5

16

BODI

The elevator dings and I smile when I see a glimpse of her brown hair peeking out above her screen. I know she knows I’m here, but she keeps her attention on her computer. I actually expect her to rip a flirty comment from her throat and when she doesn’t, I round it, sitting down on the corner of her desk.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she drags out carefully, giving me a side glance.

“What are you doing?”

Incredulous, she turns her head toward me, her eyes automatically moving up and down my body. The smirk on my face makes her cheeks grow flush, and I let out a soft chuckle.

She’s cute when she’s not being a smartass. Even though I’m doing my best to not look at her like that. After we went home that night after visiting my dad, I dropped next to her on the couch, feeling more relaxed than I had felt in a long time. I’ve had late night calls from Peartree Park a few times now, and every time I come home anxious and on edge, unable to sleep. But this time, I came smiling through the door, feeling like I could handle it all, and when I climbed into bed, I wondered what was different this time.

The answer was simple; it was the brunette in my guestroom.

She makes me laugh. She is goofy and silly, and with her, I don’t seem to feel as moody and broody like I have since my father’s condition has started deteriorating.

Less worried.

“You’re wearing a jacket,” she states, referring to my short denim coat. A hoodie sits underneath it, and she eyes me as if she wants to wrap herself inside of me.

“It’s 30 degrees out.” I shrug.

“You have a car.”

“I walked.”

“What?” I frown. “Why?”

“Could use some fresh air. Are you cool with us walking back tonight?”

She answers with suspicion. “Sure.”

The truth is, I want her for myself. I want to talk to her, hang out with her without any of my employees lurking from behind their desks, and I don’t want to do it on my living room couch. As soon as we walk through the door of the apartment, I walk around with my hands in my pockets to make sure I don’t yank her into my bedroom. To make sure I don’t strip her naked and start peppering her skin with open-mouthed kisses. Or move my hands up and down her thighs, teasing her until I dip my finger…

“Bodi!”

“I’m sorry, what?” I blink a few times, pulling myself out of my daydream while I feel my dick tighten against the zipper of my jeans.

“Did you need anything else?” There is amusement traveling her pretty features and I can’t help but smile, not even embarrassed that she probably knows what I was thinking about.

“Oh, yeah. Right. I need you to throw a New Year’s reception.”

“It’s February,” she deadpans, blinking.

“I’m aware.”

“That’s like throwing a Christmas party on the 4th of July.”

I huff. “That’s not even remotely the same thing.”

“It totally is! Why would you still throw a New Year’s reception in February? I’m pretty sure it’s bad luck and all.” She twists her chair, putting her focus back on her screen.

“You totally just made that up.”

“I’m serious! It’s like you can’t say Happy New Year after the sixth of January, or breaking a mirror, walking underneath a ladder, seeing a black cat. It’s a very long list.”

“You believe in that crap?”

“Why wouldn’t I? There are more people dying on Friday the 13th than on any other day of the year. That’s solid proof, Aussie boy.”

I reach out with my foot, linking it underneath her chair to yank her closer, and it’s immediately followed by a screech from her because of the sudden movement.

Her hand lands on my knee as she tries to steady herself while hunger flashes in her blue eyes when our bodies touch. “What are you doing?”

“You are so full of shit.” I peer down at her with a wide grin.

I can see her swallow, and the air between us changes, electrifying, while at the same time, it feels like the walls are closing in around us.

“I’m not.” Her cockiness seems to have vanished and all that is left is an anticipation.

I dip my chin. “Why do you always answer my questions without a detour?”

A playful glint greets me. “Because I like to tease you?”

“Didn’t we agree on no flirting?” I whisper, lowering my head a little.

“Pfft, I threw that rule out the minute you made it.”

“What am I going to do with you, Kayla Lockheart?” I ask, while searching her eyes.

They tempt me every single day when she tells me good morning with a cup of coffee in her hand, even though she doesn’t have to. They tempt me when she steps into my car and I see the excitement of the roaring engine run through her eyes. They tempt me when I see how she stares at me when she thinks I’m not looking. They tempt me when she lets out a laugh that sounds like music to my ears.

She tempts me by existing and it’s driving me crazy.

“I know what you can do to me,” she murmurs through her lashes. “Want me to tell you in your office?”

My breath catches in my throat. I want to kiss her, and I have no clue how long I’ll be able to keep this up. But I manage to pull it together with a grunt.

“Plan the reception, Kayla.” I give her a slight push to put her chair back behind her computer before I get up.

A guffaw comes from her lips, and I give her scowl while I walk to my office.

“One of these days, McKay...” she calls at my back, then adds, “When do you want this party to happen?”

“This Friday.”

“This Friday?” she blurts, indignant. “Motherfuck–”

Her voice drowns out when I close the door behind me, unable to hold in the laugh that sits on my chest before I get to work.

Five minutes later.