Page 12 of A Grinchmas Delight

Dayra comes barreling through with a tote in her arms, waddling as she tries to see where she’s going around the large object. I huff and stand up.

“Here, let me carry that.”

Dayra, never stopping, looks back at me over her shoulder for a beat then looks ahead around the tote. “I got it.”

She rounds the corner and takes off down the long hallway that leads to the stairwell, walking faster than she was before she saw me.

I walk behind her, trying to catch up with her before she tries to carry this thing down the stairs.

“You’ve already had one workplace incident, Dayra. Just give me the damn tote, already,” I demand.

She stops at the door and is fumbling to try and open it. Finally, I pluck the tote out of her hands and hold it above my head. She glares at me, her brows furrowed, but she doesn’t protest. She simply opens the door and steps inside, holding it open for me. I carry the tote down the stairs and place it in the storage closet with Dayra following closely behind me. I close the door to the storage closet and turn around, nearly bumping into her.

“Am I incompetent on how to put away a tote?” I ask.

“I just wanted to make sure the Grinch wasn’t trying to steal Christmas,” she says, planting her hands on her hips.

I take a step closer to her, our bodies so close that I can feel the heat radiating off of her. The fire in her eyes stirs something deep in my soul and I want to throw gasoline on it and watch it burn.

“I’m anything but a thief,” I grit out.

She stares up at me and I step toward her again. This time she backs up. I keep walking until her back is against the wall beneath the staircase. We’re alone, under the cover of the stairs, in the shadows. This feels…forbidden. The forbidden fruit, dangling just above my head. Or, just below my lips.

I run my tongue over my bottom lip and her eyes watch my every move, staring heavily at my mouth. I place a finger beneath her chin and guide her eyes to mine.

She pulls her lip between her teeth, and I can’t help but gaze down at the cleavage popping out of her button up shirt. The tote must have knocked a button off because her bra is visible beneath the thin white fabric.

“I—I wasn’t saying…” she trails off, her hand reaching up to touch my face. She runs her finger over my bottom lip, bending it down and then letting it pop back into place.

“I don’ttakeanything that doesn’t want to betaken.”

I lean in impossibly close, our lips so close if I move an inch, I’ll be kissing her. The temptation is too much and I don’t know how much longer I can sit here and pretend that my hard cock isn’t throbbing for the girl that gets under my skin like no one else.

I place my hand on her cheek, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her eyes close beneath my touch and she leans into my hand. The sound of a door slamming above us in the stairwell has us separating so quickly that my raging hard on is instantly a mid-chubby.

Breathless, we stand there staring at each other. We’re hidden beneath the stairs but if they go to that same storage closet and not out the door that leads outside, I’m not sure what exactly we’re going to say. Because what the fuck are we even doing?

I press a finger over my lips and step closer to her, pressing my body flush against hers. She nods and turns her head to the side, giving me the most beautiful view of her side profile and her neck. I resist the urge to run my tongue across the thumping artery, giving away how fast her heart is beating. I’m not sure if it’s adrenaline or fear or maybe a combination of both.

The door that leads outside opens and slams shut. I step back and Dayra exhales loudly.

I stare at her for a beat, then walk away, taking the stairs two at a time. What the fuck am I thinking? Do I want a sexual harassment case? Because that…THATis how you get a sexual harassment case. I burst through the door at the top of the stairs and beeline to my office. I close the door and sit at my desk, trying to gain my composure. I have never acted inappropriately with an employee before in mylife.

I’m beside myself at my own lack of self-control. What if we had been caught? That was way too out in the open. I wasseconds away from losing it, from giving in to the temptation of the forbidden fruit that was dangling so dangerously close to my lips. I know why Eve bit that apple. Temptation is a bitch.

I look over my workload and shoot a text to Mark letting him know I’m leaving early today. I make up an excuse about not feeling well and thinking it may be food poisoning. It isn’t. It’s fucking Dayra, but I can’t very well tell him that.

I leave everything sitting on my desk, right where it was.

I need to put some space between us. I need to clear my head and figure out what the fuck is wrong with me. Instead of heading home, I head straight to Scotty’s Place. It takes me a solid hour to get there and it’s quiet for a Thursday, especially the Thursday the week before Christmas.

There are a few regulars sitting at the bar, a few of the old timers that I recognize from my days here, but aside from that, there are myself, the bartender, and two guys around my age shooting pool and drinking beer.

Perfect. A quiet place to have a few drinks and try and gather my thoughts. Images of Dayra beneath the stairwell flutter through my mind in quick flashes. Her lips. Her breath hot on my mouth. The way her skin both burned me and sent chills down my spine.

I sit down at the bar and find the same bartender from a few weeks ago is behind the bar. Dolly, I think it was.

“What can I get ya?” She asks, resting her hands on the bar in front of me. Her short brown ponytail is high on her head and she’s wearing a Scotty’s Place T-shirt with a pair of black shorts. She’s mid-sized and has a pretty smile, despite her canine being smaller than the rest of her teeth.

---