Page 66 of Love in Mission City
With every comment, every compliment, and every question, I felt his desire. I would’ve just insisted we rip our clothes off and fuck like rabbits on his leather couch.
Or the floor.
Or the conference table.
Oh, or the shower.
Anywhere.
Truly.
But he senthands offsignals at every turn. Whereas I was ready to jump him, he appeared cool as a cucumber.
Which really was an odd expression my mother loved to use…but my examination of it would keep for another day.
By Sunday night, I was ready to explode.
“We’re done.”
I glanced up from my mounds of paperwork to gaze at Knight. “What do you meanwe’re done?”
“I mean we need to stop tweaking and making changes around the margin. There comes a point in every project when it’s time to stop working—and we’ve hit that time.”
“Uh…” I gazed over the mess. Obviously, he meant we’d clean up first. I glanced at the wall clock. Only seven-thirty. Jacqui wouldn’t be here for another sixteen hours.
Knight handed me a piece of paper. “On the nice parchment, okay? Go with the light-gray.”
I nodded. “Yeah, okay.” I started to gather the papers.
“No worries, I’ll do it.”
“Yeah, okay.” Cleaning up was definitely part of my job, but if he wanted to do it tonight, I wouldn’t complain. The sooner everything was wrapped up, the sooner I could find my down pillow and fall fast asleep.
Knowing we’d done an excellent job.
I made my way to the supply closet and inspiration struck me. I quickly photocopied the papers and put them into sleekKnight Architecturelabelled folders. Knight had hired a graphic artist after his husband left, and she’d designed some amazing logos, banners, and other assorted things that connoted strength and authority. She’d also done a bang-up job on the website, and I monitored traffic on it, finding when we saw an uptick, we tended to get more phone calls.
As I finished that task, I eyed the photocopier. I’d washed my cum off of it Saturday morning. To my surprise, it had worked just fine. Like the debacle the night before had been for show. And thank God Simone hadn’t insisted on coming in and trying to fix it. I was pretty sure she knew what we’d been up to. Apparently she could be discreet.
I eyed the photocopier. I retrieved the supplies from my pocket, put them on the machine, and then cursed.
Loudly.
As I heard Knight approaching, I kicked the machine.
Gently, of course. Because I really didn’t want to have to replace it—even if it was full of gremlins.
“What’s going on?” Knight scowled. “I’d finally poured myself a scotch, and I heard you shouting.”
“Cursing,” I corrected.
He arched an eyebrow. “Cursing,” he repeated.
“Right.” I pointed to the machine. “It’s acting up again.” I turned to the machine. “I'm going to put my hand inside your duplicator and rip your guts out..."
Knight coughed. “Does that threatactuallywork?”
I batted my eyelashes. “It did before. Come on, Knight—we did this Friday night.” I batted my eyelashes again in acome play with mesilent invite.
