Drake stops mid-step, my keys dangling from his finger like he’s teasing me. Like he found them somewhere … personal.Andmy phone?Aimeddirectly at him. I couldn’t have focused better on him if I’d tried.
He flinches in surprise, not expecting to be thrust into the spotlight.
“I’m live,” I say, smiling at him. “Say hi.”
He flashes me a quick, apologetic grin before turning his attention to the phone. His recovery from surprise to swoonable is impressive. And hot as freaking hell.
A dark Henley—blue or black, I’m not sure—shows off the ridges of his shoulders and the thickness of his chest. His arms fill out the sleeves until the fabric stops, bunched just above his powerful forearms. His smirk is the classiest version of porn that I’ve ever watched. And his tone? Thick, rich, and charming.
“How’s everyone this afternoon?” he asks.
His chuckle stirs something deep in my core. I blame it on exhaustion … and on calling off my date with Matthew last weekend. A girl has needs, and mine are currently unmet.
“You guys need to settle the fuck down,” he says, licking his bottom lip through a grin.
I can practically hear the women moaning through the screen. I almost want to drag the phone down his body as a treat for my fans, but I don’t. Asking for his consent while in front of the camera doesn’t feel fair.Although a part of me thinks he’d love the attention.
“Why do they need to settle down?” I ask it as if I’m oblivious to how they’re melting down right now.
“Let’s just say our demographics are very, very different.”
The sparkle in his eyes is downright dangerous.
“This is why you knock before barging into my office,” I say, setting the tripod on my desk as memories of Friday’s comment section cross my mind like a ticker tape.
“The door was open, first of all.” He rounds my desk and stands just off camera. “Second, I found your keys in the breakroom and thought I’d be a good Samaritan and return them before you spend two hours digging through that hefty bag of yours.”
I sit in my chair and scoot my phone toward me. The commentary is a shitstorm, as expected.
BREAK ROOM? LIAR.
Oh, nice try. We know how you got her keys!
I bet that dick is fire.
I knew you were dating! @photogirliepop18 Told you!
GO LEGENDS! #numbereightysevenforever
Your kids are gonna be so gorgeous.
Marry me, Drake!
“Let’s get one thing clear before rumors start,” I say, laughing. “Drake and I arenota thing.” I point at him as I talk to my audience. “We’re not dating, and I don’t know whether any part of him is ‘fire’ or not.”
“This is excellent for a man’s ego,” Drake says, crouching beside me as the comments speed out of control. “I’m all fire, thank you,” he says, chuckling. “No, her keys were inthe break room. Notmy bedroom. But thank you for thinking I could pull a woman like her.”
I knock him with my knee. That only deepens his smirk … and raises my body temperature about three thousand percent.
“I don’t even remember having them in the break room,” I say, forcing a swallow and regaining control of my thoughts.
“Why does that not surprise me?” he mumbles, eyes lighting up at the phone. “I missed your name, but yes—Go Legends. I’ll be back in Illinois soon for a game.”
I roll my eyes. “If you want to talk sports, go to your office. We talk about fun stuff here.”
“Then let’s talk about fun stuff.”
“Okay,” I say, laughing. “I thought you said that you listened to my podcast.”
