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When he finally kisses me, my heart is in my throat. He’s devouring me, giving me no space to think. I snake my arms around his neck as he firmly lifts my hips higher up the tree.
“Now, how about that dinner?” He pulls away and a part of me wants to refute the absence of his lips.
I nod, biting on my lip.
He’s something else, this one.
I’m happy it’s Friday. After returning to work on Wednesday, Damon continued to be his bossy self but he wasn’t as much of an asshole.
The same couldn’t be said for yesterday. When he expected a task to get done, he expected it hours prior to when he asked for it. As if I were psychic.
He seems in a better mood today. Perhaps it’s because I was proactive on quite a few tasks. We’re getting the hang of working together; he’s trusting me a bit more, not talking to me like I’m an idiot.
My body is right next to his chair, waiting for him to finish reading another summary report that I drafted and emailed to him. I also prepared his speech for an upcoming conference.
I wish I’d have sat on the chair facing his desk. Instead, I’m stuck looming over him, his cologne rendering me weak in the knees.
“Good. Next.”
Good.
That’s Dreygon slang forexcellent.
I deserve a pat on the back.
While his eyes read the speech on his laptop, I study his stern expression. I imagine myself pulling on his hair, kissing his cheeks, my mind taking a dirty twist before I stop and repeat my mantra: Harvey.
Damon looks up at me at this exact moment, and I mentally curse myself for the flaming-red cheeks that greet him.
“It’s . . . different.”
“Different can be good.” I hear myself say.
Different can be good? Why don’t you tell him you picture having sex with him while you’re at it?
But then I relax when I realize he obviously won’t take my comment the wrong way.
“I agree. Different can be very ...verygood.” He stares at my lips, my ear, before zooming in on my eyes like he wants to memorize each of my features. Like he’s remembering something.
I wait for him to say something.Anything.
“I’ll tweak it and send you back the changes.” He gets up, holding my gaze as he speaks. “You have a distinctive voice.”
“Is that a good thing?” I feel so small when he towers over me. I wish I could find the backbone I know I have somewhere inside of me to stand my ground against Damon, but I’m too busy melting at his nearness.
I should quit. If I knew what was good for me, I’d quit.
“It is.” He mumbles what sounds like a curse under his breath, taking long strides to the window that overlooks Chicago.
His irritation baffles me until he turns around to face me, hands in his pocket. “Stop looking at me like that, Ackerman.”
I look away, ashamed of getting caught. I’m sure it’s not the first time an assistant found his looks irresistible. He walks toward me, and I walk backward, putting some much-needed space between us until my back staggers against the cabinet and he’s standing over me with his tall frame.
“It’s Gemma.”
He looks at me, dead in the eye, like he can see everything.
As if he knows what I truly bury underneath me.
