I didn’t look at her.
I couldn’t.
Because the next few hours were going to be long, and I wasn’t sure if I’d spend them focused on instrumentation specs or trying not to imagine James' voice repeating her name, but this time with his hands pinned behind his back.
Either way… I needed to get my shit together.
Immediately.
The meeting wrapped with the usual shuffling of papers, handshakes, and promises of follow-up emails. James stood to the side, deep in conversation with a consultant, while Amiyah turned toward me with a warm smile.
“Hey, you wanna ride with me to the site?” she asked casually, slipping her tablet into a leather sleeve. “It’s only about ten minutes, but parking’s tight. Might be easier to go together.”
I hesitated for a split second, just long enough to wonder if this was some kind of setup, but I nodded. “Sure. That works.”
She grinned, dimples flashing, and gestured for me to follow her out.
We walked in silence through the hallway and down tothe garage, our heels echoing off the concrete, the air thick with summer heat trapped between the levels. She walked with an easy confidence, not a performative one, but a natural one. Ass swaying like it had its own rhythm section, and I was watching, not discreetly either.
Thick thighs, soft waist, those hips, that hair, the smile, her scent, I was fucking aroused, intrigued; my imagination had her straddling my lap, her mouth open and panting while I held her close, working a rhythm deep and steady, wondering how well she could take dick, or my strap. Something told me she wouldn’t run from it, wouldn’t squirm away once it got deep. No, she’d take it, be greedy for it, probably beg for more.
Jesus.
I shifted the weight in my heels, clearing my throat, trying to reel it in.
Amiyah beeped the locks on a sleek, dark hybrid SUV and opened the passenger door for me. She looked at me with something unreadable in her eyes, not shy, not cocky, but aware. Like she knew what I was thinking. Like she wanted me to.
Once we were inside, the doors shut with a soft thump and the AC kicked on.
“You good?” she asked, glancing over at me with a slight smirk. “You looked like you were miles away in that meeting earlier. You eat today?”
I gave a low laugh. “Caught me. No. Coffee and nerves.”
“Mm.” She tapped the wheel, eyes forward. “Well, I got mints in the console and trail mix in the backseat if you need to fake having your life together.”
That made me laugh again, real this time. She was easy to talk to, which made her all the more dangerous. Iwatched her hands on the wheel. Noticed the way her forearms flexed, tattoos peeking beneath the cuff of her blouse. And when we hit a red light, she looked over at me again.
“You and James… y’all work together before?”
The question was smooth. Not invasive. Like she was just making conversation.
I kept my expression calm. “No. This is our first project.”
She hummed. A small nod. Like she didn’t quite believe me. Or like she knew better than to press.
“Interesting,” she said softly. “You two just have… a kind of energy. It’s hard to explain.”
That gave me pause.
Energy?
I studied her out of the corner of my eye, but she just smiled, eyes on the road now, lashes long and low.
Something in her tone wasn’t accusatory.
It was teasing, daring even, as if she wanted me to claim him outright, but not in a possessive, “I’m taking my ball and going home” way; no, it was flirtatious.
Subtle, skilled, further letting me know that there was so much more to her than met the eye.
