by Tessa Teevan
My palms are sweating and my heart races as I walk into Wellsley-Callahan. I’ve been thinking about seeing Sawyer again since the moment he walked out of my apartment, and I’m anxious to see how he’s going to act. I’m sure he’ll be professional since we’ll be at work, but the image of him closing his office door and pressing me up against it as he kisses me senseless passes through my mind and send butterflies deep into my belly. What the hell, Cheyenne? I think to myself, forcing any thoughts of Sawyer’s lips on mine out of my mind.
After stepping onto the elevator, I smooth my skirt and the doors start close when a briefcase slides between them, forcing the doors back open. My breath catches when I see Sawyer standing there in a black Armani suit complete with a light green tie and handkerchief set that perfectly match his eye color. I try to suppress a grin when I see that he skipped the product in his hair. He nods when he sees me and then at Bryan as well, his eyes narrowing when he sees how close we’re standing to each other in the crowded elevator.
When Bryan gets off on the third floor, Sawyer finally turns to me. “Have a good weekend, Ms. Hamilton?” he asks, and I’m assuming he’s being formal for the other elevator occupants.
“Actually, yes, Mr. Callahan. It was a fantastic weekend. I was able to catch up on my reading while still getting some work done,” I tell him, feeling like we’re almost role-playing—boss and dutiful assistant putting on a show for the rest of the employees before we’re locked in his office, where he lifts up my skirt and takes me on his desk. I wish.
Jesus, I really need to get laid. It’s been almost nine months since I’ve hooked up with anyone, and I blame the sudden rise in my libido on that, not the fact that I can’t stop thinking about Sawyer resting between my legs as he made love to me on the dock.
I feel his breath on my ear as he leans down. “What I wouldn’t give to be inside your… head, Ms. Hamilton. I do believe you’re blushing at whatever you’re thinking of,” he whispers.
I know he’s right as I can feel the heat spread across my cheeks, and I don’t respond, to which he just chuckles. When we finally reach his floor, I don’t follow as he heads to his office. Instead, I walk to the breakroom under the guise of getting coffee, but I’m really just trying to collect myself before I have to spend the rest of my day in a confined space with him, where I’ll undoubtedly be thinking about his kiss every time I smell the scent of his cologne or feel the closeness of his presence.
After making us both coffee, I feel calmed down enough to go into the office. I can’t help the smile as I remember the feel of his lips against my ear, and I wonder what things are going to be like after what happened on Friday night.
He’s on the phone when I enter his office, and he gestures for me to sit down. I place the coffee in front of him and sit, waiting for him to end the call. Once he does, he motions towards the coffee cup. “What’s this?” he asks, probably wondering why I’m bringing him coffee when I’ve never done it before.
“It’s coffee, Sawyer. I was getting myself a cup and thought I’d be a good little employee and bring you one as well. No big deal,” I tell him, shrugging my shoulders as I take a sip of my own coffee.
“I appreciate the gesture, Cheyenne, but I don’t drink the stuff.”
Wrinkling my eyebrows, I lean forward, setting my elbow on his desk. “You don’t drink coffee? But Marnie brings you a cup every morning and another one every day after lunch.” I’m not really sure why it matters if he drinks coffee, but it irritates me that I don’t know something about him when I thought that I was being kind, having noticed that he enjoyed a warm cup of coffee in the morning.
“No, I don’t drink coffee. I prefer hot tea. That’s what you see when Marnie brings in a mug. She usually steeps it for me so you never see the tea bag, but I assure you, I’m usually drinking either a peppermint tea or a chai one.”
Sitting back in my seat, I feel like an idiot at the dejection. It’s just coffee, so I shouldn’t care, but for some reason I do. “Oh. I guess I just figured it was coffee, but I’ll make sure to remember that you like tea instead if I’m ever feeling generous again.”
He grins at me and takes a sip of his coffee before he grimaces. “Seriously, how do you drink this shit?”
“It’s an acquired taste, I guess. I went through so many all-nighters at Berkeley that I just got used to it. Now I can’t imagine a single morning without at least two cups of coffee.”
He shakes his head and pushes the mug towards me. “Well, here’s your second cup.”
As I continue to sip my coffee, he opens up the file for the Kensington account and we start to discuss everything that we need to go over when we meet the clients this afternoon. Everything’s normal, and he doesn’t get too close to me like he did in the elevator. I hate that part of me is wishing he would.
The rest of the morning passes as it typically would—with an ease that I’ve come to expect from working with Sawyer. We get all our files together so that we can present the Kensington pitch, and he acts like a perfect gentleman the entire time. When Marnie pops her head in and says that she’s going to lunch, I hang back, waiting to see if he wants to eat together. Thoughts of him foregoing food and deciding to eat me on his desk pass through my mind, and I can feel my cheeks flush. God, I really need to have sex, to get some relief so that I’ll stop thinking about Sawyer naked.
I feel like an idiot as I stand here watching him click around on his computer. I’m about to turn around and leave the room when he finally looks up and notices me.
“Oh, Cheyenne, go ahead and go to lunch. If we meet back here at one, we’ll have time to go over the presentation one last time,” he says, absentmindedly dismissing me.
He’s acting like I’m just another employee and not the woman he had pressed up against the wall just three nights ago. I’m surprised to find that it’s actually pissing me off, even though I was the one who put a stop to that heated kiss. Right now I’m cursing myself for that, because in this moment, I want nothing more than his lips on mine, even though it seems like he wants me as far away as possible.
Nodding, I grab my purse and head towards the door. “I’ll just go see if Bryan’s free for lunch. I’ll see you in a bit,” I tell him, and I inwardly cheer when I see his jealous glare. I know Sawyer sees Bryan and me arriving at work together almost every morning, and I think he takes pleasure in keeping me late at night so I have to go home by myself. He’s never asked about the nature of our relationship, and I’m not sure if he thinks there’s anything going on there other than us being roommates. In fact, I’m not even sure he knows that much. I’ve never bothered to tell him, because if he wants to know, he’ll ask.
I’m about to leave the office when I hear him clear his throat. “On second thought, why don’t you meet me back here by 12:30? There are a couple of things in the report that I’d like to discuss further before the Kensington meeting.”
“Sure thing, boss,” I throw at him and exit the office without another word.
AT THE CONCLUSION OF the meeting, I excuse myself to use the restroom. It was successful, and I’m pretty sure the client is going to choose our firm, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the pitch or Sawyer’s ass. Turns out that the dirty old man Bryan assumed would be there was instead Ms. Kensington, a young blond bombshell who couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her flirting, while subtle, was obvious to me, and it grated my nerves every time she reached across the table to place her hand on his arm or his own hand. A ridiculous feeling of ownership surged within me, and I was this close to seeing red. I had to get out of there before I jumped across the table hyena style and ripped her extensions out. It didn’t help that Sawyer treated me with the utmost professional respect, going so far as to call me Ms. Hamilton, addressing me only when necessary. If he hadn’t looked so damn good and commanding in that suit, catching the attention of every eye in the room, I’d have been ready to choke him as well.
Standing in front of the mirror, I shake my h
ead at my reflection. The extra makeup, the sexy hair—this isn’t me. Taking a paper towel and wetting it, I wipe off the red lipstick and sigh with relief when my lips are bare. I’m not sure why I thought I needed to dress myself up any for his benefit. Back then, I wore nothing but a sun-kissed glow from all the days of laying out by the lake. My mother always pushed blushes, powders, and eye shadows at me, and she never left the house without her signature red lipstick. Instead of letting her give me a makeover, I snubbed the stuff and refused to wear it until Cori showed me that less is more. I’ve stuck to a simple mineral powder and mascara and have been fine with that ever since.
I’m about to exit the bathroom when the stall door behind me opens and Blonde Kensington walks out. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and as she turns the faucet on, I hear her Southern drawl.
“Honey, I don’t know how you do it,” she tells me, and I look at her, confused.
“Do what?”
She scoffs as if I should know exactly what she means. “Work with Sawyer Callahan. I’d say he’s sex on a stick, but that term is way too overused. He’s absolutely gorgeous,” she gushes as she primps her hair and reapplies a shimmery pink lip gloss.
Sex on a stick is nowhere near how I’d describe Sawyer. Who wants sex on a stick? That phrase makes me think of a pencil dick, and nothing about that turns me on. I’ve had experience with less than well-endowed men, and while the whole “motion of the ocean” phrase might apply, I’ve never quite been fully satisfied when I haven’t, well, been fully filled.
“Mr. Callahan is a professional. I’m sure many women find him attractive, but it doesn’t affect the work environment,” I tell her, sounding like a human resources robot with a sign that flashes “don’t screw your boss!”
“You’re better than me. I’d be salivatin’ over that man every single day. I wouldn’t mind working long hours if he was my boss. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he was responding to my little flirtations. I know this is probably wrong of me to ask. I just can’t help myself. Is he seeing anyone?”
My breath catches at her question, and thoughts of her and Sawyer together, going on dates, and exchanging soft touches roll through my mind, and unnaturally, my blood boils at the thought of her asking about his relationship status. I tell myself to calm down even though I want to tell her that Sawyer’s in an extremely committed relationship, gay, or celibate. Anything to keep her greedy claws away from him. My conscience takes over. Don’t say a word, Cheyenne. You don’t know his relationship status, Cheyenne. Tell her he loves men, Cheyenne.
The war in my mind continues to rage until I hear her clear her throat as she turns towards me. I plaster on a fake-as-hell grin. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ms. Kensington. I’m not entirely positive, as he’s a very private man, but I do believe Mr. Callahan is in a relationship, and from what I gather, it’s pretty serious.” I want to hate myself right now, but I can’t. The look of utter disappointment on he face sends a jolt of glee through my body, and I just can’t help myself. “In fact, between us girls, I saw that he had an appointment at Tiffany’s on his calendar. You know what that means!”
Her eyes fall, and while I know I should feel bad, I don’t. “Oh, well, that’s a bummer. I swear, all the good men in Atlanta are taken. I had to ask though,” she says, playing it off.
We both exit the bathroom and head back into the conference room, where she acts a little more coolly towards Sawyer. The rest of the afternoon goes off without a hitch, and I have no animalistic jealousy rages flowing through me. When the Kensington Barbie and her lackeys stand up to go, I don’t miss the way she crosses around the room towards Sawyer. She leans in, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek before handing him a card.
“If you ever find yourself single, give me a call,” she croons, her lips lingering on his skin. When she pulls back, I can see the confused look on his face. I’m trying not to snicker, but he catches me anyway.
He lifts his brow at me, letting me know he’s caught me at my own game. “Ms. Kensington, I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, but I can assure you, I’m not attached,” he says, grinning down at her, and I can feel the heat rising to my face. “However, company protocol prohibits me from socializing with clients,” he says, backing away from her, his eyes still transfixed on mine.
Breathless, she pulls away from him, smoothing down her skirt, and I can’t help but glare. She turns to face me and I’m quick to place a fake smile on my face, shrugging when she narrows her eyes. Oops. I’m definitely caught, and suddenly, I berate myself, pissed that I let my unexamined feelings for Sawyer cause me to act like a jealous fifteen-year-old girl. This is a client and I acted extremely unprofessionally. I knew he wouldn’t go for her, at least not while we’re working together, but my claws came out anyway.
I sigh with relief once the door closes behind them. Gathering up my things, I start towards the door when I feel my arm being pulled. I find myself pressed up against the conference table with Sawyer’s hands gripping my hips.
“Bathroom gossip, Ms. Hamilton?” he asks, an eyebrow cocked up, a cocky grin on his face. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”
My heart’s racing as his thumbs begin to rub small circles on my body, and I’m wishing he’d slip his hands underneath my shirt for skin-on-skin contact. Steeling my chin, I meet his eyes. “I was just trying to save her professional dignity. I knew what your response would be due to company policy and I didn’t want her to embarrass herself.”
I know he doesn’t buy my answer the moment his grin turns wicked. “That’s very noble of you. So it wasn’t jealousy that had you telling Ms. Kensington that I was in a committed relationship?”
I can feel my cheeks turn pink as I flush with embarrassment. “No, no, not at all,” I say a little too quickly, shaking my head like an idiot.
That stupid, idiotic, sexy-as-hell grin widens, and I know, once again, that I’m caught. “You are so full of shit, Cheyenne. Admit it. You were jealous. You couldn’t stand the thought of me with another woman. Of her hands on my skin. Her lips on my neck. The thought of me pressing her up against the wall the way I did with you on Friday drove you absolutely fucking crazy, so you made up some bullshit story about my having a woman. So who was your fictional woman for me? Was it you, pretty girl? In your mind, for one split second, was I yours?”
Even after all this time apart, it’s still uncanny the way he can read me. The way his eyes are penetrating my gaze is unnerving, and part of me wishes I could just admit it, scream yes, and throw my arms around him so he can take me right here on this table. The other part of me, the one I want to stab right now, remembers his words about company policy, and I know it’s not just limited to clients.
I have to tear my eyes away from him before I can answer. “No, Sawyer. You haven’t been mine for a really long time.”
He inhales sharply, and I miss his closeness the moment he moves away from me. Without another word, he packs up his briefcase and walks towards the door. I’m frozen, unable to move as I watch him go. The quick change from cocky playboy to pissed-off boss throws me off, and suddenly I’m not sure how much longer we can continue this cat and mouse game.
I think he’s about to leave when he turns back towards me. His eyes have a sadness to them, and it kills me knowing that I’m the one who’s causing it. “No, Cheyenne, I guess I haven’t been. And whose fault is that?”
Without another word, he opens the door and exits the room. I sink down into a chair, and for the first time in almost six years, I allow myself to remember the day I fell for him and try to forget the day I ripped us apart.
July 2008
AFTER THAT DAY AT the lake when I let my guard down and finally let Sawyer explore my body, I raced home and browsed the Internet and read every ‘How to Please Your Man’ and ‘Guide to Giving the Best Blowjob’ article I could find. After reading all about the different tongue techniques, hand placements, and the pros and cons of ass play, I began to
feel overwhelmed. As it turned out, I didn’t need Internet articles telling me what to do. Sawyer ended up being the best teacher, and we spent the next few weeks exploring each other every chance we got. He was tentative at first, but I think I left him so hot and bothered that day on the lake that it didn’t take much to get him to give in.
At first I thought it’d be weird, having him tell me exactly what he liked. Instead, it was thrilling. Listening to him give me commands was such a turn-on, and it wasn’t long before I felt like a blowjob-giving aficionado.
He hasn’t mentioned my request to lose my virginity, and I haven’t brought it up again. I only have a couple of weeks left in Shiloh Grove, and while I’m excited to go away to school, I’m already dreading leaving him. I have no idea how he did it, but he got inside my heart, dug in deep, and I’m not sure how I’m going to let him go—or if I’m even going to be able to. At the beginning of this summer, I was counting down the days until I was out of this town. Now, I’m trying to resist falling asleep at night because that’s one less day I have with Sawyer. It figures that I’d meet someone who makes me feel more than I have in ten years, just to have to say goodbye after three months. That’s what I feel like I’m always doing with the ones I love—saying goodbye.
The thought is too much to bear, and I decide that lying on the couch lost in my thoughts isn’t doing anything to help my mood. Getting up from the couch, I head to my room to get a head start on packing. I’m lost in the playlist on my iPod when all of a sudden, my door bursts open, and I jump.
“Holy shit! You scared the hell outta me!” I yell when I see Mama standing in front of me. I haven’t heard from her in almost a month, and I have no idea where she’s been. To be honest, I stopped caring, and my heart sinks, knowing that my summer is about to change. No more late nights wrapped up with Sawyer on the couch. None of his sneaking in my window, even though he has a key. He thought it was romantic, climbing in, and I relished the nights I woke with him beside me. As disappointed as I was at the beginning of the summer when she decided to abandon me, I’m more disappointed that she’s shown back up.