Page 59 of Latte Girl
Each ding announcing the passing floors makes me grit my teeth as I tap my foot in a spastic rhythm against the carpet. I finally get to my office and openthedoor.
I freeze. Every thought in my mind evaporates as the air whooshes out of my lungs like I’ve just been clubbed intheback.
Hailey is onmydesk.
Her clothes are on thefloor.
My brain short-circuits at the sight of her bare skin, covered only by a pale blue pair of panties and matching bra. Her hair is loose from the tight bun she usually keeps it in at work, tumbling down her back in waves so long they almost brush the top of my desk. She spreads her legs slightly, looking like sin and salvation allatonce.
“You work at a security company. You should really learn to lock yourofficedoor.”
I just stand there, my jaw dropping so far it’s in danger of comingunhinged.
“Well?” she croons, trailing a hand up the inside of herthigh.
I try to speak and have to clear my throat before I can make a soundcomeout.
“I think I’m about to go into cardiac arrest,” Icroak.
She cracks a smile and suddenly the seductress on my desk transforms into Hailey, my spoon-dropping, cafe-loving, ridiculous-joke-cracking Hailey. She’s all the sexier because of it. I feel like calling whoever’s in charge of the universe and telling them there’s been some sort of mistake; there’s no way I’m lucky enough to be in the same room as this bombshellrightnow.
“I could just get backunderthe desk,” she suggests with a smirk. “I’ve always thought about how differently that encounter couldhavegone.”
“I couldn’t get you out of my head for days after that,” I tell her, feeling like I’m caught in a trance. “Actually, I don’t think you’ve been out of my head eversince.”
I love how brazen she is, meeting my gaze with a hunger in her eyes, her hands braced behind her on the desk so that her chest is thrust towards me. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me right now and it’s got me so turned on I have to consciously remind myself to breathe. My head is filled with so many images of what could happen next that they all blur together into a churning cyclone of skin and screams and her bodyundermine.
I step towards her, moving right up to the edge of the desk so that I’m standing between her parted thighs. I take her hips in my hands and hear her breath catch. I stare down at her body, at the smooth skin of her stomach and the perfect view of those gorgeous, gorgeous tits. Her head is tipped back, a flush creeping up her neck and into hercheeks.
I focus on her slightly parted mouth, on the way her bottom lip is begging for me to take it between my teeth. Her thighs clench against me. I try to meet her gaze, but my eyes won’t go any farther. The reality of our situation hitsmehard.
“I can’t do this,” Itellher.
“Jordan, look at me.” Her voice is as soft as the touch of her hand on my cheek. “The reason I’m sitting half naked on your desk right now is because I wanted to prove that everything’s okay. I get that your life isn’t ideal right now. Neither is mine. Maybe it’s crazy to say something like this so soon, but I really feel like if we follow through with this thing between us, we can change that for bothofus.”
I want to cover every inch of her in kisses for saying that. I want to get down on my knees between her legs and make her come over and over and over again so she can experience just a fraction of how good it feels to hear her speak thosewords.
Instead I take a step back and square my shoulders, lifting my head up and finally locking my eyesontohers.
“There are some things you needtoknow.”
She blinks, then leans forwards and crosses her arms over her chest, hiding her body frommyview.
“Like what?” Her voice is laced with the caution, as if she’s talking to someone holdingagun.
“My dad wants me to see someone else,” Iblurtout.
She just stares at me for a moment, and then gets up and pulls her shirt from off the floor. Only once she’s got it back on and buttoned up does she continue theconversation.
“See? Asindate?”
I rush to explain myself. “It’s just this stupid PR thing. I’m supposed to be making the media think I’m involved with one of ourclients.”
“Are you?” she askssharply.
“Of course not! I don’t even know her. They just want us to act like we’re together. It doesn’t have any effect on youandme.”
She’s picking up her black barista pants now, and I’m tempted to tear them from her hands and kiss her so hard she’ll let me sit her back down on my desk, but I know we’re way pastthatnow.
