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“You’re doing good work here,” Mr. Wheaton said to Albion, though he included me in the statement before he tugged at his cuff links and left at a fast clip. His assistant flashed us a bright smile and hustled after him, tapping at an iPad as she went.
All in all, it was what I would classify as a good workday, except for the guilt that crept back to settle into my gut when I had nothing else to think about. It was after six o’clock by the time I climbed into Albion’s truck and slumped on the passenger seat.
Albion began to drive and snagged his sunglasses out of the console before slipping them on his face. The wheels went over a small bump as he took the truck out of the parking lot onto the street. I bit my bottom lip because he looked even sexier with the dark lenses than he usually did.
“What do you normally eat?” he asked, then swore and braked hard because someone slowed and turned without a signal.
Pure panic dug around in my guts, easily stirred up since it had been hanging around inside me all day. This was a real conversation. Hell, what should I say? Damn it, I had no idea.
“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His jaw went hard and stood out sharply, and I hated that I could see him getting annoyed with me. I didn’t want to make him unhappy—just the opposite.
“Uh.” I shrugged. “Whatever’s on sale at the grocery store.”
He puffed out his cheeks with a deep breath. “Fine, but what do youprefer?”
I ran my hands along my thighs, plucking at the fabric. There hadn’t been many chances to be picky in my life. What should I say? “I don’t know.”
He sighed.
Panic washed through me again, tightening my abs until they ached. “Um, I like chicken Alfredo and chicken tetrazzini.”
“Those are pretty similar. Heavy sauces, too. Italian, then?” He glanced at me quickly before returning his attention to the road.
I laced my fingers together on my lap and squeezed them until my knuckles ached. “I guess.”
He grunted.
“What?” I asked, staring at him.
He shook his head and pursed his lips. “I want you to have some opinions.”
I crossed my arms and hugged myself.What does that mean?I glared at him out of the corner of my eye, then jumped when I realized he was watching me.
He snorted. “What? You have something to say, so say it.”
“No, you don’t,” I said, turning slightly toward him.
He laughed. “I do. I don’t want to play with a cardboard cutout. I want someone fun. That means opinions. If I wanted to fuck a spineless sex doll, I would’ve already had one.”
With a slow inhale, I cupped my hands to my cheeks. Well, I didn’t think I was very fun, so this was probably doomed. “Okay.”
There was no missing his eye roll, and my stomach dove. I was messing this up, and I wasn’t really sure how to get back on track. We barely spoke to each other, except for simple commands from Albion. Things like “get out” and “follow me” and “try to be less of a fucking nuisance.”
I spent the rest of the ride battling hyperventilation. Once we were inside his apartment, he tapped away on his phone. The scent of the place, slightly musky in a delicious, masculine way, washed over me, and I shivered. Everything in the space reminded me of him and his heavy-handed ways... and as much as he confused me—even slightly scared me—I did enjoy how he treated me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, nervously shuffling from foot to foot near the door. He glared at me, and I realized the door was still hanging open and rushed to shut it.
“Ordering food,” he said, then with a long exhale he tossed his phone onto the couch before removing his suit jacket. I watched him, unable to look away as he strolled into his bedroom. Memories of what he’d done to me the last time I was on his bed had my stomach going warm and liquid. I nearly swallowed my tongue when he came back out with a small coil of pink rope.
Albion winked and tossed the ball of rope between his hands. The rope was fairly wide looking and seemed like maybe it wouldn’t snag on my skin. He walked casually out to the glass dining room table. He studied me for a few seconds, and I twitched under the scrutiny. He set down the rope and stared at me as he rolled his sleeves to his elbows. I swallowed hard as his muscular forearms came into view with a dark dusting of hair. Was it weird that I wanted to run my tongue over his arms? Fuck, I wanted to lick every part of him.
He’d had his cock pushed against mine, and I hadn’t even touched it yet. I curled my fingers against my palms and saliva gathered in my mouth. Damn it, I wanted to wrap my lips around him and?—
“Sit here and put your arms on either side of the table leg,” he said, pointing at the floor.
“What?”
He snickered and gestured sharply. “You know how to be a dog. Sit.”
