Page 44 of Forbidden You

“I don’t know.” I don’t want to quit, but my mind keeps wanting to explore the desire I feel for Bodi. I’m not going to give up an amazing job just so I can sleep with him, but I’m just curious if that’s the only reason he won’t give in to this.

To us.

It’s not my age, because if that was it, he wouldn’t have slept with me last summer.

I get that he’s my boss at the office, but he’s not in the four walls of his condo.

I can keep the two separate.

“Just watch the movie,” he orders, changing the subject.

The sigh that erupts from my lungs is long, and filled with annoyance.

I do as he says, hoping the tension in my organs settles down a little.

After a while, it does, but I can’t help finding myself trailing back to the man beside me every few minutes.

I came here for a job, a job I’m very grateful for. I had every intention of keeping this professional, but the more time I spend with him, the more I crave him.

Within twenty-four hours, I couldn’t deny to myself how much I wanted to feel his lips against mine. If we were just working together, I might have been able to pull it off, but staying in his guestroom, sharing every minute of my free time with him, it’s fucking with my head.

It makes me want to jump him every second of every day, and not giving in to that feeling becomes more impossible by the minute.

11

This is another one of my stupid ideas, but I can’t fucking help myself.

I strut out of my office, putting my sunglasses on with one hand while holding my keys and phone in the other.

“Let’s go, Kayla.”

I should avoid her during work hours. Every morning I tell myself that today I’m not going to find excuses to have these small moments with her and only interact with her when it’s really needed. And every single day ends in flirting, unnecessary touches, and a sour mood before I go to bed that’s fueled by my aching dick.

My sexual frustration is killing me and the muscles in my right arm are actually sore from jerking off while I think of her.

It seems ridiculous because it’s easy to scratch that itch, but I’m pretty sure that if I cross that line, I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to keep it between the four walls of my home and having sex at the office is a bad idea.

Even as fucking hot as it is.

From the corner of my eye, I catch her confused look as I keep a steady pace toward the elevator, then push the button and turn around.

“Where are we going?” Her head peeks above her screen.

Of course she’s not going to jump up and listen.

She wouldn’t be Kayla if she didn’t challenge me at least a little.

I just stare at her while she’s giving me a look filled with sass, waiting in anticipation for an answer. When I don’t utter a word, she folds her arms in front of her body, pursing her lips with attitude to compel me to tell her. The youth in her face shows me a rioting nineteen-year-old, but she holds her own like a thirty-year-old businesswoman.

It’s sexy.

And fucking disturbing what it makes me want to do to her.

The elevator dings and I shrug my shoulders.

“Suit yourself.” I casually turn around, stepping inside the cart while I hear her scramble to her feet, grabbing her bag and darting toward the closing doors.

As much as she’s fierce, and loves to raise hell for me every chance she gets, she’s also pretty predictable at times. Her curiosity always gets the best of her, and it’s my way to torture her like she’s torturing me by fucking existing.

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