Perhaps I’m not the only feeling that way, as Blake returns handing me my underwear and some bottoms and says, “This feels like the first time we slept together. When I had no idea if I’d ever see you again and the idea ate me up inside for weeks.”
“Weeks?”
“Weeks,” he confirms. “I was so angry at myself for not just asking you for your number.”
I shove my legs through the trousers, tightening the drawstring so they don’t fall down. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I wished I’d asked for your number, too.”
Blake laughs lowly, cupping the back of his neck and creating a pretty bulge in his bicep. “We’re a right pair.”
“A match made in heaven,” I agree. “As for seeing me… are you free next Friday?”
Blake bobs his head.
“Do you have a suit?”
“Somewhere in my wardrobe, yeah. Why?”
“There’s a black-tie gala event for work on Friday night. It’ll mainly be schmoozing, but there’ll be a free bar.”
“Will be McAvoy be there?”
“Yeah. It’s his uncle who throws the whole thing, so he’ll definitely be there.”
“It’ll be a good place to rile him up, then.” Blake smirks. “Count me in.”
Chapter 19
Calla
“Miss Becker, a word please.”
I peer up from my computer screen to find Thomas leaning over the door to my cubicle, an unreadable expression about his face.
This is really not what I’d like for a Monday morning at… half nine in the morning. I’ve only just clocked in thirty minutes ago for crying out loud.
“Of course.” I paint of a faux smile, standing and smoothing any my pencil skirt. Tucking my chair beneath my desk, I go to grab my notebook and pen, only for a cold hand to land upon my wrist, stopping me.
“You won’t be needing those, Calla,” Thomas croons, sending a shiver down my spine. “Now, ladies first.”
I barely repress a scoff. Ladies first, yeah right. Thomas McAvoy doesn’t have a gentlemanly bone in his body, not even his cock. He just wants me to go ahead so he can stare at my arse.
Clenching my jaw, I do as he says, minutely shaking my head in Carmen’s direction when I see her returning from the staff room with a steaming cup of green tea.
Treading the familiar path to my boss’ office, I turn left at the water dispenser, only for Thomas to place a palm too low to the base of my spine, practically touching my bum, and direct me to his office instead.
“Uncle isn’t in yet, so we’re going to my office today, Calla.”
Ugh.
I step inside the glass prison, hurrying for a seat, past his expensive state-of-the-art coffee machine, while Thomas rounds his mahogany desk. It might be the same size as his uncle’s office, but itfeelssmaller, more closed in.
“Do you have any idea why I’ve called you into my office today, Calla?”
I shake my head mutely.
