Page 10 of Lovesick

My breath caught. I froze, and I stared at his name until the breath I was holding was forced out of my lungs.

No subject.

Did he accidentally send me an email?

I was too nervous to open it, but curiosity took the better of me.

I clicked on the notification and the email popped up on my screen.

Emilia.

I expected you to still be at the office after my meeting at five.

That’s it?

My name and one sentence?

I furrowed my brows, wondering if there was more to it. Had he meant to write something more? God, why did I even care? This was unnecessary. What was he on about?

I stared at the email a little while longer before I typed a reply.

To: Dean Rockwell

Subject: (no subject)

Dear Mr. Rockwell,

I didn’t know I was meant to do extra hours today. Is it something important you needed me for?

Kind regards,

Emilia Hart

I knew he would be annoyed with my reply, but I didn’t care. He wasn’t here to boss me around anyway, and he also couldn’t stare at me with his stupidly intense eyes. I curled my fingers into fists and waited for him to send another email. I knew he would respond. I felt it.

And I was right.

Only a few short minutes later, another email appeared in my mailbox.

From: Dean Rockwell

Subject: Drop the formalities

I needed you, and you know in what way.

My clit throbbed, betraying my mind in the worst possible way. I didn’t want to feel this way. Didn’t want him to take control over my body when we weren’t even in the same room. But for some stupid reason, he had that effect on me.

I pressed my thighs together, gripping the sides of my laptop tight as I leaned back on my couch. I didn’t want to respond. Maybe, if I just stopped replying, he would stop too.

That was wishful thinking…or maybe, internally, I was hoping he would send me another email. God, I needed help. A therapist, maybe. Or just simply a tougher heart that wouldn’t melt every damn time Dean said something to me.

Another email appeared in my inbox, and I immediately clicked on it. God, I was such a sucker for him.

It was like my fingers moved on their own, betraying every ounce of resistance I tried to cling to. This time, the subject line made me want to throw my laptop across the room from frustration. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I was letting him treat me like I wasn’t worth any respect.

From: Dean Rockwell

Subject: Don’t you dare ignore me, kitten

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