When I turn to face him, his eyes show sympathy.
“You miss them a lot, don’t you?”
I look down at my keys in my hand before bringing my head back up and looking to the side.
“I do,” I say quietly. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mom with my whole heart, and I miss her every day, but my dad and I had a special bond.”
I grow quiet, thinking about my dad. It’s been five years since he died, but it feels like it was yesterday. The hurt hasn’t lessened; I’ve only learned how to cope with it better.
I push the depressing thoughts aside and turn back to Asher, forcing a smile. He has his hands in his pockets, watching me pensively.
“Thank you for dinner. I have to admit, I wasn’t looking forward to eating alone.”
“The pleasure was all mine. A beautiful woman such as yourself should never eat alone.”
I smile shyly at him, pleased at his compliment.
“Good night, Asher. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, Poppy.”
For some asinine reason, I don’t want to leave, but I force my body to turn and unlock my door. It was nice talking with Asher tonight. I saw a side of him I’ve never seen before. For the first time in a year, I actually felt comfortable around him, something I never thought would ever happen.
I slide into my seat and start my car. I wave good-bye to Asher one last time and watch a beautiful smile cross his face. It sends flutters straight to my stomach. I’m not under the illusion that things will be different between us. I mean, that would be stupid. But I can’t help the pleasure that flows through me at spending time with him. He was different tonight—still intense, but not overly so.
I look in my rearview mirror as I pull away and feel a twinge of disappointment when I no longer see him standing there.
Chapter Eight
Poppy
I’m finishing up a few last minute things before I leave work for the weekend. I’m exhausted, and am looking forward to two days off. The last couple days have been tough. I haven’t been sleeping and it’s starting to wear on me. I’ve woken up several times drenched in sweat with my body on fire with need.
Sterling came to visit that first night, tormenting me with his faceless figure. Each time he came close to revealing his face, I’d wake up. Frustration kept me awake for the rest of the night. I’ve chatted with him a few times over texts, but I haven’t heard his deep husky voice again since the night he called, and I desperately want to hear it again.
Surprising
ly, he never brought up my evening in the restaurant. I know he had to have seen me eating with Asher, and I wonder why he never asked about him. All I received from him that night by way of a text was a “Good night, Beautiful. Sweet dreams.” I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. That night I dreamed of him.
The next night I dreamed of Asher. We were once again in his office. I was looking out his floor to ceiling window when I felt him come up behind me. From the reflection in the glass, I saw his eyes focused solely on me.
He dipped his head, nipped my ear, and whispered, “Put your palms on the glass.”
My body shivered with the whispered words, and I did what I was told.
“Good girl,” he murmured. He settled his hands on my lower thighs, and started to slowly hike up my tight skirt. His hands felt warm and rough, and oh so good. I arched my back, thrusting my ass back, and moaned at the sensations he was causing to travel through my body.
Once my skirt was over my hips, showing off the tiny panties I was wearing, he flattened his front to my back. I felt the hard bulge of his cock rub against my ass. He wrapped one hand around my hair and pulled my head back until my eyes met his.
“You’re mine,” he growled, then took my lips in a bruising kiss.
I woke up to my body aching and nearly desperate for release. I was tempted to play with myself to relieve some of the pressure, but I didn’t. Having sexy dreams about my boss is one thing, but bringing myself to orgasm from the thought of him is entirely different. Instead, I got up and took a cold shower until my body settled down.
The next morning when I saw Eric at work, he apologized again for missing dinner and asked me when we could try again. I may have fibbed a little when I told him that I was busy for the next several nights, but would let him know when I was free. He couldn’t hide the disappointment my words caused. I felt awful, but it would be even more terrible to lead him on. I know I need to come up with a more solid answer and tell him I’m not interested, and I will. I just have to work up the courage. I hate hurting people’s feelings.
I lift my head from rummaging through my desk, looking for Ibuprofen, when Asher walks out of the conference room, along with Eric, Mr. Maverick, and several others. The morning after our dinner when I walked into his office for our daily morning meeting, I called him Mr. Knight. He looked at me sternly and insisted I call him Asher. The other night, calling him by his first name was one thing. We were out of work and having a personal dinner. But here at work, it just doesn’t seem right, even though his name still feels good coming from my lips.
He’s stopped and talked to me a few times over the last couple days; not saying much, just asking how my day was going. The first time he did it, I was shocked. Dinner was a fluke thing. We just happened to be in the same restaurant at the same time alone. His eyes twinkled while he waited for my answer.