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“Can I come in?” I asked, knocking on the wall.
“Yeah,” he replied, not looking back.
I walked in with slow steps, like it could stop the thumping in my chest. I rehearsed my apology speech in my head again as I stopped one foot from where he sat. He closed the file in front of him and turned around in his seat. I tried to keep my eyes on his face and not his shirtless torso.
His eyes scanned what I was wearing.Great. Today, I’d decided to wear my big pajamas set. He was checking me out? I probably looked like a stick wrapped in a blanket.
“Did you discover one of my skeletons?” he asked, folding his arms.
“I’m … um … I’m sorry for that night. I was a little drunk.” Well, that was not how the apology speech was supposed to start. “I shouldn’t have done that,” I said, trying not to stutter.
He didn’t say anything. He stared at me like he was waiting for me to say more.
“I … I was angry and … um … I … I said stuff that …”
“I have never seen you lost for words. I’m not mad at you, Chloe, but I accept your apology since it was the hardest thing you’ve ever done,” he said with a playful smile.
“So, we are cool?” I asked.
“Yes, if you help me type this,” he said, raising a paper.
“Really? You’re not mad about what I said?”
“I was, but I’m over it.”
“Okay, but quick warning: my fingers are not that fast,” I said, walking to his large desk.
I leaned closer and tried to type a sentence, but Tristan gripped my hips and pulled me to sit on his lap.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, moving his hands to my waist.
I tried to focus on what I was typing as his fingers played with the waistband of my pajamas.
“How have you been?” he asked, giving me a soft squeeze on the waist.
“Good.” I tried to keep my composure.
“You smell nice. New shampoo?” He leaned closer to my hair.
“Yeah,” I replied.
I adjusted on his lap to find a comfortable position. Tristan’s sharp intake of air made me smirk. I moved again, and he groaned. I tried to move again, but he gripped my hips, halting my movement.
“If you do that again, I won’t hold back,” he said, running his palm down my thigh and up to my waist.
My mind didn’t care about the typing anymore. I wanted him to touch me everywhere. One day away from him, and I was starved.
“You owe me, Chloe, so keep typing,” he said close to my ear.
I tried to ignore the heat that spread to every part of my body, and the bulge in his pants wasn’t helping. I kept my eyes on the keyboard and continued typing.
“We had a deal, and you’ve been drinking,” he said, sounding disappointed.
“I’m sorry.”
“We can work something out to help,” he said against my neck as his lips trailed up to my ear.
I gasped when he slipped his rough palm up my stomach, his finger brushing against the space between my breasts. His other hand dipped into my pajama pants, his fingers circling my most sensitive spot. I gasped as his hand slipped into my underwear and touched me where I wanted.
