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I grin and reach for him. “Better go to rehab.”
11
Riley
I arrive to work with a grin on my face. Saturday night had been the most amazing night of my life. Branson Carter had literally fucked me within an inch of my life. I was sure I had passed out from sexual exhaustion only to be waked in the early morning hours with Branson on top of me rousing me from sleep with this eager dick. Being with him had been hotter than I thought it could possibly be.
We didn’t talk about it on the flight back or even in the taxi on the way to my place. In fact, since I had woke up yesterday late morning, alone, Branson hadn’t mentioned a word about fucking me senseless.
The last thing I want to do was appear desperate, so I didn’t mention it either. It suits me actually because I know deep down, I shouldn’t be sleeping with Branson.
I step into my office and place my bag beneath my desk before I switch on my screen. There’s a message from Branson.
Branson: Florida was amazing. Worlds away from the real world. Let’s keep it that way.
I read the message over and over a few times until I see the real meaning of his message. What happened in Florida stays in Florida.
I shrug and try not to let it bother me, after all, we have a lot of work to focus on, but deep down I know it wasn’t going to be that easy to move on. I woke in the middle of the night sweat-drenched and trembling from dreaming about our night together. I should’ve known it was a one-time thing and I’m not different than the other women he’s slept with.
I have the worst luck in the history of the world. I found a man that made me quiver and tremble just to be told it wouldn’t happen again. I rest my head in my hands and heave a heavy sigh.
I need to talk to someone, I need a girlfriend’s advice, but since Tammy is the closest thing to a friend I have since moving to New York, I’m out of options. I could hardly tell anyone else that I fucked my boss over the weekend.
I roll my neck on my shoulders and push thoughts of Branson aside and focus on the Martinez campaign.
I’m startled when my office door opens just before lunchtime to reveal a spitting mad Branson.
“Branson?” I ask confused, setting down the pen in my hand.
“Did you hear?” Even wearing a scowl with anger radiating off him, he’s still sexy as sin. I briefly search his eyes for any sign that Saturday night had tilted his world on its axis as well, but I find nothing.
I stand up and try my best not to be bothered by his distance. “What?”
“Fitness Trainers has three other companies to work on the campaign for the balls. Apparently, they were wooed in our absence Saturday evening. Now it’s a competition. A fucking competition for a campaign that was basically ours.”
“Branson, why are you so upset? Because you were elsewhere Saturday evening or because you have competition for the campaign?”
His eyes flash with temper before he takes a step toward me. “Saturday never should’ve happened. We should’ve gone to that fucking dinner.”
For a moment, I feel guilty, until I remember it was Branson’s idea to skip the dinner, not mine. His words feel like a slap in the face, and I start building my wall, keeping my emotions to myself. “Okay, then. When do they need a proposal?”
He huffs and shakes his head. “Friday.”
“So that gives us a week to work on something. It’ll be fine.” I avoid his eye contact.
When I finally look up at him, he’s casting a glare that could split wood. “You better make sure we have something by Friday.”
I consider telling him this is his own doing, but now isn’t the best time. He’s breathing fire as he gives me one last glance before leaving my office.
As the door slams in his wake, my heart drops into my Martinez heels. For me, Saturday night was a once in a lifetime experience that I wouldn’t mind repeating daily, but for Branson, it seems I was just another girl he fucked or even worse… a mistake. I don’t regret it, but he’s making me second guess it all.
The chill in his voice and the cold stare he had just given me made it clear he wasn’t as affected by it as I was.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes reminding myself that no promises were made that night.
But it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
12
