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Mr. Cromwell? I just fucked her. I look at her, standing in the middle of my office. Damn. A few strands of hair stray from her ponytail, and that flush from our encounter is still in her cheeks. She must have put a gloss on her lips because they look ready to be kissed. I wonder what they'd feel like around my cock.
The idea sends an insurmountable amount of adrenaline through my veins.
The timer goes off, and the frustrating sound travels around me.
"Is that your timer?" she asks, curious.
I reach for my phone and turn it off. "Yes. I was checking something."
Checking that it'll take me a whole lot longer than an hour to get over Hazel Dillon. Probably a lifetime.
"Also, Sarah Harrington called earlier. She was looking for you," I say.
"Really?" She sits across from me. "What did she want?"
"To invite us to her birthday party. She must have liked you."
She smiles. "Cool. Look at me, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous of Dallas."
"Yes. Look at you," I say, and our gazes meet and hold.
Time stretches between us like a worn-out rubber band. We're caught in each other's stare. I deep dive into the hazel ocean of her eyes and don't come up for air.
Hell, yes, I'm looking. She moves first, shifting in the chair, her gaze swinging around the room until it returns to me. "Anything else?"
"Are you busy tonight?"
"Sorta. I want to keep an eye on my dad to make sure he behaves. Moonshine can't make him take his meds, unfortunately."
Shit. Of course. Her father still needs some supervision. And here I am, being my usual selfish self. "Let me know if you change your mind about him needing anything else."
"Great. Why did you ask? If I was busy?"
I pop my knuckles. I can’t tell her now that while she’s freshly fucked, I’m already planning on spending more time with her. "Small talk."
She lifts her eyebrow, then her expression softens. "Are you well? You never small talk."
I'm far from well. I glance at her. "There's a lot about me you don't know."
She surges to her feet. "So it seems. Don't forget about that meeting soon."
15
Hazel
I still hate my boss. I think.
The last few days have challenged my opinions about him. Today's Thursday, and here I am.
We've been busy with work, and he hasn't mentioned anything about a possible future date after we had sex in his office. I assumed he wanted to fuck me and move on, so after sex, I acted professionally. If I were indifferent, he'd notice. I'd scare him away forever if I let him know how obsessed I was with him.
Hell, I've noticed him looking at me the past few days, and I wonder if he has something to say.
But I can't make him. After our make-out sesh on that fake date, I wised up when he'd asked me if I wronged him.
I wonder if he wants to have sex again. Should I have sex with him again?
I mean. I want to. I would. But I can't make it easier for him—as much as my pussy has different ideas on the subject.
