breath You Take"

EPOV

I had ground my teeth as I watched Sookie get reamed by Russell on the cameras. Despite Russell's harsh treatment of her, she kept my confidence. I wasn't yet sure what that meant.

Russell was out of control, and it was obvious that things were going to blow up soon. He was erratic, backed into a corner, and that made him dangerous. The only thing I didn't know was if Sookie would be safe from his fallout.

I chuckled at the footage of William Compton hitting on her in an asinine way, and was somehow proud of her response to him. She didn't take bullshit and seemed very intelligent. I just didn't know if that would work to my advantage. I was mulling it over as I heard Pam walk into the viewing room behind me.

I paused the shot when Amelia Broadway walked into the cubical, and zoomed in on Sookie's face.

"She's a pretty one." Pam leaned over my shoulder, her perfume wafting around me. "Too bad she's a criminal."

I fought the urge to sneeze. "I'm not so sure anymore, Pam. This bears more investigation."

Pam sighed and turned my chair around so I would face her. "Sophie-Ann doesn't want to risk any more funds, Eric. She wants this done quickly and without press. We know that Russell's involved and that he's not doing it alone."

I studied Pam, taking in her long legs, slim frame, and tightly coiled blonde hair. She was probably the most attractive Director of Security I had ever seen, and she used her attractiveness to her advantage. That was part of what made us great friends – we had similar attack styles. We had long ago determined we were too alike to be romantic, and our respect for each other had grown by leaps and bounds. When Sophie-Ann asked me to work with Pam to uncover an embezzling plot, I had almost laughed with delight. Thieves didn't stand a chance against the two of us.

Except now, all signs were pointing to Sookie Stackhouse as the culprit.

"The activity began before she started here, Pam." I pointed out, still not quite certain of her guilt…or her innocence.

"And increased once she came here, Eric. Her signature is on all the faulty forms. It all points to her." Pam smirked at me. "Don't assume she's not guilty, Eric, just because you want to put your dick in her."

I didn't think that deserved a reply, even though a part of me was questioning my own motives. Was I thinking with my dick? Because she certainly intrigued me, and it wasn't just because she could be embezzling money from the company.

"We know that Russell has help. But I'm just not convinced she's the one helping him." I glanced at the screen again, studying Sookie's face. "She's so obedient. So pliant."

I could feel Pam studying me. I might have said too much. "I saw how pliant she was in the boardroom, Eric."

Damn. I definitely said too much. Still, I looked at Pam unapologetically. "You have your methods of getting information, and I have mine."

Pam gave me a sly grin, acknowledging our superiority. "Still, how could this be happening without her knowledge? It's all right under her nose. Is she stupid?"

I shook my head. "She's not stupid, Pam. But she is new. Russell could have told her anything, training her to do things a certain way so that it wouldn't be questioned. She's not stupid, but she might be very naïve."

Pam actually almost giggled. "Ooh, an innocent. That's what's intriguing you, Eric. You want to bone a virgin."

I turned back to the screen and started the playback again. "She's no virgin," I muttered as we both listened to the women's conversation. When the other woman mentioned my shirt, and I saw the blush rise on Sookie's face, I felt myself grow hard. I knew she was remembering the feel of my hands on her skin, the heat of my breath against her neck. My fingers curled with want, aching to touch her as I wanted, to tell her how to please me and watch with satisfaction as she obeyed.

I decided instantly to discover the extent of her innocence, both sexually and professionally; to kill two birds with one stone. Brilliant.

"So, what's your plan now, Eric?" Pam asked.

I couldn't help grinning in anticipation. "Looks like I'm going to Slewie Lewie's tonight, Pamela."

"God help the girl." Pam rolled her eyes and walked out of the room.

SPOV

Okay, so I lovemojitos. Not love as in I like them and feel like we could hang out occasionally, but loveas in I think I want to marry them and have little rum-lime-mint babies. I think my love for them has even surpassed my adoration for tequila shots. Mojitos are tequila shots' older, more sophisticated, and less slutty sibling.

I had come to that amorous conclusion after about my fourth mojito at Slewie Lewie's. I wasn't completely blitzed, just pleasantly buzzed. I certainly wasn't fool enough to try to keep up with Amelia and Arlene, who appeared to be veteran after-work drinkers.

They were out on the dance floor, waving frantically at me, trying to convince me to join them. And I was just drunk enough to consider it seriously. All it would take was the right song, and I would be showing off all my embarrassing dance moves. The only thing stopping me was the knowledge that I would completely embarrass myself in front of my co-workers, and that I would be hobbled the whole weekend after dancing in my stilettos.

"I think they want you to dance," I heard a deep voice chuckle behind me. Rolling my eyes at the obvious attempt at pickup conversation, I turned on my barstool to face a large, broad, muscular chest. My eyes rose slowly, taking in the tight, black t-shirt, the almost-bulging biceps, the deeply tanned skin, the strong jaw with a light scruff of beard, the piercing green eyes, and the mop of unruly black hair.

The man was gorgeous. And he was looking at me expectantly while my mouth hung open.

I am amazing at keeping other people's secrets. I can be a freaking Fort Knox with other people's shit. But when it comes to my own, I'm like an open book. Add alcohol to that, and there is absolutely no internal filter. Anything that pops into my brain comes out my mouth.

"Wow!" I gaped. "You are seriously hot!"

Hottie McHotterson chuckled and ducked his head. Was he embarrassed? Had no one ever informed him of his beauty?

"I don't know about that." He smiled at me, his straight, white teeth gleaming against his dusky complexion.

"No." I put my hand on his arm, not-so-subtly fondling his biceps. "You really are. You should know this." What a travesty of justice if he was not made aware of his gorgeousness. I felt it my duty to correct this egregious error.

He laughed again, somewhat surprised by my earnestness. At that moment, Arlene and Amelia approached – obviously to glom on to Hottie McHotterson and bask in his heat.

"Don't pay any attention to her, honey." Arlene flipped her long, teased red hair over her shoulder and leaned into Hottie. "She's drunk."

I raised myself and looked down my nose at her. "I am not," I said regally.

Amelia cast a skeptical look my way. Arlene was too busy drooling over Hottie.

"I've had a few drinks," I admitted. "But I am not drunk."

Hottie was still grinning at me. I smiled back lazily, wondering how I was going to reach his lips, since he was so much taller than me – even on a barstool – and I really wanted to know how he tasted.

"I'm Arlene."

My co-worker was attempting to mack Mr. McHotterson out from under me. I narrowed my eyes at her. Not gonna happen, floozy.

Hottie looked down at Arlene, who was gripping his arm and rubbing her breasts up against him. It wasn't enough that he could see straight down her low-hanging shirt, but she had to rub her ta-tas on him too. Total overkill.

He looked back at me and responded, "I'm Alcide." Right. Alcide McHotterson.

Arlene, a little put out that he had looked at me while answering her question, giggled maniacally. "What an unusual name!"

Alcide didn't acknowledge her, totally winning points in my book. He just looked at me expectantly.

"Sookie," I smiled at him. "Like cookie, but with an 'S'." I was buzzed enough that I thought that sounded sexy.

"Hmm," he hummed, but his voice was low enough that it was almost like a growl. The sound made my girlie parts tingle. "I like cookies. They're yummy."

"Yeah," Arlene huffed. "But her name isn't 'Cookie', it's 'Sookie'. And she's not yummy."

Alcide looked at Arlene. "Well, I'd say that remains to be seen."

I gave Arlene a triumphant look.

Then Alcide grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bar stool. His hands were calloused, and he totally had this blue collar construction worker vibe going on. Even in my heels, my head only reached to right below his shoulder.

He's even taller than Eric, I thought. And then berated myself for thinking of him. Tonight was about forgetting him.

"Come on." Alcide's warm hand held my own as he led me out onto the dance floor. "I want to see you move."

I briefly considered busting out my mad dance skills, but then Alcide pulled me up against him and began to dance. He actually wasn't half bad. He stayed on beat and wasn't embarrassing, despite his large frame. But, let's face it – when your dance partner is Hottie McHotterson, it doesn't really matter if he has two left feet.

We danced through the first song, and then right into the next, grinding closer each minute. His large hands gripped my hips as his pelvis moved against mine. I pushed myself into him, throwing my arms up over his shoulders as he leaned over to get closer to me. I felt his lips trail down my neck, felt his breath in my ear, and struggled not to think about another man's lips that had followed the same path earlier that day.

Thrusting my hands into the curls at his neck, I buried my nose in his chest, breathing deeply of his scent. A scent that smelled nothing like him. No expensive cologne, no deep, serious undertones – just fabric softener with man underneath. I pulled Alcide's head away from me so that I could gaze up into his eyes. Eyes that were green instead of the ice blue I couldn't get out of my mind.

With help from my mojito courage, I pulled his mouth to mine. To his credit, he didn't shove his tongue down my throat. The kiss was a little on the sloppy side, probably due to our dancing and my intoxication, but it was really very pleasant. Nice enough that I wanted to kiss him again. So I did.

We kept kissing, growing more heated with every touch. His hands moved from my hips up my back to grip my shirt (his shirt) and haul me to him. I could feel the hardness between his legs grinding against me, and knew I was going to need to cool things off in a minute. I wasn't usually the type to make out on the dance floor, and I definitely wasn't going to do more than that tonight.

When I broke the kiss, we were both breathing heavily.

"God, you're sexy," Alcide panted, clutching me closer to him. "I want to see you again."

What the hell, right? Alcide thought I was sexy, and I wouldn't mind seeing him again. At the very least, to make sure that he was still this incredibly hot without my mojito-goggles on.

McHotterson was still horned up. He buried his nose in my neck. "You smell so good," he mumbled. His hands wandered over my back and up my sides. "I love this shirt. It's silk, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," a deeply masculine voice answered him. Every muscle in my body froze.

I saw Alcide look up, then over my shoulder. I didn't need to see. I knew who it was.

Viking.

"It's mine," I heard Eric say from behind me.

"What?" Alcide was confused.

"The shirt," Eric explained. His voice was calm and confident. "It's mine."

Alcide's eyes turned wary as he looked down at me. I saw his gaze dart to my left hand, which was currently gripping his bicep. You won't find a ring, McHotterson. Then he looked back at me with a question in his eyes.

I was resigned. I spent weeks trying to get Eric's attention, and now I had it, like it or not. "It is his shirt," I said flatly, sure that now I wouldn't have the opportunity to see if Alcide was just as attractive when I was sober.

To my surprise, Alcide leaned down to whisper in my ear. "If you ever need me, you can find me at Herveaux and Son Construction." Then he placed a lingering kiss on my cheek.

I felt Eric's hands grip my hips as Alcide stepped back, away from us. He sent a measuring look at Eric before looking down at me. "You be careful," he warned, and then turned and walked off the floor.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch McHotterson leave, and really not wanting to face Eric.

But the Viking would not be ignored. He pulled me slowly back against his body, reminding me of his humiliating dismissal earlier in the meeting room. As before, the heat of his breath slid down my neck, and I shivered, unable to stop my body's reaction to his.

Alcide might be a Hottie McHotterson, but no one compared to Eric.

My breath was quivering, my knees were weak, and the man had never even kissed me. I kept my eyes closed as we began to move – slowly, sensuously. Alcide wasn't a bad dancer, but Eric was total grace. He led, even from his position behind me, and guided my body as he desired. His hands stayed in relative safety on my hips, but our bodies were pressed flush against each other. With my eyes still closed, I concentrated on the feel of the muscles in his chest, the firmness of his thighs. I could feel every subtle movement of his hips. My shoulders were pressed back into him, pushing my breasts out and the neck of my shirt (his shirt) open wider.

Eric brushed his lips up and down my neck. "Bad girl," he breathed against my skin. "I leave you alone for a little while, and you've got men trailing after you already."

Holy crow. He called me a bad girl. Did that mean he was going to punish me? The thought made me wet.

"What am I going to do with you?"

Dear God in Heaven, I felt his tongue dart out to taste me. I swear, I thought I was going to swoon. Instead, I turned in his arms.

For the first time that night, I laid eyes on the Viking, and he took my breath away. Alcide was hot, but Eric was beautiful.

Panic overwhelmed me. What were we doing? Eric was my boss. Or, well, my boss's boss. Was he playing with me? Did he want to fuck me? I wanted to tell myself that I wouldn't settle for that, but I couldn't. I would happily accept anything Eric was willing to give me, and always beg for more. But I couldn't do what he wanted until I knew what he wanted.

"What are you going to do with me?" I asked him.

His glacial eyes studied me, and I know he saw my confusion and my eagerness. I waited with surprising patience, in the middle of the crowded dance floor, for the answer that I knew could change my life.

But, as would become the norm, Eric made a move that surprised me. He grabbed my hand and led me off the dance floor toward the rear of the building. We walked down a dark hallway and out of an emergency exit into the chilly night air. A red Corvette was parked outside the door, and Eric pulled a key fob out of his pocket, deactivated the alarm, and opened the passenger door.

"Get in," he ordered.

A/N - Many thanks to DeeDeeINFJ for being a beta extraordinaire, as well as an incredible inspiration. Check out her story - Eric. It's incredible. Also, thanks to you for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear what you think...