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11: Selene
I get into the office early and set my coffee down on my desk. I like the quiet before everyone else starts to arrive. Things are starting to settle down since the disruption that is Ronan. Despite the fact that he’s a more active owner than Brad was, I still have a never-ending list of things to do. I boot up my laptop and answer a few emails while I sip my coffee.
There’s a report from the sales team, and as I scan the numbers I realize there are a few discrepancies. I should go over this with Ronan. I glance at the time. It’s not quite eight, but he’s usually in the office early. I decide to pop in and see if he’s here.
Sarah isn’t at her desk yet, so I go straight to his office. His door is open a crack, and I push it open wider.
“Ronan?”
He’s standing next to his desk, his hair wet, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He puts his phone down and smiles at me.
“Oh, shit,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” he says. “Come on in.”
“I can come back later.” I try to stop myself from staring. Holy hell, he’s gorgeous. His broad chest is still a little wet, and his rippling abs glisten. Why does his body have to be so perfect? He turns toward me, and I almost choke. I don’t remember that tattoo on his chest, but fuck it’s hot.
One corner of his mouth turns up. “Sorry, I went for a run and decided to shower here.”
“Really, I’ll come back.” Why aren’t my legs moving? My hand feels like it’s glued to the doorknob and I can’t turn around.
“Should I get dressed, or close the blinds?” he asks.
I should not be thinking about the fact that we’re probably alone, because the office is essentially empty, and if he did close the blinds… That’s a very good reason for me to turn my ass around and come back when I’m sure he’s dressed.
But god, he looks good.
“Clothes,” I manage to say. I need to get myself together so he doesn’t see how flustered I am.
Though it’s probably too late for that.
His dimple puckers with his smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He goes into the bathroom, but leaves the door open a crack. Of course he doesn’t shut the door all the way. As if I’d be tempted to peek while he’s getting his clothes on.
Fine, I’m tempted.
To keep my eyes away from the bathroom door, I look at the photos on the wall. There are several of him skydiving, taken from various angles—some in the air, and one just as he’s landing. Another shows him rock climbing. He’s clinging to a smooth face of red rock, shirtless, his muscles taut.
Looking at his pictures isn’t really helping.
He comes out of the bathroom, mostly dressed. He’s wearing dark gray slacks, but his shirt is open and his hair is still damp. Why does he have to be so fucking sexy? I want to grab him by the waist of those slacks and run my tongue down his abs.
“Is this better?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I blink, making sure to focus on his face. “Mostly.”
He smiles. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s such a showoff, but god, he does it so well. This should not be working for me, but I’m getting hotter by the second.
“Do you need something, or did you just miss me?” he asks as he starts buttoning his shirt.
“No, I was wondering if you saw the email with the sales reports.” I resist the urge to fan myself. I’m a little warm. “It looks like there are some discrepancies and I thought we should go over the numbers.”
“How about over dinner?”
“Ronan.”
“It’s well within the rules,” Ronan says.
