Page 33 of Mr. Perfect

But before I can answer there’s a huge commotion out in the Atrium. “What the hell?”

“Let me look,” Ellie says. She opens the door a crack. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Are we done here? Because Adeline is here to pick me up for drinks.”

“Adeline? You’re having drinks with Adeline tonight?”

“Yeah.” She beams a smile at me and then takes off her blazer to show off the dress. She goes from day to night in one second. I sigh, picturing how I pawed my way up her thighs this morning.

Jesus.

She drapes her jacket over the back of the desk chair, which is a very nice cream-colored leather that feels more like butter than butter. “The whole point of dressing up on Thursday is so we can go out Thursday night.”

“Right,” I say, walking over to her and slipping my hand behind her neck so I can pull her up into a kiss. She kisses me back, not even a struggle. I place my other hand on her breasts, squeezing as I slide my fingertips up into her hair and fist it. “But you haven’t seen the best part of the office yet.”

“I’m still quitting, McAllister,” she breathes into my mouth. “I appreciate the new office, but it’s not even close to enough. I’m not staying here. I’m sure the next girl will be very happy with it.”

“Don’t make up your mind yet, Eloise.”

“Don’t call me Eloise, McAllister.”

“Mac,” I say.

“Ellie,” she says back.

“We’re selling. Why not just stay until that’s done?”

“That could take years! No. I’ve been here too long and I need to fly the nest.”

I take my kisses to her ear, and she gives off a little shudder when my tongue traces the outline of her lobe. “We could have a lot of fun, Ellie.”

“I’m not your toy, Mac.”

“I’d be here every Thursday night. While you’re teasing me in your happy-hour dress.” I reach down to the hem of her dress and slide the silky fabric up her hips. She has thigh-high stockings on, complete with garter belt. Like she just walked out of a lingerie catalog. “Did you change? I didn’t even notice these this morning.”

“You were too busy attacking me, Mr. Stonewall.”

“I’d rip Thursday’s dress off you every week. Then sit you down on this desk,” I say, reaching around to her ass and lifting her up, placing her on the new desk. I position my body between her legs, one hand on each of her knees, and push them open.

“Mac,” she says, looking up into my eyes. “Why are you doing this to me? Just… Just find someone else to play office romance with.”

“I want to play with you. I’m intrigued. That whole message stream—”

“Shit,” she says, placing both hands on my chest to push me away.

But I grab both wrists and then place her hands on the growing bulge between my legs.

“I have to go,” she whines. “Adeline is waiting.”

“She’s not getting away from those fans any time soon. We can have a quickie.”

“Look,” Ellie says, trying to squirm her way out of this. “I’m really not into quickies, Mac. Seriously. I’m not the kind of girl who puts out on the first date. Hell, I don’t even put out on the third date. I’m the kind of girl who needs at least five dates before sex.”

“Five? Why so many?”

She rolls her eyes and groans.