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She smiles. “Of course, Mr. Stride.”
“When we’re off the clock, you can just call me Hunter.”
Her small grin stretches into a full beam. “Okay. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Hunter.”
I leave in a hurry, ignoring the way my heart races and my whole body feels like it’s going to erupt into flames.
Off-limits. She’s off-limits.
But fuck if that doesn’t make me want her more.
Chapter 9
Tip #9: Bend and snap.
EDEN
The next couple of weeks working for Hunter is surprisingly fun.
It’s the strangest thing, but I like following him around Star Rider Studios. It’s fascinating, getting to see the different permanent sets they’ve built in an old, repurposed aircraft hangars. I like the hustle and bustle of the place, people coming and going with massive cranes and mic booms and expensive camera equipment.
Taylor’s car was fixed literally the next day. Hunter’s mechanic, a sweet old man named Buck, fixed me up with new tires —forfree. I have a sneaking suspicion Hunter footed the bill.
He spends a lot of his time trapped in the office, though, stuck in meeting after meeting with seemingly no end in sight. Hunter’s too much of a professional to complain about it, but I can tell that he doesn’t enjoy this aspect of his job very much. It’s in the tension of his shoulders, the steep slant of his brows, the agitated click, click, click of his ballpoint pen as he waits for his chatty business partners to get their point across.
I stay at my desk during these meetings so I don’t disturb him. The calls are recorded, so there’s no need for me to take notes. It gives me the perfect opportunity to study at hour-long intervals, undisturbed. As I crack open my MCAT workbook and go over a practice question that I got wrong, my concentration unfortunately wanes, my eyeline shifting just above my desktop computer’s screen to steal a look at Hunter.
Dear God, he’s wearing suspenders today.
I chew on the end of my pen and bite back a groan. The way the straps hug his body makes my throat uncomfortably dry. He just looks so fucking sexy that it’s frustrating. Hell, at this point I’m so horny it’s starting to hurt, the throb between my legs unbearable. I really want to stomp across the office, climb onto his lap and tear that damn shirt off his chest. I can’t stop thinking about his big hands on my breasts, my waist, my bare ass. At this point, I don’t even care about finding Mr. Respectful.
I just wanthim.
I want Hunter to bend me over my desk and show me why everyone makes such a big deal about sex.
Will he be gentle? Will he be rough? Would he even go for it? I have no idea, but I don’t care anymore. I crave the heat of his skin, the weight of his body, the low rumble of his voice calling my name.
I squirm in my seat, my panties soaked through. I’m practically vibrating out of my own skin, deafened by the sound of my pounding heart in my ear.
Dammit, Eden.
He hasn’t looked at me much since he bailed on spaghetti night. I thought for sure he was going to kiss me in the hallway, but he didn’t. The heated, fleeting glances he used to give me are either much more subtle now or non-existent. It’s infuriating. The overwhelming urge to do something drastic just to keep his eyes on me makes me dizzy.
Iknowhe wants me, so why won’t he do anything about it?
Maybe I have to make the first move.
I gather up a couple of papers and pretend to head to the mailing room when one of the documentsaccidentallyslips from the top of the pile. It flutters to the floor, right in his line of sight.
“Oops,” I murmur, bending over to pick it up.
I’ve been wearing nothing but skirts the past couple of days because I can tell how much he likes them. Today, I’m in Taylor’s dark purple flare skirt that cuts off a few inches above the knees. I’m not in any danger of flashing something I don’t want to —this is still a work environment, after all— but it’sjustenough to win Hunter’s attention. I don’t look back at him as I rise, partially because I’m playing up my obliviousness and partially because I’m worried he might not react the way I want him to.
His mouse clicks once, twice. The call must have ended, or maybe he exited early?
“Eden,” he calls, voice heavy and deep.
I glance at him over my shoulder, smiling sweetly. “Yes, Mr. Stride?”
