Page 37 of Our Little Cliche
“Miss Cate, are you… resigning?” Incidentally my voice lowers, but I can’t help it, I can’t let her leave.
I won’t let her leave.
Not now that I know I’m a…hot piece of ass.Not ever. This is exactly why I’ve shut her out for the last week and a bit—I can’t even look at her without wanting to bend her over on that desk and take her here and now. Fuck the tension right out of her. And me.
This woman.
My god, thisirresistiblewoman.
I’ve been avoiding Holly like the plague so that I can keep my hands off of her, but then she had to go and waltz into my office earlier today with those gorgeous plaits of hers running either side of her head, and all I could think of from then on was how much I wanted to tug on them while I fuc?—
See?
This is why I stay away from her.
Now it makes sense as to why she’s been steering clear of the requirement of her job which is to be alive-inpersonal assistant,and sometimes editor, because now I know that she wants to date me…a hot piece of ass.
Holly takes two steps back. “N-no. I’m… not.”
A familiar feeling comes marching right back into the pit of my stomach the same way it did a few hours ago when she brought me treats:butterflies. Millions of them. All scrambling around in my gut. I swallow down the lump in my throat, knowing that what I’m about to say next is way out of line, but do it anyway.
“So, you’renotleaving anormal careerwhere you’re working for a… what was it you said?” Her face runs washed in white, but then a glimmer of a blush starts to form. “Ahh, ahot piece of ass?” I air quote with a turned brow.
“You heard that?”
Those rosey cheeks are why I have to masturbate more than usual so that I don’t grow a foot-long every time I look at her. And those jeans. Damn those jeans, they’re too good on her. The way that they hug her body, showing every curve she has, and her little sheer, black blouse tucking in at her waistline only adds to her features. It’s damn near sending me into cardiac arrest.
“Oh, I heard it alright.”The truth is out now.
“I’m-I’m sorry. I can’t work for you anymore, Cyrus. I-I need to go,” she stumbles her words, and scoots right past me.
Wait, what?
Did she just… quit?
“Wait.” Silence and her signature scent scent is all I am given in return. “Miss Cate, please.” I chase after her, but when she opens the front door the arctic winds howl through, and herbreath catches with a loud gasp—mirroring the same pattern of the door is fresh, pale whitesnow, almost to the soffit.
We’re snowed in.
This storm wasn’t due until next week.
Holly’s fingers brush over the solid, glistening flakes, and turns back to face me with anoh, shit, I’m stuck with my bosswho knows I want to date himlook. Yet another reason I spend every second of every day trying to keep my thoughts and hands to myself—all because of the way those eyes crawl over my body as if she’s seconds from tearing my clothes off.
Reading the room I offer an ultimatum, backing away. “I’ll stay away, you can have the house to yourself. I’ll stay in my office.”
I get to the corridor by the time she replies. “Cyrus?”
“…Yes?”
She says nothing for a beat, a question lingering on the edge of her lips. “Nothing, never mind.”
“Alright, then. If it’s any consolation, there are plenty of supplies to last us a long time. What would you like for dinner? That is, if you’ll allow me the space,” I joke, trying to make light of the situation, perhaps to ease the awkwardness in the air.
“Aren’t I supposed to be cooking?”
“You’re off the hook, remember?”You’re the one who quit.
“I-I?—”
