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Her perfect hand reaches forward, eyes still on mine, and picks something up from my desk. I don’t know what, because she’s controlling my stare like it’s hers. Her shoulders lift from a deep breath, and her teeth sink into her lip again. My cock lunges, my heart bucks. She’s not real. Can’t be.
Holding up whatever she’s just lifted from my desk, she swallows. “Sal sent me to get his phone.”
“Okay,” I say simply, eyes rooted on her face so they can’t wander over her curves in that gorgeously tight dress.
“Nice sketches.”
“Thanks.”
She smiles a little. “Give her more hips.”
“Pardon?”
“Your model.” She nods at the drawings before me. “She needs more here.” Lainey’s hands land on her hips.
I hold my breath in a stupid attempt to stop the oxygen from reaching my brain and feeding my wicked thoughts. My hands. On those hips. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I haven’t seen you around much.”
“A lot going on,” I murmur, in a trance, watching her every step back toward the door, her perfect hands still resting on those perfect hips. “You settled in okay?” Keep it business, Ty, even if your brain is keeping it anything but.
She nods, only mildly. “It’s a great company. You should be proud.”
“Thanks,” I all but whisper, when any other time my chest would have swelled with justifiable pride. I know it’s a great company. The best of its kind, actually. But right now, I’m finding it hard to think and see past the images currently stamping all over my brain. Me. Lainey. My hands on those hips. I’m totally bewitched.
“Welcome.” She bites her bottom lip, like in contemplation, and silence falls. She stops at the door, regarding me closely. I’m not imagining it. She’s undressing me with her eyes, and rather than do what I normally do when presented with a woman who so clearly wants me, which would be smile and egg them on, I sit like a clueless virgin. “Good weekend?” she asks, one hand on the door knob now, one twiddling Sal’s phone.
“Yeah. Yours?”
“Pleasant.” She smiles, and it’s a knowing smile. Yet a careful smile. “Are you okay, Mr. Christianson?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.”
I can’t do that, Lainey. And you damn well know it. “I think we’re done.”
Her expression falters a smidge, and I have to stop myself from reading too much into that. “Absolutely.” She nods, closing her eyes briefly, as if gathering herself. “Yes. Right. Um, catch you later, Tyler.”
My name. My name on her lips.
She turns and leaves. And I puddle in my chair, reaching down to force my dick against my thigh, breathing raggedly. I didn’t exactly reject her, but she was wounded . . . wasn’t she? Whatever. Don’t go there. This is bloody, fucking ridiculous. Skulking around my own floor, hiding in my office, constantly worrying about bumping into her. I’m slowly losing my mind. I laugh to myself. Slowly? No, no. I lost my mind very quickly the second I laid eyes on her. And I haven’t gotten it back.I DIDN’T GO INTO THE office for the rest of the week, deciding to work from home instead. Because I’ll be more productive at home. That’s what I told myself. And I don’t have to skulk around, looking over my shoulder constantly for her. I also didn’t go out over the weekend. Again. Because I needed to tweak the Pyra pitch. That’s what I told myself. So, it’s not a surprise that I’ve woken this Monday morning even earlier than normal. But there’s no chance of working from home today. I have my pitch with Pyra, so I have no choice but to go into my own office and run the gauntlet.
I swim an extra twenty lengths to try and alleviate some of the lingering stress. I know it hasn’t worked when my heart hasn’t stopped pounding by the time I get in the shower. Because it isn’t an exerted pound. It’s an anxious pound.
After kitting myself out in my smartest and most expensive charcoal three-piece suit with a pale pink shirt and complementing tie, I fix my hair, pushing the waves behind my ears, before checking the length of my stubble. Perfect.The silence is golden as I step off the elevator. I have at least an hour before people start arriving and force me to take refuge in my office. An hour to set things up in the conference room. Totally doable. If I hurry.
I gather up everything I need, my arms full, but my feet stall when I pass the elevator, hearing the mechanics carrying the cart up. Oh no . . .
Ding!
The doors slide open, seeming to take forever to reveal who’s in the lift. An audible gasp of relief rushes past my lips when I finally see who it is. “What are you doing here?” I ask Gina as she looks at me tiredly.
