I'm in the process of standing when Faith walks slowly through the doorway.
I have to brace myself at the sight of her. I clutch desperately at the edge of my desk when I see what she's wearing.
It's a little red number that stops just below her knees. It hugs every curve of her tiny form and dips down to show the slightest bit of cleavage. Something about it being long sleeves, but yet revealing her legs and that slight bit of chest makes it look even more forbidden.
Her hair is twisted up in the back, and while I love the way her hair tumbles down around her shoulders, she's just as beautiful with it tied up like this, especially with the tendrils softly framing her face. It makes those hazel eyes framed by thick dark lashes stand out even more.
I’m assaulted by the look of her in person. She's beautiful in pictures. I have every curve of her body committed to memory by now, but it's so much different seeing her in the flesh like this.
She assaults my senses. I can smell her sweet berry scent all the way across my office. It calls to something primal within me, and I feel my cock swelling in my slacks. I readjust my suit coat to hide my growing bulge before I come out from behind the desk.
“Faith Ellison…”
Her eyes widen as she looks up at me, her mouth falling open into a little “o” that I want to stuff my cock in.
“You,” she whispers.
I raise an eyebrow and can't help the slight smirk that overtakes my face. I'm pleased beyond measure that she at least remembers me. I half expected her not to.
My smirk turns into a frown when I recall the way she ran from me. If the way she ran from me is any indication, her memory of me probably isn't as glowing as mine is of her.
“Warren Foxworth,” I formally introduce myself as I hold out my hand to her. I’m willing to take any excuse I can to touch her.
She looks down at my hand like it's a snake that's going to bite her before she slowly reaches out and places hers in mine. I marvel at the feeling of her small palm in my grip, tingles shooting up my arm at the first brush of her skin against mine.
I swear nothing like this has ever happened to me before. No one has ever affected me this way.
“You’re Mr. Foxworth?” she whispers.
I don't know how to feel at this newfound knowledge that she didn't already know who I was. I had half hoped that the only reason she ran from me back at the party was because my reputation preceded me, but now I just feel like shit because it looks like that had nothing to do with why she ran from me.
That bothers me.
Her brow furrows. “Am I in the right place?” she asks uncertainly.
My hand tightens around hers as I unconsciously pull her a step closer. “Yes, you are.” My voice comes out as a growl, and I see her eyes widen.
Dammit, I really need to work on my surly disposition. Maybe Matt has been right about me all along if I can't even say the simplest things without eliciting a look of fear on this sweet girl's face.
I clear my throat and attempt to speak in a more normal voice. “You’re my new intern.”
Faith blinks then. It’s as if the word “intern” has snapped her back to reality. She straightens her shoulders and pulls her hand from mine before she takes a step back and attempts to act professional. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Foxworth—”
I interrupt her immediately. “Warren,” I insist.
“What?”
I can’t stop staring at all the colors in her eyes.
“Call me Warren,” I murmur as I try to decide if her eyes are more green or golden.
“I don’t think that's appropriate,” she ventures cautiously.
I continue to look down into her hazel eyes, and I can't stop myself. I close the distance between us and place my hands on her waist.
Her eyes widen as I tell her huskily, “I don’t give a damn about what's appropriate, Faith. I want to hear my name dripping from your lips when you speak to me. I’m Warren to you. Do you understand me?”
She stares up at me, two pink blotches on her cheeks. She blinks and shakes her head. “Why me? Why did you give me this internship?”