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“Original title,” I utter.
“Hey, nothing wrong with to-the-point marketing. Their readers knew exactly what they were going to get,” he says.
I snort out a short laugh.
“Readers,” I joke.
I can feel James’s breath against my neck as he peers at the magazine in my lap. My skin beads in reaction, and it takes me a moment to retrain my focus on the girl dressed as a sailor in the centerfold.
“What do you think? Your type?” I lift the magazine and turn it sideways to give us both the full picture. The magazine is from the nineties, so there’s a little grunge vibe to the model’s look. She’s not completely naked, either, though her nipples are on full display through the ripped-out pockets of her shirt.
“I mean, she definitely has something,” James says. I shift my head a tad and glance at him in my periphery, expecting his gaze to be on Tammy and her exceptional outfit, but his eyes are on my face.
“She does, huh?” I chew at the inside of my cheek, my skin buzzing with excited energy.
His eyes scan down my profile, lingering on the place where my bra peaks out from the draped neckline of my dress. His eyes flit to mine again, a suspicious smirk tugging at his lips. Twisting next to me, he brings his right hand toward my body. I brace myself, every nerve-ending in my body firing with electricity that he might kiss me. My tongue passes over my top lip to quell my eagerness and my eyelids grow heavy.
“May I?” His index finger outstretched and pointing toward my me. My brow pinches, because if he’s going to feel me up, this is literally the strangest approach I have ever seen. It’s even more awkward than the Mosely twins, who both spent time with me in the Rothschilds’ coat closet during their Halloween party when we were twelve.
“Uh, you . . . may?” I laugh through the words, baffled but still so aware of how close he is—his mouth, his hand, his body.
James reaches forward and slips his finger under the delicate chain around my neck, lifting the crystal pendant up and rolling it between his finger and thumb.
“My grandmother gave it to me when I turned sixteen,” I say, my throat a little dry. I don’t clear it, though. I don’t want to sound nervous because I’m not. I have him exactly where I want him. This is all going according to plan.
“It’s unique,” he says, the tip of his tongue caught between the front of his teeth before our eyes meet again. He smiles through it but doesn’t shy away from our stare. If he thinks I’m going to back down, he’s mistaken. Doubling down, I blink at him slowly then glance down to the crystal in his hand.
“I like that it matches,” I hint, knowing that his eyes have not missed the crystal stud in the center of my bra, the round curves of the black satin cups fanning out over the cowled neck of my green dress.
A soft laugh leaves his lips as his smirk grows higher on one side, his eyes dipping lower to the matching piece I mentioned. This time, he stares long and hard at the stud centered between my breasts, and I watch his eyes and mouth the entire time.
“It does indeed,” he finally says, a tinge of huskiness to his hushed voice.
He lets the pendant glide away from his hold and rest against my skin again, but his knuckle grazes against the sharp cut edge, tracing along the teardrop shape. I take in a long slow breath, my chest lifting and back arching slightly, my breasts aching under his stare. James breathes out quickly at my slight movement and looks off to the side, leaning back on his left palm again and running his other hand through his hair.
Satisfied that I got to him, if even just a little, I lift the centerfold back up and tilt my head to one side so I can study it as if I’m standing in the Museum of Modern Art.
“I don’t know. I think there’s only one Tammy,” I say. I close the magazine and slide off the desk, turning and handing the booklet to James, who is leaning back on both palms.
After a short pause, he reaches forward and takes the magazine from me and leans to the side to deposit it back in the drawer. I begin to walk away before he’s done.
“Where are you off to?” he asks.
I stop at the doorway and chew at my lip, that giddy feeling of having someone looking at me with desire temporarily easing the void in my chest. I look over my shoulder to find him leaning back on his palms again, his head angled to one side.
“Nothing else to see in that drawer. But thank you for showing it to me.” I blink slowly and let my seductive grin pinch the sides of my closed mouth.
“I’m going to go get something to drink fromthiscentury,” I add before turning to face the glass door again, gripping the handle and dragging it open so as to not draw attention from anyone else.
“Hey,” James hums at my back before I slip back into the archive room. I turn and press a palm against the glass wall, leaning my weight through the doorway so I can hear him.
“There’s only one Morgan Bentley too. Just so you know.” His smile lingers long after his words. He doesn’t move an inch, but his eyes stay on me. My cheeks heat, and though it is rare, it does happen from time to time—I am blushing.
“Enjoy your moonshine,” I finally utter, pulling the door closed behind me this time then turning to search out my roommates.
Nobody noticed where I went, and nobody seems to be missing James. The perks of surrounding oneself with those who are self-absorbed. My head swims from the mix of real whiskey and whatever the fuck was in that flask. But it’s the elation of James’s singular attention that has me truly buzzed. I don’t take another drink for the rest of the night. And James doesn’t leave that office.
Chapter4
