Page 79 of Making Home with You
“Oh you do huh?”I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Please,” she says, waving a hand.“You do know who my brother is, right?”
I laugh, I should’ve known that hard ass would have taught her a thing or two.She’s his baby sister for fuck’s sake, like he was ever going to send her out into the world unable to defend herself.
“Really?”I tease.“And what about weapons?”I ask.“You know how to use a baton, or pepper spray?”
Sarah’s eyes widen.“I’m getting pepper spray?”
I laugh.“You are.”
I watch as a grin tugs at her mouth, obviously excited at what I’ve got for her.“That might be the best present anyone’s ever given me,” she says, rocking on her heels.
I can’t stop the laugh as I step toward her, arms wide.“Alright tough girl,” I say.“Wanna show me some of these moves of yours?”
“Oh, you better believe it, Chief,” she says, lowering her hands as she steps closer.“You ready?”
“I’m ready,” I tell her, giving her a quick wink.
Sarah moves faster than I expect and before I can say anything more, she’s hooking her right leg behind my knees, one hand on my shoulder, the other arm across my chest as she lifts me up and down so I find myself lying flat on my back on the mat.Sarah ends up straddling my hips, each hand pressed flat into the mat on either side of my head.
“Fuck,” I grunt.
“Not bad, huh, Chief?”she says hovering over me.
“I’m impressed,” I say staring up at her.
Sarah licks her lips, sucking the bottom one between her teeth.“So, now we’ve established I can defend myself,” she says, eyes sparkling.“Wanna try another form of cardio?”
I grin up at her, hands moving to her wrists before flipping us quickly so it’s now her lying beneath me.Leaning down, I press my mouth to her ear.“Naked wrestling, maybe?”I whisper, before nibbling her neck.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sarah
My next day at work is bogged down with an insane amount of meetings, and unfortunately most of them involve Andrew.I’ve been lucky enough that’s he’s not only completely unprofessional when it comes to the company’s sexual harassment policy but also in everything he does.He is now refusing to speak to me, literally emailing me from across the room, from the room next door.
I couldn’t give a shit about his childish behavior; actually I welcome it because it means I don’t have to speak to him either.
I wonder if he thinks he’s playing hard to get and that will somehow draw me to him.I can’t believe he’s so delusional to believe that his appalling actions are attractive.He’s disgusting, and I’ve made that quite clear.
I’m about to leave for the day, and since the incident with Joe, I no longer tell Andrew I’m leaving.I arrive at my required time of seven-thirty, put in my nine hours with an hour lunch break and then bail.Any additional work I haven’t finished I now do at home just to avoid any additional time spent with Andrew.
Just as I’m packing up my things, the door to my office is flung open, loud and swiftly as it bangs against the wall.I jump, always on edge now, but when I look up, there’s a tall middle-aged woman standing in the doorway.
Her ombré brown and blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she’s wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with a Boston College logo on it.She’s disheveled but pretty, and I wonder if she’s a former conquest of Andrew’s.
I watch her clench her fists at her sides and my heart starts hammering in my chest.What the hell is going on?
“Where the fuck is he?”she shouts, her dark brown eyes set firmly on me.She raises a perfectly arched brown and without waiting for me to answer, she whips open the door to Andrew’s office and shrieks out loud when she finds it empty.
She storms back into mine, and I have yet to leave my desk, stunned into silence wondering what exactly this woman is doing here.
“Where’s my husband?”she demands.“And don’t tell me you don’t fucking know because you know.We all know.Everyone fucking knows!”To say she’s angry would be an understatement, and now that I know who she is, her rage is warranted.
I watch angry tears streak her face, leaving lines through her makeup and she loudly stomps toward my desk.
“And you,” she hisses, pointing a neatly manicured finger at me, “how long have you been sleeping with my husband?”
