“You too, James.”
I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I just wait for him to leave.
Finally, he walks out, and I hear his footsteps fade down the hallway. I wait a few more minutes, making absolutely sure he’s gone, before stepping out of my office to talk to Betty. Everyone else has already left for the day, and she’s just packing up her things when the elevator dings and my tall tattooed nightmare stalks toward us. Betty’s face lights up, and I get it. She hasn’t seen me with anyone in years, and I know she’s happy that I’m happy.
“Hello again.”
“It’s nice to see you, Betty.”
He won’t look at me.
He’s pissed.
Betty claps her hands once, already backing away from us. “Okay, I guess I’m gonna head out. I’ll leave you two to finish up.” That curl of her lip tells me she’s enjoying this far too much. “I’ll see you in the morning, Shannen.”
“Thank you, Betty,” I answer, watching her step into the elevator.
I turn to face Phoenix, and he’s finally looking at me.
I know he’s felt out of control today. Watching me through a screen while another man invades my space is something Phoenix can no longer tolerate, and honestly, he shouldn’t have to now. But I feel his need to be close to me because no matter how angry he is, he’s still mine, and I’m still his.
“Ready to go?” I ask because the silence is getting way too loud.
“No.”
“No?” I echo.
“Get in your office. I wanna check something.”
“Check what?”
“Shannen… Turn your ass around, get back in your office, and sit in your fucking chair.”
He’s beyond asking at this point—his patience has fucked right off, along with his manners.
I take a deep breath and walk back to my desk, dropping into my chair. He closes my door behind us, then slowly walks toward me without saying a single word.
Phoenix grips the back of my chair and shoves it forward, the wheels protesting as I’m forced closer to the desk. Before I can ask what the hell he’s doing, he crouches behind me, crowding my space, slapping his palm flat against the screen, his face right beside mine. He turns his nose toward me and inhales deeply, like he’s trying to drag every last part of me into his lungs.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s what I thought.”
“What?”
“The scent of your hair, your skin…you. Fuck, it’s enough to make a man lose his mind, and you know what?”
“What?”
“I had to watch that motherfucker smell you like that.”
“He didn’t?—”
“Wrong, baby. I saw him, clear as fucking day.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.” He inhales me again, rougher this time, his face pressing hard into my hair as one large tattooed hand leaves the screen and wraps around my throat. “Doesn’t make it easier. Doesn’t stop the thoughts.”
His grip around my throat tightens, the pressure just enough to make me lightheaded, while cold fingers slide inside my shirtand close around my nipple. I arch into his touch, every thought stripped down to nothing but this need for him to keep his hands on me.
