When I glanced to the left, I saw her purse on the table, but the chair was empty. My skin pebbled when I thought she could have left, but why would she leave without her purse? My eyes darted around the room, wall to wall, window to window, and that was when I saw her. Her back was to me, and my half erection hardened completely. My pants tented when my gaze landed on her waist. She was curvy.
Lucy was all woman. I wanted my hands to drift down her torso, and I’d bet anything my palms would fit perfectly in the crevice between her hips and ribcage. I didn’t tell her I was in the room, but she could feel me because I saw the way her shoulders tensed. Tension crackled in the air, and when I stepped closer, that was when the sun lit her hair, showing the fiery locks cascading down her shoulders in a wild blaze.
Her style was different; classy, but still very sexy and elegant. The zipper on the back of her yellow skirt teased me. I wanted to inch it down and slide my hands down her ass, gripping the plump globes I knew were hiding underneath.
Before I knew it, I was right behind her, a breath away from burying my nose in her hair. She jumped when she saw my reflection, the back of her shoulders brushing against my chest as she moved, sending sparks crackling between us. The surge of attraction was more intense than I thought possible.
She met my eyes in the glass, staring at our reflections. I was a foot and a few inches taller than her, but the mirror-image of us together was beautiful, something I wanted to remember.
“Mr. Stoneridge,” she said through jagged breaths, her hand almost cupping her throat. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.” I never wanted to scare her. I didn’t even remember walking up to her. I needed to cover my tracks though. The last thing I wanted her to feel was fear. “I was curious at what you were looking at. Your attention seemed focused.”
She broke eye contact with me to look out the window again, and I took a smaller step forward, wanting to feel her warmth again.
“The view,” Lucy said. “It’s beautiful. All these buildings. All these people. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“New York is one of a kind, but it’s the people that make it, not the buildings. New people come here all the time and make the city better.”
“You think so?” She turned around, and when I finally got the first glimpse of her face, I stumbled back. My ears rang from the blood boiling and rushing rapidly through my body. She was more stunning and breathtaking in person.
I literally couldn’t breathe.
“Yeah, I do.” We stared at each other longer than necessary, but how could I look away from such a face? Her jaw was delicate and small, her chin round, her eyes seemed too big for her face, being the main focal point. They were fucking beautiful— big and wide with long lashes. Her lips—fuck, her lips—I wanted to make them swollen with my kiss, and wet from my tongue.
She looked away first, and she blushed, the red tint made her freckles disappear. While I loved her flush, I already missed seeing the freckles. “Thank you for interviewing me. Um, Thank you.”
I made her nervous. I liked that.
“Let’s get started, shall we. Please, let’s sit down.” Lucy flanked the side of the table, skimming her fingers down the wood like she was stroking the spin of a book, bringing it to life, appreciating it. A simple move shouldn’t be so sexual, but all I could think about were those fingers skimming across me.
I wanted to be the subject of her appreciation.
I followed her around the table, watching her hips sway back and forth until she got back to her chair. I reached around her and pulled it out for her.
“Thank you, Mr. Stoneridge.”
“Please, call me Rick,” I said, brushing my fingers across her back as I pushed the chair closer to the table.
Her hands folded on the table, and she shook her head, her hair danced around her shoulders, catching rays of light from the sun beaming in the windows.
I sat down, curious about what she was thinking and stroked my tie out of habit. “What?”
“I don’t know why you like to go by Rick. I like your first name. It’s different, strong, and it makes a statement when it is said.”
That I had never heard before. I usually shut people down right away about my first name. I thought it sounded pretentious. I leaned across the table, setting her file down on the table. “And what does it say?”
“It’s powerful. I think it commands attention.”
“Hmmm,” I hummed, keeping one arm on the table and rest the other on the arm of the chair as I stroked the five o’clock shadow on my chin. “Who is interviewing who here?” I asked.
“I apologize. That was not my intention.”
I tried to read her the best I could. Besides her cheeks being flushed, she remained professional. Unlike me. My cock was hard underneath this table, standing straight and pressing right against my zipper until the metal dug into the sensitive flesh of my tip. Women always reacted to me in a way, they tease their fingers in th
eir mouth or twirl their hair, flirt with me in some way, but not Lucy.
And that only made me want her more. Her reluctance to want me, when I knew she did, made me want to reach over the table and show her it was okay to give in to her wants because I could give her exactly what she needed.