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Who is this?
Voice like sex.
Middle of the night phone call?
“Reid fuck-off Chapman.” My heart did that weird racing thing it’s been doing lately and all of a sudden there is a fire blazing under these blankets. Hot flashes. Really? I’m not that old. I need to get the doctor to check me out stat. I kicked out from under my tent and sucked the cold air into my lungs trying to calm my heart and reduce my body temperature from the inside out.
“There she is. Say fuck a couple more times babe while I touch myself. At least one of us can get off tonight.” Who says things like that to a stranger? Who?!
“Reid. I’m going to use my calm voice because apparently you get your kicks from my pissed voice. Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Where did you even get this number?” I don’t remember giving him my cell phone number. I explicitly remember leaving my office line on all of the paperwork with his company, not even my direct line, nope – I gave him the line to my assistant – a lot of good that did me.
“Oh baby, you could suck the helium from a balloon down your sexy throat, and I’d probably get off on that too. I had a question about your claim.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Some of us have work to do, princess.” Is he serious right now? Princess?
“Do not call me that, Reid. I literally just laid down. What is it that you need specifically?” Exasperating, he is totally and completely exasperating.
“Why are you fronting the money on this project? Why the rush?” His direct questions momentarily surprised me. Somehow that’s not at all what I was expecting him to ask.
“Why is that any of your business?” Something about the way he asked bothered me. I’m not hiding anything, but why is Reid calling me in the middle of the night to ask me about something that doesn’t even pertain to him.
“It’s not. Actually, I was just calling to let you know that our payment on the claim will be processed this week. The deadline is now in your lap.” He brushed off his earlier questions and accepted my indirect question as an answer, as if it wasn’t important enough that he would call and interrupt my sleep. Even if I wasn’t truly asleep yet.
“That was quick, and a little too easy. What’s the catch? I’ve worked with enough of your type to know there has to be a catch for it to be this easy. It is never this easy.” I asked, curious.
“My type? Now we’re stereotyping. Really, Holly? I thought you were above that.”
“You overestimate your overwhelmingly annoying ability to bring me down to your level.”
“Have dinner with me.” Wait, what? This man is giving me whiplash.
“Are you bribing me, Chapman?”
“Bribery per its legal definition is to offer, give, or solicit an item of value as a means of influencing the actions of an individual holding a public or legal duty. Technically, I am offering myself to you, but I am not doing so in order to influence a specific action or result. Unless that result ends with your wrists tied to the bedposts of my kind-size bed, in which case, maybe you have a point.”
He’s arrogant. God, is this man ever arrogant. I’m exhausted, and I’m annoyed that he thinks he can speak to me like I should just fall at his feet because he’s handsome and his voice sounds like the damn men Noel hires for her dirty books on audible. Yes, I listen to my sister’s books. I spend a good bit of time in the car driving to and from client locations. Go ahead, judge me.
“I’m hanging up and going to bed. Mail the check and go do whatever it is insurance adjusters do at night. Drink warm tea and snuggle your cat or something. Or, I don’t know, maybe try sleeping like a normal person.” I rolled my eyes knowing he couldn’t see me, but the audacity of this man, I swear.
“Holly. Dinner.” His voice went from playful to demanding. Not demanding angry, more demanding dominant. Trust me, I’ve spent enough time with my therapist to know that there is a very clear difference between abuse and dominance. That is a line I will never again allow myself to cross.
And maybe that’s why I hesitated, if only for a moment. I’m a dominant. I’m a smidge of a control freak. I don’t want a man that backs down when I push. I need a man that’s going to push back, and this is where the line lies. I need a man that will push me to my limits, without pushing over. I need an equal, someone that feeds off of my success, and in return I feed off of his. So maybe that’s why I considered, if only for a second, Reid’s demands. Until I remembered that he’s conceited and tactless and has no respect for business hours or personal boundaries.
“Goodnight, Chapman.” I hit end on the call without allowing him to respond, powering down my phone for the night and laying on top of the multiple layers of blankets on my bed to cool down from the inferno that was currently burning me from the inside out.
I should be pissed at the intrusion of my privacy. I mean, what did he say about the boy shorts? It’s creepy that he guessed what I sleep in, like dead on guessed it. I should be annoyed at his inability to take a hint and his massive ego. Given my track record with men, my brain is telling me that I should stay far, far away from this one.
So why is my heart still racing and every nerve ending in my body tingling?
Why am I sweating when I know it can’t be over sixty degrees in this room?
And most importantly, why the hell are said boy shorts now soaked through, and I have an overwhelming need to relieve the tension myself that Reid somehow managed to build inside of me with his crass words and arrogant demands?
