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My God, he tastes good.
Like mint and chocolate, his mouth is the most perfect flavor of ice cream.
It’s only when I start to moan—loudly—that he pulls away and asks the only question that could bring me back to reality.
“Do you want to come in for a little while?”
His eyes are full of longing and persuasion, and I have to look away to get my bearings. The ceiling is just about my only option, and he leans forward to press his lips to the skin of my neck that’s now exposed.
I quiver, but my survival instinct kicks in and helps me form a rational thought.
“Did you get a TV?” I ask.
His no is nothing more than a shake against my neck.
It takes everything in me—literally every fiber of my being—but I somehow give him a gentle push away.
He goes without protest, but he pulls his eyebrows together.
“Greer?”
“I don’t think I should. Come in, that is.”
“Why?” he questions bluntly, not pulling any punches.
I do him the same courtesy. He deserves to know exactly what’s on my mind and why it is.
Not some frilly excuse that confuses us both.
“Because you’re my boss, Trent.”
“You think I’m that kind of guy?” he asks, but his tone isn’t defensive. Just curious and trying to understand. “That I’d hold our relationship against you?”
“I don’t think you’re any kind of guy, Trent. I don’t even think it’s a kind of guy who does things like that. I think it’s someone who’s hurting and lashing out.” His eyes soften. “But up until about a week ago, I was still convinced I hated you, and I don’t think all that well while experiencing whiplash.”
He chuckles, the smile it creates sticking to his face long after the laughter leaves.
“This job means a lot to me. More than a lot. And I’d like to think I’m smart enough not to jeopardize everything I’ve worked for on an outcome I can’t predict.”
“You can’t see the outcome of this?” he asks. “Really? I’ve got a crystal ball in the closet. We can fire it up—”
“Trent.”
“I get it.” My chest releases the tightness, and I’m relieved not to be having a heart attack, but when he takes another step back from me, separating our bodies completely, the emptiness I feel is almost crippling. “I don’t like it…but I get it.”
“I don’t like it either,” I admit. “But I think it’s for the best.”
His lips are warm and soft as he presses them to my cheek.
“Goodnight, Greer.”
“Goodnight, Trent.”
I move just enough that he can squeeze inside his door, and I stand there in the hallway long after he’s gone.
I feel justified in my decision, and my mind says it’s the right one.
My body disagrees.
If only it were simple.
Trent
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from Cap.
Cap: What the fuck happened with Susie Gimble the other night? She called me on a tirade, saying you stood her up.
Me: Something important came up.
Cap: So, you just didn’t go?
Me: No, I went. I was there. But, like I said, something important came up.
Cap: If you tell me it was because of your fucking job, I will personally come down to New Orleans and murder you.
Me: I had to go see about a girl.
Cap: You fuck. You know Good Will Hunting makes me emotional.
Normally, I’d use this opportunity to rile his apparent sensitive ass a bit, but I’m in the middle of something that deserves all of my time and attention. And more than that, something that I want to give all of my time and attention to.
I don’t make a habit out of taking women on dates to lighting and fixture stores. The atmosphere isn’t exactly romantic, and they don’t let you drink wine while you shop.
But now that Greer has made it clear that dating is out of the picture, I’ve had to find ways to date her in secret.
And by “in secret,” I mean without her knowing.
I know; it’s complicated.
Still, it means I get to spend time with her—quality time I don’t get when we’re at work with everyone else—and she gets to be comfortable enough to feel secure in both her job and herself.
Really, it’s a win for everyone. Especially for me.
“Trent,” she calls now, from up on top of a ladder, head inside of a chandelier. “Are you even listening to me?”
The answer is no. No, I was not. Actually, I was enjoying the view that is Greer’s mile-long legs and perfectly round ass.
But she doesn’t need to know that.
“Yes.”
“Well then, what do you think of this one?” she asks, her voice echoing inside of the chandelier. “It would be in the elevator lobby area of every floor. I think it goes with the marble inlay we decided to do.”
On a real date, I’d probably just tell her I like whatever she likes. But since this is technically a work outing, I have to think like the boss. And not, like, a naughty porn type of boss either. A regular, this is an employee type of boss.
