I cleared my throat and tried to smile at him. I’d forsaken the gesture a long time ago. “Can I help you?”
His smile crinkled at the corners of his mouth and deep, brown eyes. A shameless smile because he must have known the effect he had on people. “I think you have my thongs.”
CHAPTER 2
Fabio
Two things I’d seen for the first time today. The inside of a publishing house and a woman frowning while I flashed my mastered to perfection stage smile at her.
It was only when I stood and moved my arm, bringing her dress bag to her sight and then unzipping it, that her eyes widened and sparkled behind sexy librarian glasses.
“Are you looking for this?” I asked.
She clasped her hands in front of her face in a tiny prayer, her face contorting as if she was going to cry. “Oh my God. Yes. You’re a lifesaver.”
Why a woman would cry happy tears over clothes or shoes or food was beyond any guy’s understanding. But it was part of the appeal, and it made my job easier. Find her favorite chocolate flavor, get the shoes that hugged her toes, let her ride my face for as long as she wanted, do the right amount of cock wiggling before fucking her into oblivion, or in this case, bring back her perfect black dress, and I became a hero. A lifesaver. Imprinted into her subconscious to fuck in her dreams, sleeping or awake. Or if she was adventurous enough to get the real deal…
I might sound too cocky, but they didn’t call me Fab onstage and off for no reason. I earned it. My five-star reviews were enough proof.
“You have an excellent taste. It’s a beautiful dress,” I said. She was beautiful, too. Long, jet black hair. Bold red lipstick on a little thin for my taste lips, but they were still hot. Blue eyes too beautiful to be hiding behind glasses—even though the sexy librarian look suited her a lot, along with her monochrome blouse and pencil skirt. In heels, she stood an inch shorter than I was; I’d say she was five feet six without them.
Her neck was elegant, like she was. The open top button didn’t offer much of a view, and her bra choice was unflattering. With a better bra, she could be rocking that department. It was hard to think of a woman who would perfect her lips with the right shade of hot red and neglect her boobs. Was she wearing the wrong bra on purpose?
“Oh, thank you. Your um…” She pointed to her left, to what I assumed was her office, her cheeks turning pink. “Yourlaundryis in there.”
I chuckled, and her little, manicured fingers reached for the dress bag. “Let me take this.”
All this time, she wasn’t taking her eyes off the dress and wasn’t looking at me at all. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. Wasn’t I the lifesaver? I gave her a compliment, too, and it was real. The least she could do was acknowledge me.C’mon, give me that look you’re giving to that black piece of fabric.
Instead, once she secured the precious treasure in her arms, she blessed me with the view of her ass. I looked. Ogled. I’d seen enough asses in all shapes and sizes to stop me from acting like the asshole I was being now, but I didn’t care. What she lacked in the chest she made up for in that…perfection.
I followed her into the office, enjoying myself more than I should have. Fuck it. I liked big butts and I couldn’t lie. And…one didn’t simply wear a pencil skirt and not expect people to look at their ass. Yeah, I totally said that in Ned Stark’s voice.
Fuck. I was hard. I didn’t even know her name, and I was hard just looking at her delicious curves. I spent hours with packs of women grabbing at my business and nothing happened. Self-control and all that shit I had to learn. But here I was, maypole stiff for a sexy librarian with the most perfect ass I’d ever seen, who wouldn’t even look me in the face.
With a swift move, I adjusted my dick, but shit I was in sweatpants. There was so much you could hide in those. If she turned around, she could totally see.
That was if she decided to finally grace me with proper eye contact. With that I meant sneaking a peek at my dick.
I left everything the way it was. Maybe that was the only way to get her to appreciate me as she should. I bet she would. Those gray sweatpants videos didn’t go viral if women didn’t watch. She must have seen the thongs, too. Wasn’t she a little bit curious?
Why did I care? She was one woman. So what if she didn’t go all weak in the knees at my smile or make up any excuse to touch me or assess the good stuff?
Fuck, I did have an inflated ego. Two minutes with this…elegant, hot, irritating, dress loving woman had offended it. Pierced it.
She hung up the dress bag on a coat hanger stand where a big, black purse dangled from it. “Can I offer you something to drink, Mr. …?”
“Fab.”
She glanced at me over her shoulder, cocking a brow. “Fab?”
I nodded, giving her a crooked smile.
She frowned. Why the fuck would she frown? What was wrong with her? “Do you have a last name?”
A snort flew out of my mouth in frustration. “Zappa, but I prefer Fab…or Fabio.”
She carefully stepped away from the dress. “What would you like to drink, Mr. Zappa?”
