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Why do I bloody care?
Is she sleeping with him? Is he her boyfriend?
Fuck.
What do I even know about her? I didn’t read through her CV; I just know what Shelby told me. She has her MBA and worked internships and part-time roles in marketing firms to get the experience she has now.
Oh, shit! She could be married, for crying out loud.
Wait, she doesn’t wear a ring, so she’s not married or engaged.
That doesn’t always stop someone, as I bloody well know.
My tongue was in her damn mouth only a few weeks ago. I cannot stop replaying those moments when her lips parted for me.
Yes, she stopped us, but for a brief moment, she didn’t...
As soon as I reach the lift, I jam the button and wait. My anger is palpable as I ponder if Raven kissed me while attached to someone else.
Wouldn’t be the first time I fell into that problem.
The chime of the doors opening pulls me from my thoughts, and I step inside. The door is barely open when I hear a request to hold the elevator. I don’t consider who’s speaking as I thrust my arm out to stop them from closing.
Speak of the devil.
As if conjured by my thoughts, Raven steps into the small space. I move aside, enlarging the distance between us. The farther I am from her, the better right now.
But who am I trying to fool?
There could be an airfield between us, and it wouldn’t be enough. I would still find her irresistible. Her intoxicating perfume filters through the air, begging me to approach her, to pull her toward me and inhale. Instead, I fist my hands at my side, willing this ride to be over quickly.
“Are you okay, Mr. Cavendish?”
“Yes,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“Are you sure? You don’t look fine.”
I inhale, willing myself to calm. “Yes.”
“Because if you—”
“Enough!” I snap.
My head turns in her direction, and I see her eyes are wide with shock.
Fuck.
“Umm... sorry,” she squeaks at my outburst. Her chin dips, and she starts to fiddle with the hem of her skirt. Which now draws my attention to how short it is.
Torture.
As we make our ascent to our floor, the air around us grows still, and I’m thankful for her silence, that is until she lifts her head up and looks at me.
“The food in the cafeteria is very good,” she says.
“You seemed to be enjoying it.” My tone is harsh, and she looks puzzled by my reaction.
Her fingers move again, and this time, her nervous fiddling has her touching her blouse. She doesn’t realize it, but the fabric has lifted, and now, a sliver of creamy skin is peeking out, causing my imagination to go into overdrive.
