Page 186 of The Last Good Man

I also knew he must’ve had that ready for me.

No one can walk into a designer studio and pick up a dress like this in a few hours.

But what do I know?

As I put it on, straight on my body, I wanted to have him in the bedroom right then and there with his fingers pressed into the soft fabric.

I felt that sexy.

I wanted my mouth locked with his and his fingers up my dress before he spread my legs open, lifted me up, and fucked me up against the wall.

I wanted him, but he wasn’t there, so I carefully removed my dress, placed it back in the box, and deposited the gift in the closet before masturbating and falling asleep in my bed.

Sunday wasn’t much different, with one big exception.

I wanted him, not my fingers between my thighs.

And now…

Oh, now.

My head is buzzing with ideas about what I want and don’t want to do today.

I don’t want to deal with any drama, whether it's checking my phone every five minutes or confessing that it hurts like hell to put one foot in front of the other.

What I do want is to be focused and productive. Basically, my old self.

I also want to––

“Good morning,” Mina says, wearing a green dress and a dazzling smile while derailing my thoughts. “You look great today,” she says, joining me in the hallway as we both head to my office.

“Thank you. What is going on?” I say, gesturing to the people on the floor. “Am I late, or are they early?”

“Everybody’s early. We have several presentations today for the new clients.”

“Oh…The new clients. I remember that.”

Vaguely.

She looks at me, smiling, while I veer away and enter my office, a space with white walls, a glass desk, and a faux leather chair behind it.

Two armchairs, a coffee table, and shelves sit across from my desk.

Manhattan is all glitz and glamor as the sun paints the view in a thousand shades of gold.

“You know nothing about it,” she says, a sympathetic grin on her face. “And you’re not supposed to. The presentations have nothing to do with you.”

I drop my big red bag on my desk and unbutton my fitted scarlet blazer.

“Finally, something I don’t need to do,” I joke, my fingers drifting down my white pencil skirt accompanied by her gaze.

My look is finished with a black sleeveless blouse, ahugebow under my chin, and black pumps.

She studies me in silence.

“This outfit looks great on you.”

“Thank you,” I say, sliding into my chair.

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