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She turns the chair around. “Fifteen minutes?”
I scoop up her purse and hang it on the rack. “You brought food?”
She laughs. “No. I thought about it too late.”
My own lips curl up when I hear the musical sound of her laughter. Her eyes are sparkling and twinkling the way they do when she’s about to get me in trouble.
“What’d you bring for me?” I move to the gift bag and peer inside. In a disappointed voice, I say, “Oh.”
“You’re welcome. That’s a designer coat, you understand? Very expensive.”
“You’ve got great taste.”
“So I’ve been told.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling.
I watch her with a grin on my face. Kaelyn’s the only one who can brighten my entire day with her mere presence. The only one who can make me grin like an idiot for absolutely no reason.
She spins the chair from side to side, one foot on the ground while the other is tucked up under her thigh. The position has her skirt riding high, exposing her soft brown skin to me. Her white blouse has a clenched black fist graphic on it and a scooped collar that shows a hint of cleavage.
I stride over to her because she’s Kaelyn.
Because she’s my best friend.
Because, after last night, I wasn’t sure if I would lose that. That easy, quiet, natural part of us. I was afraid that lust would burn it all up and leave nothing behind.
She lifts her chin when I sit on the edge of the desk. “I did something.”
“You always do.”
She swats at me. “I told your assistant. About us.”
“That explains why she was grinning from ear to ear.” I tilt my head. “Why?”
“Why was she grinning? Uh… she’s very supportive of interracial relationships and believes that everyone should be judged by their character and not as a stereotype—”
“Why did you tell her.” I smirk.
“Oh.” Her eyelashes flutter. “Practice.”
My heart shifts. “Practice?”
“Yeah.” She looks up. Slowly licks her lips. “I want more… practice.”
Seventeen
Kaelyn
I’m losing my mind. That’s the only explanation for what just came out of my mouth.
Will he get it?
Will he understand what I’m asking for?
My teeth clench as I hold my breath. One part of me is hoping he doesn’t. That I can laugh it off and pretend that I’m joking. But the other part of me…
That part is screaming please touch me.
I’m burning up. The sunshine pouring through the windows is on my face.
