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12
BODI
Istrutoutof my office, putting my sunglasses on with one hand while holding my keys and phone in the other.
“Let’s go, Kayla.”
I should avoid her during work hours. Every morning I tell myself that today I’m not going to find excuses to have these small moments with her and only interact with her when it’s really needed. And every single day ends in flirting, unnecessary touches, and a sour mood before I go to bed that’s fueled by my aching dick. My sexual frustration is killing me and the muscles in my right arm are actually sore from jerking off while I think of her.
It seems ridiculous because it’s easy to scratch that itch, but I’m pretty sure that if I cross that line, I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to keep it between the four walls of my home and having sex at the office is a bad idea. Even as fucking hot as it is.
From the corner of my eye, I catch her giving me a confused look as I keep a steady pace toward the elevator, then push the button and turn around.
“Where are we going?”
Of course she’s not going to jump up and listen.
She wouldn’t be Kayla if she didn’t challenge me at least a little.
I just stare at her while she’s giving me a look filled with sass, waiting in anticipation for an answer. When I don’t utter a word, she folds her arms in front of her body, pursing her lips with attitude to compel me to tell her. The youth in her face shows me a rioting nineteen-year-old, but she holds her own like a thirty-year-old businesswoman.
It’s sexy.
And fucking disturbing what it makes me want to do to her.
The elevator dings and I shrug my shoulders.
“Suit yourself.” I casually turn around, getting on the elevator while I hear her scramble to her feet, grabbing her bag and darting toward the closing doors. Amusement reaches my pursed lips as I wait for her to run into the elevator. Right before they close, her hand pops in, making them open again, and I meet her glaring eyes. They are bright as always, blue like the sky, yet laced with a hostile look that makes her even more fierce.
She brings her hands up, slightly adjusting her brown hair. With a straight spine, she walks in to stand beside me, and I do my best to suppress the laughter that wants to fall from my lips.
I could tell her we’re going to lunch. That it’s nothing special but that I want to get out of the office and I want to do it with her. But having her squirm from curiosity is so much more fun. Especially after the taunting torture she gives me by simply existing.
The little minx.
The elevator descends, and she puts the handle of her cross-body bag over her head before letting it rest on her shoulder.
“So, where are we going?” Her head tilts to the side to look at me. “To meet an investor? A new author you want to sign? Oh!” she squeals. “A new author who wants to switch publishers? Is that it? Do we have a secret meeting with someone?” I can see her eyebrows wiggle from the corner of my eye, a smile tugging on my cheeks.
“You hate this, don’t you?” I ask.
“Which part? The part where you are being an asshole?” She smiles widely.
“I’m your boss,” I snicker. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“Maybe not around the office, but when I have you for myself… I ain’t holding back, McKay.”
The thought of having her to myself makes my light mood disappear, wanting nothing more. My head slowly turns, my eyes darkening. “No shit.”
I watch her smile drop as she swallows, peering up at me. The tension in the small area rises while I feel my chest slowly moving up and down, every fiber in my body wanting to slam her against the wall and cage her in with my arms around her waist. But instead, I ignore my aching hands until the doors open again.
“Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” she calls out behind me.
“Lunch.”
“Pfft, are you serious?” I can hear her stomp behind me like a small pony, a smile creeping onto my face again.
“All that testosterone because we’re going to lunch?” she hisses, catching up with me. “You don’t have to make this so hard, you know. We can work together and still have sex.”
Crashing to a halt, she almost bumps into me while I glare at her from under my sunglasses. “You really need to learn when to shut up.”
Her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Oh, whatever. Where are we going, boss?”
Amused, I shake my head, really having no clue what to do with her.
Her bluntness acts as refreshing as a cool glass of sweet tea on a hot summer’s day. Fucking irresistible, if you ask me.
“A bistro a few blocks from here.”
Mocking, she points her hand forward, almost doing a curtsy that has me snorting.
“Lead the way.”
Her hair. It sparkles under the January sun that’s shining through the window. It looks voluminous, like in one of those shampoo commercials; silky, perfectly styled, and dying to be touched. Her pink lips wrap around the straw that sits in her sweet tea, her bright blue eyes giving me an innocent expression even though she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“So,” I start, putting my ice water back on the table, “you wanna tell me why you dropped out of Stanford?”
Her body goes completely still for only a brief moment before her brows knit together.
“You mean kicked out,” she rectifies.
