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My cheeks heat, and I swallow loudly. “Yes,sir.”
He stands up and strokes my cheek with his knuckles before he clears his throat. “Good. Get back to work. I need the PowerPoint presentation notes ready by four this afternoon.” He leaves to sit at his desk, but watches me through the glass door, smirking.
I’m. So. Fucked.
I’m grateful to have today and tomorrow off. I haven’t said much to Atlas since the day he chewed out his former employee and told me he was going to fuck me if he caught me eye-fucking him again, so I kept my distance as much as possible, only giving him one-word answers. I studied him throughout different meetings to see if I wanted to learn from him. Turns out, he’s as brilliant as his father. He goes into meetings with his head held high, fighting for the rights of his employees so that they can work in a good environment when he’s not around. Next week, he’s renting out a building, turning it into a daycare for parents to have free access to, and he’s also offering free classes on fashion and modeling. Turns out the Grinch actually has a heart.
This week was the most challenging because it was hard to keep my hormones in check. Throughout the days, I fantasize about me blowing him under the desk as he takes a call, or him taking me against the glass window. It’s growing worse by the second, and I excuse myself a lot to go to the bathroom, so I can break the sexual tension. Also, I suspect he keeps me working late as much as possible because he can be close to me.
I lounge on the couch with a crystal glass of wine in my hand as I watchThe Haunting of Bly Manor. I’m trying to keep my mind off Atlas. He’s been living in my head rent-free, and I don’t like it.
I don’t understand this hold he has on me. It isn’t helping. I need to find something else to think about. I glance out the window, and the skyscrapers twinkle like diamonds. The streets are busier on a Friday night. I should be exploring the city, but I spent most of my time with people all week. Sometimes, it’s nice to be by myself, find comfort in my own company. I drain the remainder of my wine and stroll to the kitchen to grab the unopened champagne Poppy gave me for my housewarming gift.
The ringing of the doorbell startles me. Slowly, I set the warm bottle onto the granite counter and trail to the door. Placing my hands on the oak wood, I stand on my pink tippy-toes and peek through the peephole. Nervousness flutters in my stomach. My heart drums in my chest, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Atlas leans against the doorframe, looking like a Greek god. What the hell is he doing here, showing up at my place this late?
He rings the doorbell again, and I don’t respond.
“I know you’re in there, Lake. I checked with the doorman.” His tone grows impatient.
“Lake Ortiz is not here. Please leave a message at the tone.Beep,” I boom.
“Stop playing games, and open up the damn door. I brought you food.”
My mother told me it’s rude to keep a person waiting when they go out of their way for you. I don’t feel like cooking tonight anyway, so I glance down at my robe, which I’m not wearing anything underneath. It won’t be a good idea to allow him to see me in this state of underdress, so I rush to my closet in my bedroom and change into a halter neck top and a pair of tiny shorts. When I stand in front of the door, I remove the tie from my hair and shake my curls out. Slowly, I twist the knob, swinging the door open. Atlas looks sexy in his gym clothes. The black t-shirt makes his muscular chest and arms pop, and his gray basketball shorts hang loose on his hips. His smile spreads across his face, and I melt like butter.
“Why did you bring me food?” I sidestep, and he barges in like he owns the place. I check out his ass, and I can sink my nails into it as he fu— I shake my head.Stop it, Lake.
He twists to glance at me, and his eyes land on my scar. Shit, I forgot to put makeup on it or at least try to cover it up with my bangs. But, then again, he’s seen my scar more times than I can count. He tears his gaze from my face, glazing at my breasts then shorts. He’s undressing me with his eyes, and my cheeks flush.
“You told me no to dinner, so I brought it to you.” He smirks, keeping his eyes glued to my outfit. “You’re a cocktease.”
“Whatever. I was wearing this before you showed up,” I lie, smiling.
He follows me to the kitchen, drops the takeout onto the granite counter, then glances around my place. It’s not as fancy as his, but it’ll do. I have some of my stuff covered in plastic because I painted my living room walls lavender, and a few decorations of random pictures are hanging on the dried walls. My place is coming along well, better than I thought it would, since I don’t have an interior designer bone in my body.
He removes the two takeout boxes, and places them onto the counter. “Well, that’s a first.”
“What is?”
“You’re being nice to me.” He exhales. “I brought you Korean BBQ.”
“I love Korean food.”
He winks. “I know.”
He perches on the barstool, and I shake in my head. “Let’s eat in the living room.”
He nods, grabbing our food, then we perch onto my leather couch. I fold my legs Indian style as I dig into the ribs. I moan loud as if it’s the best food I have ever experienced eating, and Atlas doesn’t take his eyes off me. I scoot as far as I can away from him and my hormones rage. I’ve never wanted to have sex with someone the way I want to with him.
We finish our food, then he sets both our plates onto the coffee table, and he settles next to me, my knee touching his thigh and his hand resting on the back of the couch.
Lust swims in the depths of his pupils. “Relax, Boots. I’m not going to bite you, unless you give me permission to do so.”
His words make my arousal dampen my panties. “Why do you call me Boots?”
He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek, and they flush pink in response.
“One of the Christmases our families spent together, we had to do Secret Santa, which I thought was the dumbest shit ever. Anyways, I picked your name out of the hat to buy you a gift, and I asked your mother what you’d like for Christmas, and she told me you’ve been wanting a pair of Tom Ford boots with the gold heels. So, I bought those for you.”
