Stella grins, stepping inside my office and closing the door behind her. “I know. It’s bad, but at least it gets better over time.”
“If you say so.”
She folds her arms and arches a brow. “That was your first, then?”
I nod. No escaping this conversation. In fact, I was prepared. “Yeah. I’d done the bikini wax before, but this was a whole new level of torture. Poor June—I really thought I might kick her a couple of times.”
Stella bites back a grin. “She’s a pro. Definitely knows how to block those reflexive kicks.”
I shake my head. “At least it wasn’t as awkward as I expected.”
“Yeah, she makes it feel totally normal.” She studies me for a moment, and I do a mental countdown toward the question I’ve been waiting for since yesterday morning. “So . . . now that I’m talking to you as your friend and not a representative of The Orchid, I can ask . . . who was it for?”
There it is. “It was for me, of course.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah? Because I don’t know many women who put themselves through that when no one’s going to be looking at their smooth hoo-ha.”
I shrug. “I’m thinking about dating again.”
She quirks a brow. “Dating or fucking?”
I turn up my palms as if to say, There’s a difference?
“Well, get it, girl.”
My phone buzzes on my desk, and when I flip it over, Dean’s name flashes on the screen.
“You have work to do,” Stella says, opening the door again. “I’ll get out of your way.” She points at me as she backs out. “But when you date again, I want to know all the details.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I wait until she pulls the door closed behind her before I read the text.
Dean: I’ve given this more thought, and I think we need to figure out what your kinks are.
I bite my bottom lip.
Abbi: What if I don’t have any kinks?
Dean: Everyone has kinks. Some are just more taboo than others.
Outside my office door, I hear the hustle and bustle of my staff preparing for the dinner rush. Doing this at work feels scandalous in the best way.
Abbi: What are YOUR kinks?
I don’t think I breathe in the time it takes him to reply. The dots in the bubble bounce and then stop three times before his reply comes through.
Dean: I like everything, honestly, but I have a particular fondness for having sex in places I shouldn’t.
I swallow hard and try to think of the perfect reply. I don’t know why, but I don’t want this conversation to end yet.
Abbi: Like where?
Dean: So, here’s the deal . . . I’m usually an open book, and if you’d asked me that a few weeks ago, I probably would’ve rambled off a bunch of examples. But now that you’re not just my friend, I don’t want to talk about what I did with other women.
Abbi: Not just your friend? What am I?
Dean: You’re the woman I’m trying to get naked. And instead of scaring you off with my exploits, I’d much rather tell you what I’d like to do with you.
I glance at my office door to make sure I’m alone then muster all my courage to type just two little words.
Abbi: Tell me.
Dean: If I were in that office with you right now, I’d have you sit on your desk and spread your legs. I’d be really fucking grateful that you wore a skirt to work today, because it’d be easy for me to stroke you through your panties. I’d play with you until they were drenched and you were begging in my ear.
I shift in my seat, suddenly a little achy and uncomfortable between my legs. This is crazy. Dean saying these things to me is crazy. Me not shutting him down is crazy. But dear Lord, give me more crazy.
Abbi: What if I didn’t wear a skirt?
Dean: I can work with that. I know you won’t let me take off your clothes at work, so I’d have to work you through your pants. But you’d have to be quiet. There are people on the other side of that door, and I know you’d be embarrassed if they heard you moaning.
Dean: I might whisper in your ear, tell you how much I like feeling you squirm against my hand, tell you that when I take you out this weekend, I want you in a skirt. Because if you were in a skirt right now, I’d bend you over your desk and fuck you.
I read that message at least five times. I like the picture he’s painting for me. I don’t know if I’d be able to turn off my rational brain enough in real life to ever let him do what he’s describing, but the words are hot all on their own.
Dean: You still with me?