ME: How good are you at golfing?
MR. GENTLEMAN: Enough to beat his old ass.
I bite back a laugh. Always so arrogant.
ME: Is that a good idea? You should let him win.
MR. GENTLEMAN: Seriously?
I can sense his incredulous tone.
ME: You’re there to win over the man, not the game.
ME: Keep your eye on the prize. It’s his vote.
MR. GENTLEMAN: You’re making me go against my morals, angel.
ME: Oh, you have morals? I find that very hard to believe.
MR. GENTLEMAN: You find many things hard to believe about me.
MR. GENTLEMAN: Remember when you thought I’d hate the taste of your sweet pussy? You were wrong about that.
Heat flies to my cheeks and I ball my hand into a fist to resist fanning my face.
MR. GENTLEMAN: I can’t wait to have you riding my mouth again, little minx.
I shift on my chair, a pulse roaring to life between my thighs.
How does he do it? Turn every conversation into something sexual that leaves me a blushing mess.
“Lord!” exclaims Anaya. “Are you seriously sexting him right in front of me?”
“No!” I gasp, glancing up from my phone. “I am not.”
“It’s written all over your face, Aru. Unless you magically put on a fresh coat of blush.”
“Shut up!” I brush my cheek. “We’re having a platonic conversation.”
“Tell that to your face.”
“How about you get the check instead of watching me?”
“Need privacy?” She smirks, standing up and giving me a thumbs-up. “You got it.”
Once she’s gone, I reply to Nathan.
ME: You can’t sext me in public, Nathan.
ME: I’m with a friend.
MR. GENTLEMAN: As if you weren’t thinking about our time in your office the minute you saw my text.
ME: I wasn’t.
MR. GENTLEMAN: I can imagine your red cheeks, angel. Don’t lie.
ME: I don’t lie.
