6
KAYLA
Myeyesrakeover his athletic physique as I follow him back to the elevator he came out of five minutes ago. His green flannel shirt shows his broad shoulders, making my thighs clench. It’s the same flannel I’ve seen him in last summer, walking around like a sexy lumberjack. I always thought he looked amazing, but watching him walk around this office like he owns the place turns me the fuck on.
To be fair, he does own the place, but you wouldn’t know it if you don’t know him. He’s not your typical millionaire boss dressed in a three-piece suit. He looks hot as fuck in his casual wear, even sporting a pair of sneakers.
It surprises me.
For some reason, I thought I was going to see a different Bodi while working at KPI, but if the last few minutes are any indication, he’s exactly the same as how when we met.
Deliciously hot.
Irresistible as fuck.
Which is not necessarily a good thing for me, because my mind tells me to back off and treat him like the authority that he now is supposed to be to me, while my body wants to flirt him back between my legs.
Shut up, Kayla.
He gives me a side-eye before we step onto the elevator, standing side by side.
His arms are in front of his body, keeping them to himself, yet I can feel his energy overwhelming me. It’s coming in confusing waves, one second feeling that sexual tension washing over me in overload, while the other feels like he’s regretting offering me a job in the first place.
My mind goes over anything I can say as the silence fills every square inch of the elevator, but any question seems cheesy and when the doors pop open in the building’s garage, he flies out of it like his pants are on fire.
“Well, this is going great,” I mumble before I trail after him, dragging my suitcase behind me. The chilly air of the garage creates goosebumps on my arms as I watch him walk toward a red Dodge Charger. Appreciating the gorgeous car, I nod my head, then shoot him an approving look when he nudges his head for me to get in.
“I thought Jensen was the one appreciating American muscle?” I ask.
He pulls a face, a frown creasing his forehead as he grabs my suitcase from my hand. His fingers brush against mine, and automatically my lip tugs between my teeth when I feel the sweet tingle of our touch.
“If Jensen didn’t know me, he would still be driving German cars.”
“So, you are actually the one who appreciates the fine American engine and bodywork?”
He licks his lips, his eyes dropping to my mouth before he moves his gaze back up. There is a craving in his eyes that makes my heart beat faster as I do my best to keep a straight face. You know, keeping it strictly professional now that he’s my boss and all.
“Not all,” he explains, and his tone sounds somewhat seductive. “But I recognize a fine American body when I see it.” The double meaning of his words is clear, and I press my teeth into my lip until it hurts, trying to control the ache in my fingers. All I want to do is run them through his hair while I cover his mouth with mine.
He stares into my eyes, and I hold my breath. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” I ask, pushing out a breath.
“Bite your lip like that. It makes me wanna kiss you.”
I gasp at his confession, blinking, hoping he will. I want to be reminded of what he tastes like. How his tongue felt dancing against mine and how his touch felt like all my nerves came to life under his palm.
At first, I think he’s going to. He will close the distance and crash his mouth against mine, giving in to the undeniable chemistry we still seem to have. My vagina is purring at the thought alone.
But then his eyes darken and a rumble comes from his mouth, and my heart sinks to the floor.
“And our kissing days are over.” The words are firm, cold, leaving no room for discussion. Frankly, the harsh tone they are accompanied with hurts a little.
Like someone just dropped me in the North Pole with my damn bikini on.
It’s a once in a lifetime experience, but not a fun one.
I gasp in shock as he turns around, putting my suitcase in the back of his car. Pissed, I fold my arms in front of my body, a scowl written on my face.
“Ouch,” I say, popping my hip.
He pulls the door of the driver’s side open, giving me a straight face.
“What, Kayla? You want a job. I got you a job. I’m your boss now. We had fun. But we’re nothing more than a nice memory. You know that, right?”
My sarcastic chuckle echoes through the garage as I drag my feet to the passenger side, averting my gaze. “Yeah, I know, Mr. McKay. Doesn’t mean you have to be a dick about it, though.”