29. That’s What He Said
Sophie
Ishift in my chair, squeezing my thighs together to ease the ache in my core. My underwear is fucking drenched, and my entire body is hot and flushed.
It was the best God damn kiss…
My heartrate spikes as Jared’s words ring in my ears for the eleventy-billionth time since he uttered them. He didn’t mean to say it. I know he didn’t.
But he did say it, and I can’t seem to tamp down the reaction those words elicited in me. My mind immediately conjured a vision of him rounding his desk and pulling me out of my chair. My body slamming into his as his mouth sealed to mine. His tongue dancing with mine before moving on to explore the rest of my skin.
The vision was so vivid, I spent the rest of the meal trying not to let him see me squirm in my chair as I tried to tamp down my desire. I rushed out of there as soon as I could, but being out here, away from him, has done little to curb the ache deep inside me.
I fight the urge to turn and try to look through the window between us. I know I’ll see nothing but my own reflection. And I honestly don’t want to know what I look like right now. Is he watching me? Can he tell I’m fighting the urge to stride back in there and straddle his lap?
Fuck. What is wrong with me? I can’t stand him.
I blow a long breath out between my lips as a groan rumbles in my chest. As much as I try to tell myself I hate the man, it’s not exactly true, anymore. Okay, it’s not true at all.
I’m self-aware enough to know that our rocky beginning was partly my fault. Fuck, if I’m being honest, I might as well admit it––it was mostly my fault. In my panic over losing that painting and my job, I was an asshole to Jared. And his dickish behavior was in response to my own shit attitude.
He took care of me when I passed out drunk. He made me breakfast. He was kind to me, and he even made me laugh. Without all the aggression––passive, or otherwise––between us, we actually had a good time together.
And knowing my simple kiss of gratitude affected him as much as it had me? I’m so fucked.
Things were so much simpler when we hated each other. I don’t know how to handle nice Jared. This shift in our relationship is throwing everything off-kilter, including my libido. So, what now? Do I want to fuck my boss?
If someone had asked me that last week, I probably would’ve fallen over, I was laughing so hard. But now, as I valiantly attempt to stop imagining him taking me like the hero in some smutty romance novel, I have to admit I do want him. But only to myself. And maybe Ava and Zoey.
Grabbing my phone, I pull up our group chat.
Me: Jared invited me to have lunch with him in his office. We had Chinese, and he said the peck I gave him on the cheek was “the best kiss” before cutting himself off. And now I can’t stop thinking about kissing him, for real.
I already gave them all the details about waking up at his house yesterday, breakfast, and that impulsive kiss on the cheek. They’d given me so much shit about wussing out and not laying a real one on him. I assured them it meant nothing, but that was a lie.
It was a white flag. A peace offering. And apparently, a bridge over the turbulent waters of our explosive relationship.
Explosive. I wonder if it would be like that in bed…
My phone chimes multiple times, pulling me from the dangerous thought.
Ava: Oh, he wants you. I say go for it.
Zoey: If a peck on the cheek is the best kiss he’s had in a while, he needs you, girl. It’s your civic duty to end his drought.
Ava: Don’t forget to let us know if he growls!
Me: I can’t just walk into his office and kiss him.
Ava: Why not?
Me: Uh…he’s my boss? If I’m misreading the situation, I could get fired, at the very least. Shit, he could sue me for sexual harassment.
Zoey: Sophie. He found out you were drunk and sped to the bar to make sure you were safe. He took you home, let you sleep in his bed, and made you breakfast with no strings attached. He wants you.
Me: Some might say his lack of making a move proved otherwise.
Ava: So, you’d rather him take advantage of you when you’re drunk?