We talk about Kitty Pie for a few minutes before conversation drifts to work. No, I missed the drunk man urinating in the elevator at last weekend’s wedding, but he’d totally heard that one of my co-workers had been fired for spending the night with a guest—and his wife.
Our laughter is still ringing around the room as I plate the chicken, which looks perfectly fried, and pull out the biscuits. He stops both with a single question.
“So…I hear Paul asked you out. You say yes?”
Rush
Fuck me. If it’s hard not to want Vanessa while watching her from the curb outside, being this close to her and not claiming her is agony. Somehow, I find the restraint to be a good boy—at least until it’s obvious she doesn’t want to answer my simple question. And I need to know. The idea of her with Paul makes me violent.
“Um…” She bites her pouty lip. Her long lashes brush her cheeks flushed from the wine.
Any chance my nearness is contributing to her rosy face?
“You heard about that?” She winces, though I think she means it to be a smile.
Yep, within five minutes of the guy asking. I know everything that happens to Vanessa. At work. At home. At school. I know what she’s watching on Netflix. I know what she’s reading on her device. I even know what she surfs on her laptop late on a Saturday night when she’s feeling alone.
What would she say if she knew I was aware of all her most forbidden fantasies?
Vanessa bustles to the table with platters of food. I take the rest and follow her, grinding my teeth as she bends over to set the plates down, revealing the womanly curve of her ass—and more. Jesus, is she even wearing panties?
As we sit, I start to sweat. I knock back the last of my wine, trying to cool down. But I’ve done all the drinking I should tonight. Vanessa needs me to keep her safe, which means staying sharp—and keeping my hands off of her.
No idea where that fortitude will come from.
I shrug. “Everyone heard about it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Why is the staff so gossipy?”
“Because they’re bored and have nothing better to do.”
“It’s so annoying…” she huffs as she loads up a plate of chicken, potatoes, and biscuits that look every bit as good as my mother’s—and that’s saying something.
Vanessa isn’t a gossip. She doesn’t seem to care one whit who on staff is doing whom. In the months I’ve watched her, she’s kept remarkably to herself, mostly chatting up co-workers if it affects the job in some way. But I’ve also seen her comfort people. I especially adored the way she dropped everything a few weeks back to help one of the new front-desk staff members who suddenly had to put down her dog. Vanessa was compassionate and sweet and everything a person could want in a friend.
Once she hands me my plate, she dishes herself some dinner, then digs in while I pour more vino into her empty glass. I’m not trying to get her drunk so I can get her underneath me. If I ever coax her there, I want her one-hundred-percent sober and on board. But right now, she needs to relax and forget about the danger. Worrying about that shit is my job. But since I’m not allowed to put her in an orgasm coma, booze is my next best option to calm her.
“Can’t argue with that. So did you?” I prompt. “Say yes to Paul?”
“No.” She hides her face behind her hands, then peeks over her fingers at me with those batting blue eyes.
She’s a woman…but sometimes she has this lost little girl quality that makes my dick so fucking hard.
Yes, I’m a total pervert.
And the fact she turned down a guy who’s perfectly acceptable boyfriend material—and doesn’t have blood all over his hands—confuses me. “Why?”
“He’s a nice guy. It wouldn’t be right for me to lead him on.”
“You’re not interested?”
“No.”
I can’t help the smile that crosses my face. “I’m happy to hear that.”
She blinks in confusion. “Why?”
If I can’t touch her, I don’t want anyone else putting their hands on her, either. That’s not fair, I know. But no one said life was.
“Honestly, I don’t think he’s right for you,” I say, digging into my food.
Vanessa sighs. “He’s really into Star Wars, has a comic book collection, and loves cosplay. Nothing wrong with it, just not my jam. How’s your dinner?”
“Damn good. Wow… This might be the best gravy I’ve ever tasted.” I level a hot stare on her. “I should marry you.”
She giggles. “Maybe you should. Gravy whenever you want it…”
Holy shit, I want a lot more than gravy from Vanessa, especially now that she’s flirting. It’s got to be the wine because this isn’t like her—at least not the her in the office. But she’s letting her guard—and her hair—down with me. It’s another turn-on I don’t know how I’ll ignore.