Shit, shit, shit.
My heart pounds as he approaches then stops behind me. I start trembling as he leans down. In spite of that—because of that?—I start getting hard.
Andre plants one hand on the edge of my desk while his other reaches for the drawer where I put my phone. My hand shoots out to hold the drawer shut, but Andre’s face turns toward me. He speaks close to my ear.
“No.”
I shiver. Shudder. I am shockingly, searingly alive.
I’m struck by the contrast to how I felt over the weekend when I was so safe and comfortable in all the outrageous luxury surrounding me. I couldn’t even feel any of that softness, but I can feel this, now, the sharp edge of danger.
The difference, I know, is me. Andre has crowded me before. He’s dominated me, intimidated me. But he would never hurt me, so it’s never been more than a surface-level thrill. Besides, someone like him, someone beautiful and wealthy and powerful? He could never really want me.
That’s the reality I lived while Andre was gone. Four days of his absence robbed me of even the ghostly imaginings that had been floating me along.
I know those imaginings are false, that Andre doesn’t want me—but my stalker does.
At least, that’s the fantasy, and I’ll take it. He makes me believe it.
So fear, now, is alive in my body, and I don’t care if I’m blending my fantasy into reality or my reality into my fantasy. I need Andre to be a part of it. He has been from the beginning.
But this is different, real in a different way. I don’t want Andre to see my messages. I don’t want him to know this part of me.
But I’m as powerless with him as I am with my stalker. His hand covers mine. He opens the drawer.
I can feel his breath behind my ear where my hair has been cut away, exposing the skin. I can’t stop shivering.
He sets my phone on the desk beside my mouse. He closes the drawer.
“What if I need to text you?” he whispers.
My mouth isn’t working. I don’t know how to say,But you’re sitting beside me.
“Besides,” he adds, “I’m not a monster. I know you have a life outside this job. I don’t expect you to abandon it.”
He straightens, releasing me from the cage of his body. He leaves me shuddering at my desk and trying to hide it as he returns to his own. He goes back to work as though nothing has happened. I suppose, for him, nothing has. I, however, don’t know what to do about how aroused I am. I’m struggling to remain silent, to be still.
But I only have to suffer for a minute before Andre says, “I’d like you to pick up lunch for us. It’ll help you learn the area. Steak fajita or chicken?”
“Uh … um … steak.”
Andre’s lips quirk like he likes that. He picks up his phone and starts typing. That kind of thing is my job, but I’m glad he’s doing it. I can’t think right now.
“It’s a bit of a walk, so you should get going. I’ll send you the address.”
I jump when my phone pings. I pick it up and find Andre’s message. It seems to prove what he said, that he might need to text me. I feel a little dumb for thinking otherwise. I’m glad I didn’t say anything.
I get up from my desk, turning away quickly so he won’t see how my dick is pressing against my fly. I grab my phone and jacket.
As I head to the elevator, Andre says, “Go through the hotel. You need to learn it better. And keep your phone on in case I need to text you.”
“Okay,” I reply, glancing at the wall of mirrors to see him. I realize, horrifyingly, that my hard-on is very obvious, but Andre, thank god, is looking at his computer. I stuff one arm then the other into my jacket, tugging it into place to hide my arousal.
“I’ll … I’ll be back,” I say, but Andre only grunts. He’s focused on his work, not paying any more attention to me.
The route through the hotel is indeed long. The Axis has several elevators, but only the private one reaches this floor. I have to go down a flight of stairs and several hallways to reach one of the public elevators, then I’m further slowed by guests getting on and off.
I finally reach the lobby and make the long trek across it before I can pass through the main doors and out onto the sidewalk.
