Page 27 of Bourbon Wishes
Me: That was not me requesting to roleplay.
Me: What are your terms?
Bastian: You'll see when I get back to the office. We'll be there around 1:30.
"Shit," I mumble, glancing at the clock as my heart thuds against my ribcage hard enough to feel like an electric shock. That means I have a little over an hour to bolster my defenses and convince myself to stand strong in the face of a seriously intimidating offense.
If I were a gambling girl, I would not be betting on me right now. Not a chance.
Me: See you then.
Bastian: Can't wait, baby.
I run my finger over the words, my heart fluttering.
God, I am in so far over my head with him. But if this is what drowning feels like…well, maybe I don't want to learn to swim.
Inearly jump outof my chair an hour later when my desk phone rings while I'm trying to upload all of the photos and videos Bastian sent me to turn them into something usable.
I shared the first part of the printer saga this morning, and it's actually performing really well. As suspected, it's relatable and funny.
Everyone feels for Jax…or wants to feel him up. There have been a few comments asking about Haven, too. I've beendeleting all the gross ones. Who knew there were so many creeps on social media?
I'm not sure why that still surprises me, but it always does.
I snatch the receiver off the base like my life depends on it.
"Hello?"
"My office. Two minutes," Bastian growls in my ear.
"Give me ten. I'm working on something."
"Two minutes, Constance."
"Jesus, Bastian. Have you ever heard the wordplease?" I ask. "I believe it's in the dictionary a few pages afterno." I'm also reasonably sure it's right afterpleaand right beforepleasure, but I leave that part out.
"That's three."
"What?" I ask, but I'm talking to no one. Literally. He already hung up on me. I stab the button on the base, ready to call him back and give him a piece of my mind, but I don't even have time to dial his extension before I hear him stomping down the hall, each step hard enough to rattle the pictures hanging on my wall.
"Crap," I whisper, dropping the phone into the base as I glance around, searching for a place to hide. Unless I manage to cram myself into a filing cabinet, though, I'm shit out of luck. And, call me crazy, but I don't think my curvy ass is fitting into the cabinet with all my files and random junk.
I settle for pushing away from the desk to stand against the wall. Maybe I'll have a better chance of fleeing if I'm already on my feet.
He stomps in like a black parade, all pissed-off glower and twitching bottom lip. His eyes slant to mine, dark as sin. He holds my gaze, not speaking as he slowly pushes the door closed behind him.
I feel the lock clicking into place in my damn womb.
"We are not having sex in the office," I manage to say.
"Should have thought of that before you decided to get mouthy." His lips lift at the corners as he strips out of his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. It's not quite a smile, more of a taunting smirk. "I warned you. You chose not to listen. And" –he starts rolling his sleeves up his corded forearms—"I'm guessing your panties are already soaked through, aren't they?"
"No." I'm a filthy liar. They've been sopping wet for the last hour.
"Mmhmm. Why are you all the way over there, baby?"
"Trying to decide if I want to bludgeon you with my shoe and run out of here or scream for help."
