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When Greg tried to pursue me, Kevin almost shit bricks before I even realized what was happening. The mindless flirting Greg did. The touches. “Pick up the phone, gorgeous,” comments. I could feel the agitation from Kevin in a single look or phone call from Greg. It should relieve Kevin that Greg has left on a mission and isn’t around anymore. That’s what his text message showed. Top secret mission, I leave for an extended period. Then the ever-nauseating Pick up the phone when I call, gorgeous was the last text I received. I never texted back.
These past couple of weeks, my mind has been in the middle of a tornado of shit. Reconfiguring of offices and Mr. DuPont’s rage at something that happened with his wife. She must have him by the balls about something. He has increased the security here at the office and he has been on the warpath. My therapist has canceled sessions until further notice. Personal reasons are the only explanation she gave me.
The shooter in the park made my tiny world smaller. I know the feeling of being looked at under a microscope, hell that is what a woman like me in a man’s world feels like most of the time, but that was an entirely distinct feeling. At school, I could face the people who wanted to tear me down, yet this shooter who was just firing off shots uncaring of who they may strike, is something they did not prepare me for.
Then we have John. My legs automatically rub together just thinking about him. He drew me in with the way he looked at me and wow… the quick, sexy remarks back had me crawling on my knees to him. How, in God’s name, was he not snatched up by some suburban stay-at-home parent who immediately got knocked up and twenty kids by now? He hasn’t pressured me into dating or given me any expectations. He doesn’t seem intimidated by my forceful personality or job. That is hot. The first text conversation had me on my knees, thanking the man upstairs for breaking the dry spell between my legs. Remembering, I took out my small calendar book from my purse and had to fan myself. Those lips are itching for a correction. Have you ever had a woman panic laugh in lust? Let me tell you this… it’s not sexy. No, it’s a mix of a grunt, a laugh, and gasping for oxygen. My face seemed to follow.
This man has me laser-focused on just him. Damn, Reese, pull your shit together or start packing a backup pair of panties in your purse.
The day he covered me in the park when the shots rang out, pulling me to safety and making sure we got home untouched, shook my world to the core. He had looked back at me with concerned confidence like he’d done that before. No big deal, right? Calm, collected, in control.
I didn’t realize he had served until his panting and mumbling woke me. I saw his body covered in sweat and I immediately sat across the room until he seemed to come down from whatever nightmare he was having. As sexy as he was in a wet, tight shirt that fit his muscles perfectly, a flashback of Kevin overshadowed it. The memory of Kevin throwing me against a wall pinned me to the chair on pins and needles, waiting for it to be over. When his body finally relaxed, I made my way to him. Softly saying his name, soothing him awake. Just let him gradually adjust back to reality. I sat outside the bathroom waiting for him to finish his shower, but after twenty minutes and I didn’t hear any noise other than the water running I decided to take a chance and face him.
He had held me when I was in need, and I wanted to be there for him. Unconventional, but I knew for a guarded man, he needed to see all of me and feel skin with nothing between us. My mind is scared at the thought of the mental struggle he doesn’t speak about. I don’t want to lose him when I’ve only just got him. I’ve noticed the way he will tap his fingers on any surface they can find, like they are searching for something, anything, to distract his mind when he becomes anxious.
This man doesn’t say a lot, yet when he speaks, it is with substance and meaning. So much power behind his words and even more behind what he doesn’t say. I took in his body and saw how disfigured his skin was in so many places. Tattoos cover most of them, but the significant ones I noticed, even behind the ink, are the self-inflicted ones. It occurs to me that this is the reason he never got married and had a rat pack of kids. My poor man. My man.
I let him take the lead that night. I’d never felt such a strong connection with someone until that moment. This was more than lust and desire. This was breathing air for the first time. I’ve been walking this earth day to day thinking I have it all. Nothing could compare to how I’ve built my world from scratch… until that moment. God, the way his skin touched mine electrified the universe.
“Hey, boss!” my assistant yells outside my office, pulling me from my thoughts.
I smack my cheeks, trying to pull myself out of my self-made porn video in my head. I need to invest in fans if this keeps up. Fans, spare panties, vacation! I need a vacation! Wonder if John would consider going? Oh, the naughty things we…
“Ms. Grafton?” My assistant Holly pokes her head around my door. “You okay?”
“Holly, what can I do for you?” I sit up taller in my seat and shift to create some relief.
“Mr. DuPont would like to meet with you regarding the figures for the reconstruction. He wants to complete everything and have the finished date moved up. I have set up a meeting at four to give you a bit more time to get everything together,” Holly informs me.
I roll my eyes and then give her a thankful smile. “Maybe I can finish before dinner.”
She covers her mouth to giggle. “Dreaming. I’ll run to the hibachi truck for takeout, then we can dig into figures he’ll change again.”
She dashes to her desk to grab her wallet and speed walks to the elevators. Glad I brought her in as my assistant instead of accepting anyone DuPont offered. The women he hired were there for aesthetics. No substance, but they didn’t need substance to make a copy or cup of coffee.
I focus on my computer and pull up my documents to do a cost analysis. Pulling up the blueprints of the building he wants to be remodeled. I cannot imagine what he intends to change. Sitting back in my chair to have a breather before diving into this, I look at the TV in my office. It is on the stock market and I take a moment to watch how the stocks have increased and decreased. This affects the price of building materials and I can expect the cost effects on the design. I notice the stock in DuPont Enterprises has taken a small dip. The scandal with the senator hit a bottom line here. Senator Townes seemed like such a good man. It’s a shame he was a scumbag. My heart goes out to his wife, having to face the media. They are ruthless with her and I can’t decipher what is true and what story they made up. I shake it off and focus back on my work. So engrossed in my work that a text message pulls me from my blinders. I look at my screen and smile.
So, there is this girl who is occupying my mind. John texts me.
Really? She sounds needy. I text back.
The small bubbles appear and disappear, causing a buildup of anticipation.
She is, but I like that. I am the only one to satisfy her.
Quickly, I grab a small stack of papers and fan myself. He’s good. I lick my lips and send a text back to him. Do you plan to satisfy her tonight?
I’d say so. I’ve proven I am not a one-and-done kind of guy.
I have to spread my legs apart a bit to give air to my thirsty core which is drowning in the flood. This man has me coming undone.
You there? He texts again because I need a minute.
I am.
Want me to bring you a napkin? He says with a wink face.
And then some. I say.
