She darts behind her desk and lands in her chair, pulling it up close, almost like she’s using her desk as some sort of protective shield. Too late, I’ve already seen her, and I wholeheartedly approve. “Thank you.”
I don’t know what else to say. All sorts of questions are running through my brain. Like, What happened? Why did you go shopping with Ivy and Marina? What made you decide to give up beige? Is this a temporary thing or permanent, because I don’t know if my heart can take it, seeing you like this every single day.
Instead, I go for the safe and boring. It’s easier. Less risky.
“Did you have a nice weekend?” I slowly approach her desk, noticing the way her fingers shake slightly when she picks up a pile of paper, straightens it and then puts it to the side.
Interesting.
“I did, thank you. How about you?” She picks up a pen and taps it against the edge of her pursed lips. Lips covered by a slick of pale peach gloss, I might add.
It was f**king great. I went and golfed with my best friends, we made a new bet that I can’t touch any woman—including you—for the next forty-five days and then I saw a picture of you and your new look. I jerked off twice, not that seeing your photo with all that sexy-as-fuck hair is related—no, not at all. Then I come to work and see you like this, and all I can think about is how much I want to get my hands on you. All over you.
“It was fine,” I answer, stopping just in front of her desk. She looks up at me, and my gaze drops to the elegant line of her neck, her exposed collarbone. She’s wearing a delicate gold necklace with a little charm dangling from it. I can’t quite tell what it is.
All I know is I want to f**king kiss her right there, where her skin is probably soft and sweet and scented. Follow the thin, tempting line of the necklace, kiss her all around her neck, her nape, her collarbone. Lick and nibble and make her moan.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like me to do for you this morning?”
Her sweet, sultry and slightly trembling voice knocks me from my thoughts and turns them even dirtier, if that’s possible.
Why yes, Miss James. I’d love it if you could perch your pretty little ass right on the edge of your desk, slowly lift your skirt and spread your legs so I can see what you’re hiding under there. Maybe lick your peach glossed lips and say something subtly filthy like, “I’ve got something I’d like you to do, Mr. DeLuca. How about . . . me?”
I blink, hard. Twice. Trying to push the image of Bryn inviting me to f**k her from my head, but it’s just no use. She’s all I can see. Her hands braced behind her on the desk, her spread legs dangling, the skirt of her dress bunched around her waist. I can imagine her wearing skimpy black lace panties, panties I can see right through.
She f**king works for you! Get your mind out of the gutter.
Damn, the state board of equalization could have a field day with me. I’m a pervert of the highest degree.
“Let me make a few calls and check my emails. I’m sure there’s plenty I’ll need you to do today, like usual. This week is going to be a busy one,” I say, my voice brusque as I turn away from her desk and head toward my office door. “You’ll probably need to work late all week, just warning you.”
That statement conjures up more images, ones I hurriedly push out my brain so they don’t clog it all up and distract me again.
“I don’t mind,” she calls after me. “I have a list of things I’m going to follow up on. I’m calling the caterer right now because there are still a few unresolved items, including the final headcount for the party Friday night. I’ll come see you in a bit so we can go over everything.”
“Sounds good,” I say as I open my office door and slam it shut behind me.
My breathing erratic like I just ran around the bases at top speed, I collapse in my chair. Exhaling loudly, I lean my head against the back of it, staring at the ceiling. Bryn’s pretty face, those sexy glossed lips still forefront in my mind.
Holy hell. She looks freaking amazing. Combine all that with her heady scent, her sensible work ethic, that curvy figure, her dependability, those damn black shoes that are giving me heart palpitations, and I’m a dead man.
Forty-three days, and I can’t touch a single woman, or I risk a million-dollar-plus loss. And it’s not that I need the money, it’s the principle of the matter. I won the initial bet fair and square. Now those two so-called friends of mine have changed it up and put me in a bind.
It’s my own damn fault though. I’m the one who agreed to it in the first place.
Worse? All I can think about is touching a woman. Well, a particular one. Sitting a few feet away from me. The same woman who just so happens to work for me.
And the only person I can blame is myself.
Bryn
MATT SLAMS HIS office door with a finality that makes me jump in my chair. My heart racing, I rest my hand over my chest, feel it flutter against my palm like the furiously fast wings of a hummingbird. I hadn’t expected him to walk inside at that particular moment—with my butt in the air. I was searching through the file cabinet looking for an invoice I know I paid after just receiving a past due notice in the weekend’s mail.
So embarrassing, him catching me like that. God.
I found the paid bill. Had started ruffling around looking for something else, I can’t even remember what, when I heard him clear his throat. God, he’d surprised me. I’d nearly leapt out of my skin when I turned to find him standing there, looking as gorgeous as can be. Per his usual, if I’m being truthful.
Not the way I wanted to make an impression. No, I’d planned on sitting behind my desk when I first saw him this morning. Calm, cool, and efficient, offering a bright “good morning” with an equally bright smile. Watch him stare at me in total shock.
Well, I got the shocked stare, that was for sure. But I also noticed how his gaze had been zeroed in on my backside when I was bent over before it rose quickly to meet my eyes. He didn’t say anything about my change in appearance beyond the standard “you look nice.”
Nice.
How boring is that? Then he went on to ask if I had a nice weekend too, like nothing had changed, nothing was different. Not that I want him to be a slobbering idiot like my creeper old boss. But I thought I’d at least thoroughly impress Matt with the dress, the hair, the makeup, and the shoes.
God, the shoes. They’re pinching my toes and I don’t think I’ve been here even an hour.