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“Never said that.”
“Fuck you! I won’t ask for your help again.”
The line goes dead.
Doubt it will happen.
* * *
“Hello, dearest neighbor.”
My heart races, and I jump up from my chair. I was so preoccupied with my work that I didn’t hear my office door open.
“Melanie! You’re fired!” I yell when I recover.
“Melanie is going out for lunch and has seen nothing,” she yells from the reception area. “You kids have fun! I’ll be back inone hour, so make it quick.”
I cross my arms and settle down in my chair. “What are you doing here? We’ve been seeing each other more than necessary, and I’m not a fan.”
Kyle smirks, shuts the door, and stands at the head of my desk. Earlier, his demeanor was carefree. Now, he looks determined with his eyes on me.
“You’re not a fan of having lunch with someone?” he asks.
I gulp but hold myself together. Why does him looming over me like this make me nervous? “I prefer to eat solo, like I did throughout high school.”
He shrugs off my response. “Good thing we’re not in high school anymore.”
“I’m not hungry for your food or your games, Kyle. I have work to do.”
“So selfish,” he says, casually strolling around my desk. “What ifI’mhungry?”
I tense up but keep my voice level. “Go feed yourself then. I’m not your mom who will bake chicken whenever you ask. Go find yourself a nice Martha Stewart to hang out with because it will not be me.”
“Now, why would I want a woman who cooks when I can have that smart-ass mouth of yours? Keep throwing the attitude at me. It makes me want you more.”
I gulp. “The feeling is not mutual.”
I hold in a gasp when he grabs the chair and turns me to face him.
“What time do you want me to pick you up? Dinner is at seven, but we can spend time together beforehand if you’d like. Maybe a quickie in my backseat?”
“Never o’clock.”
“Come on, Chloe. Youlovedmy mother’s food along with some other perks I won’t specify in your workplace. Don’t you want more of that?”
What’s disturbing is, Idowant more, and him standing in front of me with his crotch practically in my face isn’t helping the matter.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask, irritated. “You want me to go to the house of the man who proposed moving city lines, so the neighborhood I grew up in wouldn’t be in it? He called us scums of the sewer.”
“My father won’t be there. He doesn’t show up to family functions.”
“Still not happening.”
Heat spreads through my chest when he drops to his knees and glances up at me with a grin. My skin flushes when he grabs the hem of my skirt, and a chill hits me when he yanks it up. He’s keeping a slight distance between us—most likely in case I kick him in the face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss. My stomach tightens, and instead of kicking him in the face, I want it between my legs.
I’m frozen in place when his hands splay across my bare thighs, leading my breathing to rise while I await his next move.
