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I let her go, of course, my hands dropping as soon as I felt her tense. Opening my eyes, I saw her staring at me with her lipstick mussed and her lips slightly swollen from out kiss.
“Oh no,” she said in this breathless little whisper before side stepping around me and practically running out the door.
I stood there a moment, completely stunned. Had I just misread the entire situation? I had thought-
It seemed like-
But she had-
I shook my head, drawing in a deep breath. There were a lot of reasons she could have run out that door, ranging from her being embarrassed at a public make out session with her boss all the way to some sort of proprietary fear. Either way, it wasn’t something that a little space and then a discussion on Monday morning would clear up. If I needed to apologize, then I would apologize.
But as I went to take my own leave, my mind wouldn’t let me forget her body against mine. It had been pure sin in all of the best ways, burned into my mind in a memory that I wouldn’t soon forget.
Hopefully the run out was just a misunderstanding and could be ironed out like every other obstacle. And if not… well, I was having a hard time making myself regret my actions.
What was that one phrase? It was better to ask forgiveness than seek permission? Not normally one I ever agreed with, but I couldn’t deny that I wouldn’t mind the challenge of getting Ms. Viello to forgive me.
Wouldn’t mind it at all.
Beverly
My heart thundered in my chest as I walked up to work, threatening to bust out of my ribs and just launch itself straight into the sun.
It was Monday, and I’d had two whole days of rest away from everything, but even those forty-eight hours weren’t enough for me to get over what I’d done.
I’d kissed my boss.
And not even just kissed, like an awkward and stupid encounter under some mistletoe. But full on made out with the man whose name was on my paychecks.
Gross.
But also, not gross. It was gross because he was my boss. I’d never been one of the kinds of people who flirted her way up the corporate ladder, and I certainly didn’t want to be one now. But how else could one interpret me mackin’ on the William Fitzgerald at a company party?
Sure, he was hot and all, and I had so been feeling him, but there was a professional line and I hadn’t just overstepped it, I’d freaking pole vaulted over it and gave a salute to its country as I soared over.
I couldn’t say what came over me. Normally I held my professionalism and poise so perfectly. I prided myself on it. But as the night had worn on and I’d got to see him interact with people, it’d been so impossible not to be charmed.
The man was obviously intelligent, and he had a way of interacting with people that was just impressive. He always moved like he knew exactly what he was doing and spoke like he knew exactly what he was saying. And when I did occasionally add my two cents, he looked so pleased or entertained that I found myself speaking up more and more, eager for his approval.
By the time the end of the night hit, it was like I was under some sort of spell. And when he had leaned down towards me, I had hoped more than anything that he would kiss me.
And he did.
My hand went to my mouth, tracing my lips as his tongue had done. In my teenage years, I had read plenty of YA novels that went on about perfect kisses and how magical they could be. Turned out they were actually kind of right. Maybe it was pathetic to have had my first kiss when I was in my twenties, but it had definitely been worth the wait.
Too bad it was with my boss!
I allowed myself one last groan before I marched in the front doors, pulling my professional persona back on. It was too bad that I had let it drop at all on Friday night, otherwise I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
I just hoped that maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe Mr. Fitzgerald would forget all about it.
Yeah right. I had been with him the whole night and knew there was no way that he was drunk enough to forget anything. Unless kissing his employees was kind of a normal thing and wouldn’t stick out to him.
No, that didn’t seem plausible either. Someone as strict and hard working as Mr. Fitzgerald did not waste a lot of time swapping spit with his underlings. But if that was the case, it begged the question of why he had kissed me.
