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“Something tells me if you turn this into strip taxes, we’re not going to get anything done.”
I smirk. “It’s not my fault if you can’t control yourself around me, is it?”
Her eyes darken in challenge, and in one smooth move, she pushes her sweatpants down and off to reveal a tight black pair of minuscule bicycle shorts. I watch with avid interest as her head cocks to the side, and her mouth narrows in challenge. “What about you? Are you distracted?”
“Getting there.” I swallow hard at the sight of her tan legs and the peekaboo of ass cheek at the bottom of the fabric. She lifts her sweatshirt up slowly, pulling it up and over her head and tossing it aside while I watch.
Left in nothing but a small, cropped camisole and tiny shorts that might as well be underwear, she’s a dream come true in every sense of the phrase.
Fuck me. This, right here, is what temptation looks like when it knows exactly what it’s doing.
“What about now?” she asks, cocking her head to the side a little.
“I hope you’re not counting on me to do complex math, let’s put it that way.”
Her giggle is infectious as she launches forward and into my arms, pressing her lips to mine and forcing my eyes closed as a result. My hands find her hips and steady her, holding her hips away from mine just enough to keep some modicum of sanity.
Stepping away slowly, seduction dripping from every inch of movement, she walks back to the desk and opens the bottle of wine before pouring it into two clear, plastic cups and handing me one. I take a small drink while she downs a gulp, declaring, “Okay, Funny Guy. Let’s get to work—before both of us forget how numbers function.”
“Oh. My. God.” Teeny wheezes, curling over and grabbing her stomach while I read off another section of the Magnolia Connect group chat from earlier today. “Stop. It doesn’t say that.”
“It does!” I insist. “Do you want me to read it to you again?”
“Obviously, yes.” She purses her lips in skepticism. “Because I don’t believe you.”
“Stanley says if he doesn’t use the gym this month, he should be eligible for a partial refund on his HOA fees.”
“Yes, yes, I heard that part. But you have to be lying about what Rita said back. She’s normally so . . . buttoned up.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Read it again, then,” she demands. “This time go slow.”
“Fine. Rita Fortune says, and I quote, that Stanley can shove his hand up her pussy to look for the money if he wants, but it’s already been used on a vaginal reconstruction procedure.”
“Give me your phone!” she squeals. “I don’t know where mine went, but I swear if it really says that, I’m jumping in the mixer and taking a ride.”
I hold the phone back as she lunges for it, but she gets hold of it by climbing over me.
She freezes, squints, and reads.
I laugh hysterically as she gets a load of the real message, which is, of course, a lot more boring.
Rita Fortune: All HOA fees are nonrefundable and flat rate based on the availability of amenities, not usage.
“Oh my God, you rat!” Teeny exclaims. “I knew Rita did not say the word pussy in the condo group chat! In fact, I doubt Rita Fortune has ever said the word pussy in her life!”
As my laughter ratchets up, so does hers, and she wiggles from one side of the desk chair to the other, poking me in the side just hard enough to make me squeak. She flips around and I grab her arm, pinning her in place in front of me.
Breathing heavily, she stares at me until we both go quiet.
We’ve been working for hours at this point, and I’m fairly certain it’s after midnight, though I haven’t looked at a clock.
Hair falling down around her eyes and cheeks flushed from both frustration and a couple of glasses of wine, Teeny looks up at me from under her lashes as she climbs into my lap.
I open my arms, unwilling and unable to stop her no matter how much I know it’s a bad idea. She settles her ass on one of my thighs and swings her legs over the other, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and studying me with unconcealed interest.
“What am I gonna do with you, Shane?”
