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Didn’t say I felt bad, so that confirms my suspicions that I look bad.
I nod and give her another one of my polite smiles.
“Thank you.”
She hands me the key card, and after I tell her I won’t need help with my bags, she points me in the direction of my elevator.
As I start to walk away, thankful I still have twenty-three minutes before the meeting, I hear Ivy’s silky voice call out my name. I’ve had minimal interactions with her over the past ten months, and truth be told, I kind of forgot there would be a lot of time spent with her in crowded rooms this weekend.
Ivy Wallace. My boss. My boss that I fucked…a lot.
It’s been a year since Tokyo, where we decided we were going to explore whatever it was we had between us. It lasted all of two months before we both decided to put a stop to it. The anxiety I was experiencing on a daily basis was all-consuming. I couldn’t sleep, wondering if we would be found out and I would lose my job. The thought of losing my job due to a situation like that was enough to give me panic attacks. I would be untouchable in the rest of the corporate world.
And she was just as worried, not wanting any of her colleagues to find out. It never looks good when a woman in power is fucking a subordinate. Or any employee for that matter. When a man does it? Hell yeah, roll out the red carpet and champagne. But for her, it could have been reputation destroying. She would never be taken seriously again.
So we stopped after two months of amazing, mind-blowing sex. She’s a little dominant in the bedroom, and I fucking love that. Just thinking about it now makes my tired dick twitch in my pants. We were great together—our chemistry was off the charts. Ever since, we’ve been avoiding each other as much as possible. We are cordial in the halls if we pass one another, but I’ve been put on cases that she doesn’t oversee, and even my office was moved onto a different floor.
“Greg!” she says again, and I can hear the smile in her voice. It’s a change from her stern office voice.
I run my hands through my hair as I turn around, embarrassed that this is how she’s going to see me for the first time in a while. But I get distracted when I face her because she is breathtaking. Her straight hair is down, lying over her shoulders and chest. She’s dyed it since I last saw her, and now it’s almost black. Fuck if it doesn’t make her damn blue eyes pop even more.
She’s dressed in a stylish, olive-green pantsuit that flatters her small waist and long legs. The arms of her jacket are rolled up, exposing the little tattoo she has on her wrist. With the heels she’s wearing, she almost reaches my height.
“Hi, Ms. Walsh.” I’ve reverted back to professionalism, not wanting to seem too close to her if anyone is within earshot.
“You look exhausted.” She makes a face, and I don’t miss the way her hand begins to reach out to me before she thinks better of it. Instead, she crosses them beneath her breasts.
“Flight was canceled because of the storms,” I explain. “I literally just walked through the door.”
“Skip the first meeting. Get some sleep.”
I can’t help myself—I raise an eyebrow and smirk in her direction. I’ve rarely seen this side of her in public. Normally, she saves the softer side of her for the bedroom when she’s had her fill of orgasms and a full night’s sleep.
“Oh, Gregory,” she says with a delicate laugh. Her hand finally reaches out and touches my bicep. “Don’t look at me like that.” Her hand squeezes it. “You look like shit. Go up to your room, take a shower, and have a fucking nap. You’re not going to be good to anyone in that state.”
I sigh, knowing she’s right. My brain is mush, and my limbs are struggling to hold me up. I used to be able to work like this all the time, wired on caffeine. But I’m getting older. Shit, I turned thirty this year, and suddenly, my joints are sore every day, and one cup of coffee doesn’t do what it used to. But one glass of alcohol? I have heartburn and a headache the next day. My body is slowly starting to betray me.
“Yeah, fine. Okay.” I sigh. “I do feel like shit.”
She smiles and pulls her hand back to her person.
“I’d like to have a chat with you this weekend…catch up.” She looks unsure of herself. I don’t know who this woman is because she doesn’t look anything like the bossy woman I knew when we first started fucking around. “Would that be okay?”
Those sapphire eyes look up at me from under dark eyelashes, and the longer I stare, the pinker her cheeks go.
“Yeah, of course,” I finally answer. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“It has,” she agrees, nodding. Her confidence slips back into place. “Next meeting is at one. I assume you’ll be ready to go by then?”
I give her a little salute, and my ego swells a bit when she laughs quietly. I always loved that I was able to make her laugh when no one else around the office did.
“Get some sleep,” she says, turning on her heel to walk back toward where I assume one of the conference rooms is. “You look like shit,” she tosses over her shoulder with a smirk.
I shamelessly watch her ass sway while she walks away. Her heels are clicking on the tile floor, and her dark hair softly moves with each step. God, I miss wrapping it in my fist as I fuck her from behind, her tight ass rippling with each thrust inside of her.
When she’s out of eyesight, I give myself a mental shake and try to catch my bearings. Finding the direction I was previously heading in, I see the elevator and make aim for it. And of course, the thing is filled with mirrors, giving me a lovely 360 view of my trashed-looking self.
“Jesus Christ,” I murmur as I run my hands through my hair and over my face. “You look like shit, bro.”
