Page 111 of One More Chapter

But then, as I’m shoving a pan of comfort food into the oven, I realize how great of a dad he’s going to be one day. Thatlittle red headed boy sneaks into the fantasy I allow myself for the twenty-five minutes that our dinner is in the oven. Without saying a word, I slide his plate of shoestring fries, nuggets, and enough ketchup and barbecue sauce to slather both, to the side of his work station.

I’m sifting through a few emails when there’s a knock on my office door. Swiveling my chair to face him, I am not prepared for the look on Anthony’s face.

It’s a mixture of intrigue, confusion, and tentative hope, like he’s sitting on the fence to all three, trying to decide where to tip over for a safe landing.

“You made me dinner?”

“Yeah. You were working so hard, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

His head tilts, and in that moment, I see him make the decision. He doesn’t tip into confusion or even hope, but a beaming light of gratitude. I can’t even move before he’s crossed the room in two giant strides and wrapped me into a bear hug.

“What is this?” I ask into his chest where my face is crushed.

“It’s a hug, boss. Just let it happen.”

I don’t know why it’s happening though. I threw some chicken nuggets into the oven because he was in the middle of one of his fixation stations, and I didn’t want the man to starve.

“Anthony?” I whisper, walking on eggshells of whatever this moment is. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He whispers it back, like he too doesn’t want to be the one to ruin the moment. “Yeah, Pen, it is.”

I don’t know who moves first. Whose hands find purchase and tug faces to the other. But I do know that Anthony and I are kissing. First in small, exploring pecks. Then, open mouths and sighs that are clinging to the edges of desperation. Idoknow that his tongue darts out first. Experimentally. Like he’s asking a question.

And when I answer back, the floodgates bust wide open.

forty-three

anthony

She made me dinner.In the middle of one of my hyper-focus freak outs. She made me the food I’ve been using as a comfort for the last week and a half to get through the last days of school before winter break, and I didn’t even ask.

The best part is, she’s never once made a big deal about adjusting. She knows when to pick up my bread crumbs and when to leave them down so I can find my way back to what I was doing. She knows to tell me that she’s leaving for work if she leaves first, and tells me what time it is in case I’m in the middle of something and not paying attention. She texts me when she leaves and checks in about dinner.

She left a bucket of cheeseballs on my bed last week.

I can’t outright tell the woman that I’m in love with her—not just yet. We’re still putting our stained glass pieces back together. But Icanshow her how much it means when she picks up on the little quirks that everyone else in my life has dubbed annoyances and fits them right into her everyday life.

I lift her from the chair, wrapping her legs around my waist where I’m already thickening. I don’t know where I thought we were going, but when Pen realizes what’s happening and reaches between us to stroke me through my sweatpants, I make the nextflat surface work. It just so happens to be her back against the office wall.

One of her hands shoves my pants to the ground while the other works around my cock to stroke me from base to tip.

“I’m not complaining, but…” she trails off when my mouth makes it to her throat. I press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up and down the delicate skin before finding a home on her pulse, where I bite a little less than gently. “What are…why?”

I chuckle against her throat at the way that her words and her strokes are getting choppy—all because I’ve got her pants yanked down around her thighs and my thumb teasing her entrance.

“Do,” I kiss her lips, “I need,” lick my tongue against the seam, “a reason?”

Looking into her eyes that are floating at half mast, she shakes her head against the wall, mussing up her hair.

“Good.”

I slide her underwear to the side and sink my finger in, finding her already wet, but not enough for how badly I need to take her against this wall. I tug at the V-neck of her shirt until her tits are bared to me, shoved up together by the cups of her bra and the neckline of her shirt. She threads one hand through my hair and guides me to her breast—as if she even needed to ask.

While I flutter, suck, and bite, she pushes off the wall to grind against my hand. I’m in the middle of squeezing her breasts together to get my mouth on more of her when she guides the head of my cock to her clit and starts playing with herself.

“You need to come, boss?” I take her by the wrist and pin both hands up above her head, holding her to the wall with my hips.

“Yes please,” she pants.

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