Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
I hum, my hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as his body presses mine into the wall. We kiss forever until things start to get more heated and his erection presses against my hip.
When he pulls back, panting, his eyes on mine, he sucks on my lower lip and smiles. “Saturday, six PM. And wear whatever the fuck you want.”
He straightens up and smooths down his jacket before walking away, leaving me with the need to change my panties.
I look around after admiring his strong, tall form vanish around the corner, and make sure nobody saw us before heading back to my desk.
Was he being genuine? Can you fake a kiss like that? He’s so good at it. I’ve never been kissed like that before. But then… he is a player.
“That was so hot even I need to fan myself,” Miranda comments, stepping out of the elevator behind me and to the right. “I didn’t want to interrupt so I just kept the door open until you were done.”
She smiles a fake smile with perfect white teeth and dark red hair to her jaw. Miranda is one of those naturally sexy women that doesn’t ever come into work looking less than desirable. But then it’s rumored that she has had affairs with at least two married men in the building. She likes the thrill of the taboo, or so Julia says. Not that I speak to Julia, she just likes to gossip to anybody she thinks is listening.
She’s as bad as Wayne who does errands for everybody on this floor and the one below. He’s a huge gossip. I try not to speak to him much. I don’t like people like that, they make me nervous. I don’t like getting suckered into drama and I don’t like talking badly of people, but I’m not brave enough to say anything like Pax did.
I should be. I should defend others, but I don’t have any power here. I’d just become their next target.
“Well done you, Pax is a catch,” she adds as she saunters past, hips swaying and heels clicking on the wooden floor.
My speaker buzzes, I almost daren’t put my earpiece in, but I do and I press the button to receive the call.
“Yes, Mr. C?”
“Thank you for coming back, Rose.”
“Glad to be here, Mr. C. Is the line secure now?”
“Definitely, I had it all recalibrated.”
Phew. “Good. Thank you for my flowers.”
“Does that mean you forgive me?” he asks boyishly, and I can just see the smile on his face despite the fact he’s not here.
I laugh quietly. “Not yet, but maybe one day.”
“I’ll just have to try harder.”
“Oh God, please no more huge bouquets.”
“You don’t like flowers?” His tone is humorous and not offended in the slightest.
I bite my lip, stifling my laugh. “They’re an offensive gift. I have nowhere to put them.”
“Right, because they don’t line up with anything.”
“Exactly. If you’re going to buy me something for any reason in future, I love stationary, notebooks… if you’re feeling really generous there’s the new MacBook…”
His laughter is booming at that remark. “I’ll bear that in mind. But on your salary, I think you can afford to buy yourself the new MacBook.”
“Definitely, but then I’d have to justify the expense to myself and I’m too rigid with my finances to ever let myself buy a new piece of tech when I have tech that works.”
“Rigid,” he murmurs, still laughing under his breath. “If I bought you a MacBook, would you forgive me?”
“It’d be an excellent start,” I jest, feeling a fluttering in my chest. “Do you want me to fetch you lunch today, Mr. C?”
“No, thank you, Rose. Why can’t you just call me Ezra? You did yesterday?”
“I did?”
“Yes, in your apartment.”
I wet my lips and rack my brain. “I was mad, I guess I got a bit personal there. I’m sorry.”
“I prefer it when you call me Ezra.”
“You don’t make anybody else call you Ezra. Why do you want me to?”
He pauses, likely thinking of a good answer. His reply is not what I’m expecting. “It just sounds… nice when you say it.”
I’ve said it maybe a handful of times in the past when he’s corrected me, or like yesterday when we had that heated discussion in my apartment.
How do I say no to that request?
He is my boss after all. I guess I just still don’t feel comfortable being so personal with him.
“Buy me a MacBook and I’ll think about it.”
When he laughs again that fluttering in my chest increases tenfold. It’s excitement and happiness that I’ve made him laugh. He has a nice laugh; I can admit that even while I’m still hurt by him.
“You’ve got a call coming through,” I say softly. “Later, Mr. C.”
“Ezra,” he corrects, and our line goes dead.
I answer the phone and put the man through, then sit back and look at my perfect desk.