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“I just asked you that same question.” He glances past me to the view of Manhattan through the window of my office.
It’s dark, so all that awaits the eye is a sprinkling of lights from the buildings across the street.
“You realize people can see in here, right?”
My gaze darts over my shoulder to the window. “I’m not naked, Dylan.”
“Close.” He exhales on a sigh. “Take off the blouse. You can wear my jacket.”
The jacket is off his shoulders before I can protest.
He shoves it at me, but I don’t take it.
“Why are you here?” I repeat my question. “How did you get up here?”
“Myron is an old friend.” He takes a measured step closer to me. “I told him you were another old friend of mine, so he let me up.”
“I’ll never buy him another candy bar,” I mutter.
“Sure you will,” Dylan responds with a smirk. “Take the jacket, Eden. We can wash the blouse at my place.”
The way he so effortlessly mentions going back to his place both irritates and excites me. He’s so sure of himself.
I can’t blame him for that.
The man is built for sex. Everything about him screams that he’s incredible in bed.
He is.
My experience with him was limited, but it was still the best sexual encounter I’ve ever had.
I shake my head to chase away thoughts of his naked body.
Jesus, he’s breathtaking in and out of a suit.
“You’re thinking about fucking me.”
I spit out a laugh that sounds more like a shriek. “What? No. Why would you even say that?”
“Your nipples.” He circles a finger in the air, pointing at my hardened nipples under the lace of my bra. “Your nipples are thinking about fucking me.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s cold in here.”
“It’s not.” He tosses the jacket onto one of the chairs in front of my desk. “Do you want my shirt? You can wear it back to my place. I’m good with just the jacket.”
His cufflinks are off and in the pocket of his pants.
What is wrong with him?
“No.” I shake my head. “I have to work. You need to leave.”
“You’re coming with me.” He slides off his tie. “Come home with me. I’ll wash and dry your blouse. My laundry skills are impressive.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“It’s a fantastic idea.” His hands start on the buttons of his shirt. “We can share a bottle of wine. You’ll have an orgasm or three.”
“Three?” I laugh. “You’re way too cocky.”
