by Zoey Derrick
“Good.” He smiles and we eat in silence. Though it’s not awkward, considering we just had sex, on his desk, in his office. I blush at the thought and I can’t stop my eyes from wandering over to it. It brings a smile to my face. He notices but doesn’t say anything. He can’t hide his little smirk when he realizes I keep looking at.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he mumbles under his breath.
I look at him in surprise. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had sex on your desk before?”
“Or my office.” He leans in closer. “Or my own bed.” His voice is so full of promise the desire I’d suppressed in the bathroom comes roaring back and I want to take him back to his house and christen his bed.
I lean in and whisper, “Mine either.”
“So whose bed do we break in first?”
“Yours,” I answer. “I want to see your place.”
“I’ll take you after dinner.”
I shiver rocks through me at the promise of tonight. Dinner and his place. Dinner, his place and Dyson between my legs.
I look at the clock on the microwave. “Is that accurate?” My eyes widen.
“It is,” he says, looking at me. I have about five minutes to get back to work. “I have to go.”
I stand and go to my jacket, pulling it on and pulling my hair out from underneath it and look at him. His eyes almost look sad. “What’s wrong?”
He gives me a sad smile. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I have to go back to work,” I tell him and he comes up to me and wraps me in a hug. I wrap my arms around his neck. “Three hours, baby.” I smile and press my lips to his. He tries to push the kiss deeper and I stop him. He pouts, literally. I kiss his pouty lip and leave him to his office as I go back to work.
The next three hours pass by surprisingly fast. I get a chance to meet the rest of my team I’ll be working with. They all seem really nice and very welcoming. As the day draws to a close, I’m glad the first day is over and I’m surprised by how exhausted I feel.
At three minutes to five, my phone chimes with a text from Dyson:
Meet me downstairs. If you come to my office again, we’ll never leave.
I smile at my phone a goofy, smitten smile.
“I know that look,” Shelly says and my eyes snap up to hers.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“Oh, stop. We’re not crazy phone Nazis around here,” she laughs. “Besides, judging from the look on your face, that’s got to be a new boyfriend or someone you’re hopelessly in love with.” She sits down in a chair across from my desk, yes, my own desk, but not my own office. I share the room with three other people, but they’re early birds so they’re out the door by four-thirty. I blush. “That’s what I thought,” she says and her smile is genuine as she sits up a little straighter. “So, how’d your first day go?” she asks. I smile wider.
“Really good. I’m really excited to be here. Everyone was really nice, friendly and welcoming. I think we’re going to get along well.”
“Good,” she says and she stands to leave. “See you tomorrow. Eight, right?”
“Yup, I’ll be here.”
“Have a good night.” She waves as she leaves my office, headed for hers. That was kind of odd, but I don’t dwell on it too much as I grab my bag from the drawer. I debate on swapping out my heels for my walking shoes. I flex my toes, checking to see how sore they are and realize they’re not that bad and I’m not walking home, so I grab my stuff, and throw my bag over my shoulder, lock up my desk and computer and head for the door.
“Finally.” I hear a voice; it’s distant but sounds a lot like Shelly.
“What are you talking about?” Fuck, I know that voice. It’s Dyson.
“You’ve come to take me to dinner,” Shelly says back to him and I want to roll my eyes. She sounds desperate.
“Uh, no. Not now, not ever.” I smile at his rejection of her.
“Oh, I’ll make you change your mind.” I put my finger in my mouth like I’m going to make myself puke.
“Shelly, I’m with someone.” My heart soars.
“No, you’re not.” She snorts a laugh. “Dyson Cole doesn’t date.” Her voice is high-pitched, like she’s some debutante working her way up the chain of men. Dyson’s words from this weekend come back to me- “The socialite housewife is not the kind of woman I want in my bed every night.” And that is exactly what she sounds like. I have no doubt Shelly has money, whether it’s been earned or given to her, I don’t know, but she reminds me of the type always looking for more.
“I do and I am. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“No, don’t go, I’m sorry, let me start over.” I shake my head. I should walk away, but it’s like a train wreck and I have to watch, or in this case, listen.
“No, end of discussion. Now knock this shit off or I’ll get your boss involved. I’m pretty sure you don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“You’re an ass,” Shelly snaps and I chuckle before ducking back into my office and hiding behind the door. The lights are off, so it’s dark in here and Dyson won’t be able to see me if he passes by my office.
“You have no idea,” Dyson replies to her. His voice is hard, cold, and I understand exactly what he’s trying to do. He’s letting me stake my claim on him without being there to do so and it makes me smile.
A few moments later someone breezes past my office door, deeper into the office and away from the elevators. I catch a glimpse of a dark suit, but it’s gone before I can even see who it is. Seeing my chance, I sneak around the door and toward the hallway.
“Did it work?” A voice I don’t recognize asks.
“No.” It’s Shelly who replies, she almost sounds dejected.
“What the fuck, Shelly?”
“Don’t yell…” A door clicks closed and I can no longer hear the conversation. It didn’t sound like it was coming from Shelly’s office, which is between my office and the elevators. Not knowing where they are exactly stops me from going in search of them. I don’t want to get caught snooping around.
I wait another minute or two, at least this way I can pretend like I forgot something if someone sees me. As I’m about to slip out of my office, my phone buzzes in my hand. It’s Dyson:
On my way down.
Shit. I move quickly toward the elevator. Shelly’s office door is open and her office is empty, it makes me wonder if Dyson was coming to get me when she accosted him with her unsuccessful proposal for dinner. I keep walking, quickly as to not get caught by Shelly and whoever else is still in the office. The receptionist is gone, most of the offices are shut up and dark. Five o’clock warriors – gone before the minute hand reaches twelve.
I press the down button and wait a moment before it dings. The doors slide open and the car is empty, except for one, lone, sexy as hell, dark suit wearing Dyson Cole, who is leaning his hand on the bar along the back wall. His other hand is in his pocket; his legs are crossed at the ankles. He looks like he’s just crawled out of a GQ Magazine spread. I stop breathing and stare. My jaw falls slack. He smirks, cocking his head and his hair falls down into his eye as he does it. The cover model image is complete. My sex heats. “Sex on legs,” I mutter under my breath without realizing I’m saying it out loud.
He shakes his head in disbelief before reaching out to stop the closing elevator doors. “Are you coming?” he asks.
“Not yet.” I smirk back at him.
“Well, well, my tigress is alive and well.” I smile at the nickname and his catching of my innuendo. “So, Ms. McKidd, shall we skip dinner?”
“Yes,” I breathe as the doors close and Dyson pounces on me, pressing me against the wall. He pulls my arms above my head and holds them in one hand, while his other hand slides up my body, cupping my breast and finding my nipple and rolling it between his fingers. My jacket, bra and camisole make his touch hard to feel but impossible to ignore.
“My place or yours?” he breathes against my lips.
“Mine,” I say hotly.
“Why yours? I thought you wanted to see my place.”
“No tours necessary.” I lean my head forward, trying to catch his lips. He hasn’t kissed me and yet he has me trussed up against the wall, and I need his lips. I need his kiss.
“Oh, there will be a tour.” He tilts his head, like he’s positioning me for a kiss. “It will just be my tongue touring your body.”
“Dyson,” I moan and the elevator slows to a stop. He releases me quickly, stepping back as if he hadn’t just had me pinned against the wall.
“Fuck.” His voice is breathy, hot, and my insides quiver. I try to find my brain enough to straighten myself out before the doors open.
Completely and totally unaffected. Yup, that’s me. Not.
Chapter 50
Dyson
“A Beautiful Mess” - Jason Mraz
“How many cars do you own?” she asks as she takes in the sleek black Nissan Murano in the parking garage.
“A few,” I tell her. “This is more my everyday car.”
“What happened to the Tesla?”
I smile at her. “Nothing, she’s at home. I haven’t gotten around to having a charging station installed here. Once I do, I’ll drive her more. You just got lucky that I happened to be driving her before.” I wink and open the door for her. She slides in, setting her bag between her legs and reaching for her seatbelt as I close the door.
My heart sank when the elevator came to a stop on Wellington’s floor. I panicked that it was Shelly trying to accost me again. When will that fucking woman get it through her head? Never. I shake my head and climb into the SUV. “What’s wrong?” she asks me.
“Nothing, I’m just irritated.”
“Did I do something?” she asks, her voice full of concern and I shake my head before pressing the ignition and starting the car. “Does it have anything to do with what happened a few minutes ago?”
My eyes shoot to hers and narrow in suspicion. “Spying on me?”
She snorts. “Hardly. I was leaving my office when I heard her. I didn’t think anything of it until I heard your voice and I froze. What were you doing there anyway?”
My mind races through the conversation. Shit. What did I say to Shelly? “I had a meeting with Wellington that ran over,” I explain.
“I’m not mad at you,” she clarifies for me. “In fact, I’m…” she pauses and I see the flush of her cheeks, “I feel championed, vindicated and like I actually have a claim on you, even if I couldn’t do it myself. Regardless of whether or not she knows you’re talking about me.” She turns to me, shock on her face. “Wait, you were talking about me, weren’t you?”
I watch as shock rounds out her eyes, then worry raises her eyebrows and then a huge smile spreads across her face as I’m about to go ballistic. She knows damn well I was talking about her. “Gotcha,” she teases and I relax. “She’s a bitch.”
“You can say that again. I’d had a meeting with Wellington, and when I was leaving she caught me on my way to the elevator.” I finally pull my eyes away from her and put the car in reverse, backing out of the parking stall.
“No, I mean it. Something is seriously up with her.”
“What do you mean?” I ask without looking over at her.
“After you left, someone else came down the hall before I could escape. They had on a dark suit. I thought I recognized the voice, but I wasn’t sure.”
“What did they say?” I ask her as I pull onto Central Avenue, headed north toward home.
“That’s it, I don’t really know. He asked her something about it working. ‘Did it work?’ I think. Then when she said no, she almost sounded disappointed. I wouldn’t have thought anymore about it except the fact that the guy got pissed and said something to the effect of ‘what the fuck, Shelly’ and she got defensive, told him to stop yelling, but then the door closed and cut off whatever was said after that. I’m not really sure where the sound was coming from, so I didn’t go looking for it.”
“Huh,” I say, but the wheels are turning in my head.
“You don’t think she’s trying to play you or something, do you?” she asks me, concern coloring her tone.
I bring my eyes to meet hers briefly before returning my focus to the busy road. “I don’t know. Maybe. Though I’m not entirely sure what she’d be playing me for.”
“Money? Sex? A leg up in the business world? You name it; she’d be able to find a motive.”
“She has money and I’m not sure how much higher in the business world she’s gonna get. She’s about to make partner at Wellington.”
“Oh,” she says, surprised.
“As for sex, I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone who didn’t want sex.”
“That’s because you’re a walking sex god.” She slaps her hand over her mouth and my lips twitch in a smile.
“Am I now?” I tease her right back.
“Yup,” she says through her hand, muffling it.
I burst out laughing, “Well, it’s good to know you think so.”
“Oh, I know I’m not the only one,” she tells me, then without prompting adds, “She’s jealous.”
“Who, Shelly?” I ask for clarification.
“No, Becca.” She turns back toward the front of the car, staring out the windshield.
“Why makes you say that?” I ask.
“She told me. That’s why she’s been a bitch the last week or so and why I haven’t seen her.”
“What exactly does she have to be jealous of?” I raise an eyebrow in wonder as I pull up to a stoplight and look over at her.
“You,” she says so matter of fact it makes me feel like I should know this already.
“What did I do?” I follow up, prompting her to talk a little more.
“In my opinion or in hers?”
“Why don’t we start with yours?”
“Then nothing. Well, not intentionally. Becca is the clingy type. Well, until she gets what she wants. She took your dancing with her seriously and she’s jealous because I captured your attention and not her.”
“I never even had eyes for her.”
She snorts a laugh, “I know that. I know you were just using her to rile me up. Which worked, by the way.”
I smirk at her and the light changes. “I know. My balls still hurt,” I tease.
“Want me to kiss them all better?”
Her candor throws me off guard and I let out a rushed breath at the idea of Ireland kissing my balls better. She bursts out laughing, “I’m sorry, I don’t even know where that came from.”
We both end up laughing for a minute as we draw closer to a choice. “Left or right?”
“What?”
“Which way, Ireland? Left or right?”
She smiles at me, then without prompting puts her hand on my thigh and slides it up until her fingers tickle along my cock. “Left,” she smirks and pulls her hand away.
“Fucking, tigress,” I grumble and step on the gas. Turning left, away from her apartment and toward mine.
Chapter 51
IRELAND
“Like A Wrecking Ball” - Eric Church
When we pull into Dyson’s complex parking lot, he points out Cami and Tristan’s house. “I knew they lived over here, just not exactly where,” I tell him and he smiles. The mention of Cami and Tristan reminds me I still need to apologize to Cami for kissing Tristan at the bar that night.
Dyson pulls into the garage next to his gorgeous Tesla and I can’t stop staring at it. If I had a car, I’d want one of those, though I’d never be able to afford it, so it’s – to use Reese’s favorite word – moot.
“You sure you want to be here?” Dyson asks me. “I don’t want to interrupt your plans or anything.” His wink is cute and full of promise.
“Too late, we’re already here.” I shrug. I can wait a few minutes to attack him, right?
“And we won’t be leaving. I’m going to order dinner in.”
I blush. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good.” He climbs out of the car and walks around to my side to help me out. I climb out then gesture for him to lead on. It’s his house after all.
There are three doors on the backside of the garage opposite where we pulled in. He picks the one in the middle. Then points to the one on the right. “That one leads to a different floor,” Is the explanation he offers me before he leads me down a flight of stairs and into a room that reminds me of the penthouse’s game room. It’s pretty much the full size of the townhouse. From the outside, these buildings look like apartments, but in our search to find someplace to live, Becca and I discovered these are not apartments but rather very expensive condos. “The party room,” he tells me.
“It doesn’t look any different than the penthouse game room.”
He snorts. “No, except there aren’t as many goodies down here as there are in New York.” I look around the room some more and on the far side is a wide patio door that leads out into a courtyard of sorts. It looks like the perfect place for warm winter nights. “Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me into a little hallway that turns back around and leads to a set of stairs. The stairs are longer than most, but shallow as they lead up to the next floor. The next floor is mostly doors. “This floor is mostly for house staff.”
“Oh, is Kathy here?”
He smiles, “No, she should be back tomorrow or Wednesday. She stays in New York to clean up after me and then spends some time with her family. Then she comes here.”
“Oh,” What else am I supposed to say to that?
“Byron’s here though.” I smile at the thought of the burly man who works for Dyson.
“Why doesn’t he drive you to work?”
“He usually does, but I gave him the day off.”
“So you could pick me up this morning?” I’m reminded of what seems like ages ago, but was really only this morning.