I want to slap my own face for handing control for the future of my design career back into Mr Peterson’s hands and if he says no, well, I will have nobody to blame but myself.
“Fine.” My boss sighs, shocking me slightly because this all seems a little too simple. I have been trying to get a break here for the best part of two years with no success and now, one word from Mason and a door is opening for me. “I was thinking of putting this design Sean’s way and I know you and he get on.”
I notice Mason frowning at me when my boss refers to me and Sean getting on, but that can’t mean anything, can it? No, because he never even gave me his name.
“Miss Carrington, I’d appreciate a further discussion with you at my offices. Three o’clock this afternoon is good for me.” His tone somehow offers no room to debate or discuss. “For us to establish exactly what you can and can’t do without consulting the lead designer or me. You’re good with Miss Carrington cutting work early to come to me, Christian?” he asks. It is more of a statement than a question.
“Of course. So, if you’re finished Olivia, maybe you could send Sean in,” Peterson says, and I know I am definitely being dismissed now.
I get to my feet and walk towards the door when Mason calls to me, “I’ll let you have the address on my way out, Miss Carrington.”
An hour and a half later Mason is leaving Mr Peterson’s office and heading towards me.
“Do you drive?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll pick you up at two, downstairs,” he says and is already on his way out.
“No, just give me the address and I’ll make my own way to you for three,” I insist.
He turns and studies me for a few seconds and then smiles. God, I remember that smile from last night and it still has the same effect, it’s melting me.
“If you insist, just this once.” He returns to my desk with an overconfident swagger. “Here,” he says, offering me a business card. “Address and my direct line, in case you get lost, but don’t be late, I hate tardiness, especially when I have offered you a way to be on time. Three o’clock, Miss Carrington.”
I turn away as he leaves and find Cathy and Sean grinning at me.
“What?”
“He is seriously hot,” Cathy replies.
“And he fancies you,” Sean adds.
“Erm, can we get on with work,” says Peterson from his doorway with a frown before he returns to his office, slamming the door shut behind him.
Chapter 3
Mason
Finally finding myself in the safe confines of an empty lift heading away from Peterson Michaels I breathe a sigh of relief and disbelief. What are the chances of my gorgeous brunette from last night being employed here? None, I would have said, had I not seen her with my own eyes this morning.
She was hotter than I’d allowed myself to remember from last night and this morning when she was embarrassed at waking up naked with me. We didn’t even exchange names, which is fine, would have been fine if I hadn’t just invited her to come and do some work for me, her and Sean, who she, Olivia, gets along with.
“Olivia.” I am saying her name in my head and out loud and I like the sound of it on my tongue. Like I am somehow tasting her on my tongue. Fuck! I really need to forget about last night, especially now that she is going to be around for a while.
I never hook up with girls more than once, well, not girls I meet in clubs. Girls who take me home the night they meet me and fuck me like she fucked me, like a very high-class hooker.
She was more than I could have expected when I first noticed her dancing with her friend, although the way she dances should be illegal. It’s like porn to music the way she moves. More surprising was the fact that she was funny, bright and articulate, even when she’d had one drink too many. I shake my head at my reflection, mentally telling myself to stop reviewing our night together, but I tell my inner voice to shut the fuck up and reminisce some more. The creamy colour of her skin, pale and soft, the way it reacted to my touch, the goose bumps I felt rising all over her as I skimmed across it with my fingers… my tongue, and yet it was as though my skin on hers burnt her, just like earlier when I shook her hand.
I am no stranger to women, sex or one-night stands and yet nobody has ever reacted to me like she did last night. She was so open to suggestion and incredibly responsive to every touch, look and word.
Had I met her differently, would I have exchanged names and numbers? Possibly, I reply to myself but already know that I would have, most definitely. Even allowing for how we met I considered it this morning. When I woke with that horrendous noise blaring out, her alarm, all I could think about was pulling her close to kiss her, then touching her before finally sprawling her on her back to fuck her, or maybe I would have had her on her front, or on all fours, or even pulled her across me for her to ride me while I played with her tits. Shit, those tits. Firm, round and just a little too big for my hands. The way they overflowed in just the right way as I stroked and teased her nipples.
I am now aware of other people joining me in the lift but am more aware of a throbbing erection at my trip down memory lane. Without a doubt I am going to struggle having her around me, but I can’t go back there, not because I don’t want to but because no matter how good it was she is obviously a little slutty to take me home the way she did. I know that makes me a hypocrite because she did exactly what I did and I have no problem with that, but if I see her again, fuck her again, maybe take her to dinner, then I am saying it’s okay to be that way and it’s not, not for a serious relationship, a girlfriend, not for me.
I get off the lift and sign out at the reception desk where an older man, the security guy smiles at me knowingly.
“Thanks.” Still, he smiles and stares. “Is there something you wanted to say?” I ask feeling testy, frustrated really.
