Boy Trouble

“The girl he met earlier in the week,” she whispers.

“Yeah, so I was going to head down and have dinner alone. Why don’t you join me?”

“Is that a good idea?” she asks, the door starting to close behind her.

I stick out my hand and stop it from closing all the way. “Why not? You’re my friend, right?”

“I am?” she asks, looking a little surprised by my question.

“Sure you are. Come on, Bob. Everyone’s gotta eat, right? You might as well eat a free steak dinner,” I say, throwing in the old nickname I used to say to get under her skin. Mostly I use it to keep myself in check that this is not a date, even though my cock seems to be a little too eager at the idea.

She flushes with her annoyance, which makes me smile. “Bob? Really? And here I thought you had matured in the last decade,” she sasses, stepping onto the elevator and turning to face me. Her blue skirt hugs her thighs and reveals shapely, toned legs. Her white dress shirt is still crisp and dips just low enough to catch a peek at the swells of her breasts. But it’s the red nail polish peeking out from her open-toed heels that have me growing even harder. All I can think about is seeing those red toes wrapped around my waist as I thrust into her wet, tight pussy.

I step inside the elevator and press the down button. Her scent envelops and teases me in all the right ways. I lean against the back wall but keep my eyes focused on the falling numbers. “Oh, I’ve matured, Bob. I’ve matured in all the best ways.”

I glance over to see her swallow hard, which makes me grin.

We reach the bottom floor, and the door opens with a chime. Marley steps forward as I place a hand on her lower back, guiding her through the hall and toward the restaurant. There’s a small group gathered just outside, as if waiting for their table. When the hostess sees me coming, she straightens and pastes on her best smile. “Good evening, Mr. Morrison.”

“Good evening. I was hoping you’d have a table for two available.”

“Of course!” she insists, typing on the screen in front of her. “We have a private table for two in the back almost ready. Give us two minutes to finish preparing it and I’ll seat you.”

“Perfect,” I tell her, following beside Marley as she moves aside and out of the way.

Neither of us says a word for several long seconds. When her eyes glance up and meet mine, I see a plethora of emotions crossing those green eyes. Nervousness, anxiousness, innocence, excitement, and even bewilderment.

But there’s something else I see written as clear as day. Something she tries to hide unsuccessfully.

Lust.

Her green eyes are dilated, her breath hitching as I take in the way her chest moves when she inhales. She licks her lips and bites down on the bottom one. My groan is low and deep and rumbles in my chest, and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess to not pull her into my arms right now and kiss her. Her eyes widen as if she realizes what I’m struggling with, her body swaying into my touch just the slightest. I hold my hand on her back, but it causes me physical pain not to touch her more.

Everywhere.

I want to touch her everywhere.

Marley Smith is mine.

She just doesn’t know it.

Chapter 8

Marley

The heat of his hand sears my back. My entire body is on alert as his warmth seeps into my skin through my clothes. I don’t understand what’s happening, but the look in his eyes, it’s full of want and desire, and he’s watching me.

“Your server will be right with you, Mr. Morrison,” the hostess says, placing two menus on the small table in the back of the restaurant and walking away.

“Allow me,” Eli’s deep voice whispers next to my ear.

I nod because that’s all I’m capable of, waiting for him to pull my chair out for me. His hands land on my shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze before he moves to take the seat across from me.

“You look beautiful,” he says huskily.

I look down at the plain white dress shirt and blue skirt I put on this morning. I intentionally tried to look like the boring corporate American working girl. The tension between us this week has been unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I wore a lace shirt earlier in the week, and the look he gave me, the way his eyes roamed over my upper body during our entire meeting, I decided playing it safe… boring from now on is the way to go.

“You don’t have to use your charm, Mr. Morrison. I already agreed to join you.” I try to sound professional and aloof, but I know my reply is anything but. It’s the tremble in my voice and the way I have to shift in my seat to ward off the desire just a look from him creates deep within.