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* * *Re:Sal’s sulking in his office.Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I grin at my screen, a stupid goofy grin. It’s not much, but she’s instigated contact and that’s all I need or want, even if I know I should be cautious. But I just saw the passionate woman again, the woman she’s trying to hide from me, and she’s fucking irresistible.* * *Re: Why no “Re”?Don’t expect to see him for the rest of the day.Tyler Christianson
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I click send and sit back, my hands coming together, and my fingers all linking, forming a double fist against my mouth. I immediately wince and shake my hand out. And I stare at the screen. For-fucking-ever. Then her name appears again, and I’m on my mouse like an eagle swooping in on its prey.* * *Re: Because I didn’t know what to “re”Should I go in? Check on him?Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I gasp and furiously start tapping again.* * *Re: How about referencing that amazing kiss?God, no. Let him cool off. It might be a while.Tyler Christianson
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *Her reply is quick.* * *Re: The amazing kiss.Okay.Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I smile, my heart probably beating faster and faster with every email bouncing back and forth. But it falters when I realize there’s nothing for me to reply to. There’s no question. No prompt. Damn it. I pause and mull over what’s next. It comes easily.* * *Re: It was, wasn’t it?I like your email address. Your name looks good next to mine.Tyler Christianson
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I sound like a pussy and I don’t give a shit.* * *Re: Really, really good.You’re so smooth.Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *Again, no opening to reply. I frown at my screen, my hands twitching to write something back, but not having the first idea what. Well, I have an idea, I just don’t know how to word it.* * *Re: Glad you agree.So you’ll come home with me so I can forget my name when I make love to you again?Tyler Christianson
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I hover over the send icon with my mouse. Maybe not so blunt. Or mushy. I hum, tapping my desk nervously. I need to take a leak, so I head to the bathroom while I think it over. Make love? I don’t make love. Did we make love?
I check myself out in the mirror once I’m done, mulling that over some more, smoothing back the hair that looks like it’s been blasted by a high-powered fan. But no gray. Did we fuck? Make love? Connect? I don’t know, but it was fucking amazing and I want to do it all over again. I rush back to my computer, deciding to just ask her out after work. I’m crossing everything—fingers, toes, my cock, the lot—in the hopes she doesn’t decline.
I make it halfway across my office when I notice someone else in the room. “Lainey?” I can’t help but look past her as she shuts the door.
“Gina’s still cleaning up Sal in his office,” she tells me, sensing my unease.
The information doesn’t lessen the nerves that have sprung up as a result of her presence, though. I start to fidget as she looks at me. “See me after work,” I blurt, losing total control of my mouth. “I mean . . .” I pause, searching for some direction. I didn’t mean to sound so demanding. My eyes drop and flit across the floor at my feet. “Well, I’d love it if—”
“Yes,” she says, clearly seeing my struggle.
My eyes jump up, finding her smiling that soft smile. “Yes?”
“Yes.” She walks forward, but when she’s a few feet away from me, I hold my hand up to stop her. Her head cocks, a flash of uncertainty flickering across her face.
“Don’t come too close,” I warn, mentally talking down my swelling cock. “I can’t promise I’ll behave.”
I see her relief in the form of relaxing shoulders. “Were you nervous about asking to see me?”
“Yes.” I don’t deny it. I can see no point. Having nerves when in the presence of a woman isn’t familiar to me, but what I am familiar with now is this electrical energy that surrounds Lainey and me when we’re close. When we’re touching. It’s addictive, and I’m slowly concluding that that’s what’s making me nervous. I like her. A lot. Enough to play with fire. Enough to want to see her again. Kiss her again. And again. And again, and again, and again.
“Shall I meet you?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
I think hard, but quickly conclude it’s too risky meeting her in a bar. Or a restaurant. But something is stopping me from suggesting my place. I don’t want her to think that I have one thing on my mind. Christ, what’s gotten into me? “Any ideas?” I ask, putting the ball in her court.
