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So instead of doing what I should have done, I did the exact opposite.
I took Dawson’s bait like a famished fish.
“You know, Dawson, you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar,” I drawled as I swiveled in my chair, licking my lips.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dawson griped. His reaction caused a grin to spread across my face.
He really made it so easy sometimes. He was like a whistling teapot. Let him steam long enough and he’d boil over.
“It means that if you want something out of me, you’re going to have to ask me. Nicely.”
“Oh, I’ll give you nice, Harding. I’ll give you a nice, swift kick in that tight ass of yours, set you in the right direction.”
His words caused my cock to throb, and I could already feel a wet spot forming in my underwear.
Fuuuuuck, why is this so hot?
Wait, did he just call my ass...
“I’m waiting, Dawson,” I said, my breath coming out much heavier than it should have been as I tried to stifle how fucking turned on I was at the moment.
So unprofessional.
God, what is wrong with me?
I closed my eyes as I tried to regain my sanity.
“Nolan,” he breathed my name like it was a sin. Another pause, Dawson’s heavy breathing in my ear hovering like some sort of spell.
“Would you please do me a favor?” Dawson spoke with command, but his entire tone had shifted from demanding and angry to something else.
Smooth, sexy.
Like pure silk.
My entire body loosened, and I wanted to melt into the sound of his voice. I could imagine him telling me to get on my knees with a voice like that, which was also not helping my current situation.
I’d never heard him speak like that to anyone.
“Yes, Dawson?” I said, licking my lips, stilling my voice.
“Would you please be a good little pencil pusher and do your fucking job so I can do mine? Thanks, sweetheart. You’re a doll,” he said as he hung up, leaving me breathless, with a raging hard on at eleven thirty in the morning.
The dial tone echoed in my ears as I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling.
What the fuck just happened?
Just as I hung up the phone, my cell phone went off.
I’m never getting any work done today.
I pulled out my cell, knowing without bothering to look who was calling. Very few people actually had my cell phone number, on account because I didn’t have many friends.
But I’d also set Allie’s ringtone to All The Single Ladies, which she insisted was the best song ever made.
Well, that’s one way to kill a boner.
I punched the green button and answered the call. “Hey, Allie,” I said, letting out a deep breath.
