I leaned my back against the harsh edge of the building, resisting the need to scratch my shoulder blades on it. “If it’s what you want, you should make time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me how to organize my day, Chimera boy?”
I watched her, letting my expression settle into something more neutral than interested and prayed she wouldn’t look down, otherwise we’d be having a whole other conversation. “You should run. Now.”
“There you go, telling me what to do again.” She huffed, and inched toward. “Why the hell do you think you can tell me what I can do, where I can go?”
Why aren’t you running?
Telling her where she could go hadn’t been the point, but I didn’t correct that misconception just yet.
“I’ll follow you, make sure you get home alright. It’s been hectic.” More than hectic.
A ground level office window bore a distinct crack that hadn’t been there this morning. I suspected one of the media crew had attempted to gain access to the building while we were in a meeting earlier and gotten stuck. That mob level violence was a terrifying thing. Media weren’t my favorite people at this point.
Security had ordered a work crew for tomorrow, but that didn't stop the rest of the regular office staff from feeling shaken, and leaving early. Not Cora, of course. She hung out until she was good and ready to leave, which was well after everyone else. Hell, the only reason Coach went home for the evening at all was because he knew I’d stay to make sure she got home okay, even if I hadn’t cleared the bit of information with her first.
Cora kept creeping toward me, one small step at a time. I held myself still, barely daring to breathe as she encroached on my space and finally stopped her advance a half foot in front of me. If she took a deep inhale, her luscious breasts that her crop barely contained would brush my singlet beneath my own Chimera hoodie.
“What the hell makes you think I’d welcome you following me home, Chimera?’ she asked, her voice low and breathy.
I stared down at her. “Better me than a rogue camera man ready for tomorrow's four a.m. edition,” I stated plainly. That comment seemed to snap her out of it, but I wasn’t ready to let her go that easily. I held out my hand palm up. “Phone.”
“What?”
“Give me your phone, butterfly.”
“No.” She backed up a step.
I raised my hand and slid my fingers through her silky blonde hair to massage her nape. “Your phone.” I held my other palm out at her waist height, waiting for her to shriek and yank away from me.
She didn’t.
Something cold and heavy dropped into my hand. I nodded without taking my eyes off hers, still massaging her neck. She tossed her head restlessly, and batted once at my arm, but she didn’t push my touch away.
Good.
“Code, butterfly.”
“Why do you call me that?”
I waited as she blew out a breath.
“Four-seven-four-six-two-four,” she muttered. Her cheeks blazed as I entered the numbers as she spoke.
I frowned. “I’m guessing that’s not your birthday, butterfly.” I knew it wasn't.
“Itspellsgrinch,” she muttered, dipping her chin as her words ran together.
I stopped my massage, rearranging my hand to catch her jaw in my fingers and tip her head up to meet my gaze. “Say that again for me, Cora?” I heard her, but from the way color stained her cheeks, I had to get her to repeat it. What could I say? Sadism was one of my kinks.
“It spellsgrinch,” she confessed, her voice ringing clear as fucking day across the empty parking lot. “I hate Christmas, okay? Are you happy now?” She wrenched her chin out of my hand. “Can I go now?” Her eyebrows raised as she offered me a look of pure derision mixed with defiance.
Good that you know who holds the reins here.
I nodded thoughtfully. “Have your run, Cora. I’ll watch you.”
Her skittish look left me in a fresh dose of arousal as she bounced once on her toes and took off without stretching. That was partially my fault, but she’d wear the punishment for it at a later date anyway.
