My lips curve. "So did you, Red."
A low sound leaves him as he stands, reaches for his clothes, and dresses with careful precision. Every movement carries tension, restraint layered over desire, and it only sharpens the ache curling through me. When he finishes, he steps back to the bed, leans down, and presses a brief kiss to my forehead. It's gentle, grounding, and intimate in a way that makes my chest tighten. He murmurs, "Have a good day."
I lift my chin and catch his mouth before he can pull away, keeping the kiss soft but intentional. His lips part instinctively, then still, breath stalling against mine.
I offer, "You too. And don't worry. I'll be fine."
Heavy conflict flickers in his gaze before he straightens and leaves. The door clicks shut behind him, quiet and final, and I lie there staring at the ceiling long after his footsteps fade.
I glance at the clock and sit up in bed.
Time to get out of bed.
I turn on a playlist of love songs and sing while I go through the motions, getting ready for work, replaying every moment I spent with him in blissful glee. The entire way to the office, I can't get the feeling of his erection against my ass out of my mind.
Work barely registers. I complete tasks in a trance while my thoughts continue to race with sharp, vivid flashes.
I feel all of it. The weight of him wrapped around me, and the steady heat of his erection pressed into my back, only intensifies until it's so real, he could be right behind me. The control in his voice when he pulled himself away won't fade. Every time I shift in my chair, the memories drag right through me, leaving me restless with a buzzing beneath my skin.
By midmorning, focus snaps into place with sudden clarity.
It's time.
I rush home before my lunch break, dressing with intention. I choose blush that whispers instead of screams. The silk hugs my skin in a way that feels both innocent and dangerous. I glance at my reflection in the mirror and re-tie the side strings on my panties several times. Once they're perfect, I slip a minidress over me, happy with how composed and confident I appear. Whatever Red thinks I can't handle, I'm about to show him exactly how wrong he is and why I'm the only woman for him.
Within an hour of leaving the office, I'm standing outside his office building, my pulse steady and resolve locked in. I take the stairs to Red's floor, then stay around the corner until Shirley exits and locks the door.
Yes! I knew she'd need to take a lunch break!
She locked the door. Red must be gone, too!
It's all too perfect. I move farther around the corner until she disappears in the elevator.
My adrenaline spikes. I slip my hand into my bag, close my fingers around the tension wrench I always keep in my purse, and hightail it to the door. I glance around to make sure no one is in the hall, then crouch down and stick the cool metal into the keyhole.
The first click is the kind of vibration you feel in your bones. I tilt my head, listening, adjusting the wrench by instinct rather than thought, letting memory and patience do the work. Another faint shift answers me.
My mouth curves, and I keep my eyes on the door as if it might flinch. The final give comes with a quiet surrender, the latch easing under my touch. I still my hands, count a beat, then press the handle down and slip inside, closing and relocking the door behind me with the same care I used to open it.
Shirley's desk is empty, and Red's office door stands ajar. I slip inside, keeping the door as it was, and my eyes dart around the room.
What's the best position to be in when he enters?
I slink down in the chair Red sits in when he's not at his desk and drape my leg over it, then straighten, crossing my legs.
Not the right position.
I study the room again, and my eyes catch the hourglass. I rise, go behind his desk, and flip it. The blue sand falls, mesmerizing me to the point I briefly forget why I'm here. So much time passes that more than half of the sand has settled to the bottom of the globe.
I flip it again, just as Red's voice hits my ears.
"Do you have the rest of the folders for my afternoon appointments?"
My head jerks toward the door. Panic sets in.
"I had to get more ink. I'll bring them as soon as printing resumes," Shirley states.
"Thank you," Red says, closer to the door.
