“Nina,” his deep voice purrs from the other side of the desk.
I start to flick through the blank pieces of paper in front of me, double time, as if I am doing something important: anything to keep my hands busy and my eyes offhim.
Why does he smell so damn good?
“Nina,” he says impatiently after a beat.
He doesn’t seem like the type of man who likes to be ignored. I quirk a brow at the thought. I’m going to enjoy this. He says nothing, but I can feel his eyes burning into my head.
“I came to apologise for the other morning. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
I roll my eyes.
Do better, asshole.
“You left so fast I didn’t get a chance to explain. I didn’t think Elliot paid you—”
My head snaps up, ready to fight as anger rips through me at his blatant lie, but my words die on my lips when I catch sight of him.
He looks fucking hot. Even hotter than Friday night. He is wearing a three-piece navy suit, his muscular shoulders filling it impeccably, and his hair sits in a perfect tousled mess on his stupidly handsome head.
He looks divine.
He smiles a cocky ‘I know I’m beautiful’ smile, and I avert my eyes again, composing myself.
“We are closed.” I push out from behind the desk, hoping he will take the hint and leave.
He watches me with amusement as I get my bag from the staff room and move to stand at the entrance, waiting for him to leave. He eventually follows, stopping when he is in front of me.
“Let me drive you home,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Please?”
I want to lean into his touch; he has a hold over me that makes me feel weak. I jerk back, slapping his hand away. “Are you mad? As if I’d go anywhere with you. Leave now! I need to lock up.”
“I’m not letting you walk home alone. It’s getting dark out.” His eyes keep dropping to my lips, and I decide to play with him a bit. I dart my tongue out, wetting them.
Nice. And. Slowly.
“You didn’t have an issue with me walking home on Saturday morning,” I remind him, folding my arms in front of me.
He steps in closer, his nostrils flaring as his solid chest bumps against my arms. “No, I didn’t get a chance to. You ran off like a child before I could even get dressed.” He stares down at me, accusing, intense.
“That’s a shame, isn’t it? Leave.” I shoulder past him out onto the street.
He follows behind, his annoyance at my brush-off blatant as he mutters profanity’s under his breath.
I’m sure he planned to come here tonight, apologise, and expected me to drop down at his feet. I mean, I can’t imagine he is used to rejection. The mans a stud. An annoyingly handsome, rude stud.
I lock the door and turn, not expecting him to be standing directly behind me. He leans forward, caging me in with his arms on either side of my head. He looks down his perfectly imperfect nose at me, and my resistance wilts under his stare.
“I’m driving you home,” he tells me in a no nonsense ‘you will do as I tell you’ tone.
But he has seriously underestimated me if he thinks he can make demands and expect me to bow down to them.
“What makes you think I’d do what you want?” I whisper, close enough to his lips that I can see the golden flecks in his eyes but not so close that they touch.
Inside, I tell myself it’s to see how far I can push him, but I also wonder what I’d do if he closed the distance between us. Just an inch closer, and we’d touch.
My heart thumps against my chest as his eyes dart all over my face, his lips parting.
