Her words seemed to hit him full force, holding him momentarily transfixed, and taking the opportunity it gained her, Maria ignored the whirling in her head and brushed past him, walking into his office.
Taking a quick look around, she spied the missing file folder under a slew of documents not far from where she’d originally left it. Not knowing who’d moved it and at the moment not caring, she dug it out from the bottom of the pile and slipped it under the paperweight.
Without deigning to look at her boss again, who’d evidently shaken off his stupor and had followed her into his domain, she walked past him and out of his office, shutting the door with a snap.
****
The back of Garrett’s head hit the closed door.
His blood was pumping furiously, his goddamn cock was as hard as a rock.
That had been Too. Fucking. Close.
He’d touched her and she’d retaliated, using her feminine wiles on him for the first time since he’d actually met her. And fuck, she’d hit her mark. That look in her eyes. The softness of her voice. Son-of-a-bitch. It had been bad before, but now . . . shit, this was going to come back to haunt him. Every. Fucking. Night.
How could he have been such a dumbfuck? He couldn’t believe he’d actually touched her.
Touched her, hell. He’d reached out and grabbed her, and instead of going for an innocuous spot like a shoulder or a wrist, he’d just had to touch her soft, feminine flesh. Because he’d been dying to know what it felt like for the last . . . for-fucking-ever. Since before he’d even seen her. And since he’d come to Florida? Nothing but weeks on end where he’d fantasized about shutting and locking the outer office door, with only the two of them inside. Weeks where he’d dreamed about her all the time. Not daydreams, hell no. He wasn’t some kind of pussy. He never should have stopped jacking off; trying to prove that he was in control had only made matters worse. Because now he was dreaming about her all night long. Wet-fucking-dreams. Dreams that made him wake up from a perfectly good REM with his cum sticking to the sheets. Dreams that should have been somewhat satisfying but weren’t in the least.
Usually he could control his thoughts during the day. It was unmitigated hell, but usually, he could stay focused on work, on the business that he and his brothers had built from the ground up. But the nights . . . he had no control . . . he thought of her incessantly. He’d even tried a shot or two of bourbon to get her out of his head.
It hadn’t worked and he’d given up trying.
He knew that when he lay down at night, she’d creep into his subconscious and invade his mind and body whether he wanted it to happen or not. He’d see her face, and he’d get hard. He’d imagine her body naked, and he’d get even harder. He’d see the belligerent fire in her eyes as she would snap her mouth closed and refuse to take whatever bait he’d pitched out to her that day.
Then he’d toss and turn and give up on sleep and go take a cold shower. And more often than not, that wouldn’t work either and his suffering only made his imagination run more rampant. He’d see her slip to her knees in the shower stall. Yeah, Maria on her knees. There was no question that he wanted her kneeling in front of him . . . her eyes on his, her lush, reddened mouth open around his cock, taking him in, making him come, swallowing him.
Yeah, he wanted her on her knees, but not until he’d fucked her and fucked her good . . . and made her come in every goddamn position he could think of.
****
As had been her habit for at least four days a week during the last month, Maria left for the hotel gym at eight o’clock that evening, knowing good and well that Garrett would arrive to lift weights at around ten. She wanted to be long gone before he arrived: no way did she want to see him anymore than she was forced to, so she’d quickly figured out his schedule the very first week he’d arrived.
Adjusting hers to his had taken a bit of jostling, but it was more than worth it not to have to be in close contact with his glowering features anymore than necessary.
Holding her gym bag over her shoulder, she stepped into the service elevator and rode it down. She hated being confined, but usually, it was a quick trip, as the car went straight down, but tonight, for whatever reason, it stopped on the floor below hers. Knowing that only employees used the back elevator, she felt a tiny flurry of nerves, but quickly shot them down. What would be the odds . . .?