“Well, try to keep a low profile today. I hope those girls did a solid one for you last night because I need you to stay here for twenty-four hours. Could you do that?”
“Nope.”
He starts to walk away from me.
“What are you talking about? I just said I need you to stay here.”
“Well, I need to go to the mall,” he says. “Lorna tore my favorite shirt off me last night. She's a hellcat. I want to go pick up a couple of things.”
“Not possible,” I inform him. “I need you to stay here while I try to manage the situation.”
“So, figure it out,” he shrugs, turning back toward the bedroom. “I'm going to the mall, August. Do what you gotta do, okay?”
Fuck.
He shoves his boxers down as he's walking, stepping out of them before heading back into the bedroom. I hear the girls laughing and he doesn't even bother to shut the door.
Looks like I'm babysitting him on a little field trip to the mall. This arrogant little shit.
Chapter 13
Dahlia
Tell me what you want.
I stare at the message, my heart already in overdrive. When I don't immediately respond, another message pops up.
Tell me.
I take a deep breath. There are so many things. He's been on my mind constantly since we started, but the new picture of him in my room made it all seem so much more… intimate. What was he thinking? What did he touch in my room?
I want to see more of you.
Tell me more.
I start to type, then stop. What can I say? That I want to see all of him? That I want to feel him close to me? I want him to show me how he touches himself, watch him touch me? What can I say?
I'm so wet for you right now.
I bite my lip. It's the truth. As I'm sitting at my desk, I feel my body clenching and throbbing, feel how swollen I am.
I would like to feel that, he texts immediately. I want to see those panties again.
My body clenches again. I almost can hear his voice in my ear.
I want to touch them, pull them to the side so I can see your pussy.
I almost see it, he continues, did you know that?
I gasp, standing up suddenly from my desk. I can't be out here in the middle of my office like this.
Heart racing, I rush to the back of the room, trying to find some privacy. There seems to be somebody in the ladies room, so I duck down the other hallway, toward the storeroom where we keep boxes of paper and file folders.
The single overhead fluorescent fixture buzzes and vibrates, giving the room a sort of movielike quality.
My hand trembles as I stare at the face of my phone. I'm hungry to hear more. Is he done? Is that it?
Then what? I dare to ask.