You want a village bitch, I’ll show you one.
Where others are subtle, I call it like I see it. Or, you know, try to piss people off when they’ve made it onto my shit list. Insulting Wilder’s food is my best shot at doing just that.
"You want my feedback? Fine. Your food was mediocre at best, everything I tasted lacked seasoning, and I've had two-day old hot dogs that were more sophisticated."
Making it to the desk in the center of the room, I do my best to ignore his snorts of laughter, until he sobers up and hits back.
“You forget I know what your face looks like when you come.”
If my teeth weren’t ground so tightly together, my jaw might actually unhinge right now. I turn to face him, staring him down so he doesn’t think he’s winning.
“My dishes were more than just ‘fine,’ Boss. If you weren’t halfway to coming when you went back for the second bite of my pot pie?—”
Dammit, I really thought no one noticed that.
“—then I’ll need to refresh on your O face, because I’m damn sure you made it at least a half dozen times today.”
“You must have mistaken it for myI’m about to vomitface. It’s what happens every time I look at you, don’t confuse the two.”
Wilder takes a step closer, his oversized body pressing into my personal space, and my feet move back instinctively, backing me into the desk.
“That right?”
Never once in my life have I been called a small woman, but his thick, 6’5” frame dwarfs me, shadowing me where he hovers above me, and I work down a swallow, determined to keep eye contact with him.
“That’s right.” I nod defiantly.
“So if I slipped my hand inside these jeans right now, you’re telling me you wouldn’t soak my fingers?”
It takes everything in me not to cross my legs and tighten my thighs against the reactions he’s creating in me.
Calling on bravado, my constant fallback, my only companion, I pray it doesn’t let me down.
“Try it and I’ll break your wrist.”
“Fuck, I love when you threaten me, Boss. Gets me hard when you get all feisty on me. You wanna see me come, threaten me with violence,bella.”
His eyes dip down to my lips, which I realize now are wet thanks to my traitorous tongue darting out to lick them as he spoke.
“Bet you taste better than anything I served today.”
“Bet you’re never gonna find out,” I breathe.
“You’ll be willing to put aside that gorgeous pride and ask me for it before long. I’ll be here when you do.”
“Spoken like someone who forgets he only has a trial period through the summer. By the time hell freezes over, you’ll be long gone.”
“I’m a patient man when I know what I want.”
Why is that hot?
My body betrays me, my lips parting, thighs spreading as the desk catches my weight when I slump back onto it.
“Go home, Wilder.”
“Got work to do.”
Strolling around to the table along one wall that serves as an overflow administrative workspace, I try not to watch those broad shoulders and thick thighs as he settles in on the stool with some paperwork.
