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Bunching up the fabric of the second sock, she threw it at his face. He caught it, his hand a tight fist.

“Mm, much better,” she said, slowly running her hands up the skin of her thighs. His chest heaved as he breathed in and out.

Her hands moved inward, sliding higher, hands positioned so similarly to how his had been the morning she rode his hand. The memory sent her blood pounding, and despite herself, she released a little moan. His fist tightened, knuckles going white around the bunched fabric of her sock.

He looked like it was taking every bit of his self-control not to seize her, and her body vibrated in anticipation to see if he would break, a little part of her hoping he would.

Her body throbbed just at the thought, at what he might do. It almost made her want to slip her fingers between her legs herself, to give in to the desire pulsing through her if he wouldn’t.

She moved a hand higher up her thigh, slipping it beneath her skirt, closer to where she wanted to be touched. His eyes were wide as he watched, his jaw clenched tight.

They both stood frozen, waiting to see who would break.

Until they heard Charles entering the main area, looking for them both. The heat between them broke, and Lucy looked away, dropping her hands to her sides.

“Grayson, put some clothes on!” Charles scolded as he came into view. Grayson’s face flushed, and Lucy felt triumphant, until Charles looked at her.

“Lucy-Lu! Where are your stockings?” he asked. “You’ll catch a cold!”

It was her turn to flush pink.

They both dressed, and she swore she heard Grayson grumbling to himself, pissed off, which was good because she was pissed off, too.

She couldn’t believe she’d ever considered going out with him. He was insufferable. Ridiculous. Irritating. Just the worst. She hated him.

Not that her throbbing body seemed to understand.

It was a good thing Charles had restored their sense, because only a little while later, they had a rush of customers, which was a good distraction as well.

Until Grayson disappeared, and she needed help as the line at the register grew longer.

“Just a second, let me call my assistant,” Lucy said, tone sweet as she spoke to the woman she was ringing up.

“Grayson!” she called, glancing around. She had no idea where he was. “GRAYSON.”

He appeared from the office, blue eyes sparking. He strode over to stand next to her, and just as she was about to tell him to be an assistant and assist for god’s sake, he leaned forward, running two fingers down her spine.

“I love it when you scream my name,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck. She glanced at the customer in front of her, but his voice had been so low only she could hear, which somehow made it worse.

Heat flushed through her at the words coupled with his touch; she remembered too well what those fingers felt like curled inside her.

She promptly forgot what she was doing, what she was supposed to say.

He grinned wickedly, removing his fingers from her back as she caught her breath.

“How can I help?” he asked the customer, stepping forward. Lucy blinked, watching as he took over, and she went to answer another customer’s query.

Anger stewed within her.

She was not letting him win this one.

She had to wait until closing, when all the customers were gone. Charles was in a lounge chair, and Grayson was putting a book away on one of the shelves. She stomped over to him.

“Don’t talk to me like that in front of customers,” she seethed.

“Hmm?” He lifted a brow, face purposefully blank to annoy her further.

“Aren’t you always the one going on about professionalism? Talk about unprofessional.” She mimicked his tone.