"Of course, if you want to go, you can. As in go to bed or watch TV or run around the house. You can't see François as he and his small crew already left." He sighs. "It's nights like this, unseasonably warm, that I wish there was enough room for a heated saltwater pool."
"You could be like all the rich folk in the mansions and townhouses who have pools in their sub-basements."
"Maybe I do."
"Do you?"
He laughs. "No."
I swallow because I want him. "What are we going to do to entertain ourselves?"
"Steal Lyndall's Xbox and kill some zombies. I hear on the grapevine you're good at that."
I grin. "I had a lot of aggression, Sir."
Next to me, he stills.
I decide to take the leap. "You know,... I do all the office jobs for you, I take dick-tation?—"
He groans. "I'll never live that down."
No, he never will, but I'm alive with sparks and fiery need in my veins.
"—and you made me come out for this business dinner..."
"I did, didn't I?"
"Are you going to touch me again?"
He doesn't move, giving me a long look. "Haven't touched you."
The 'yet' hangs in the air, shimmering, there for the taking.
"Tonight? No. But, Sir. Am I the dessert?"
I keep my gaze on him.
It's like we're fused, and the world falls away, but then he breaks it, dropping his gaze for a moment.
I'm breathing hard when he meets my eyes again.
"Tell you what, Lola. You tell me."
I suck in a deep breath at his giving me a choice, even in the game.
"Do you like dessert?"
"Lola, I fucking love dessert." He pauses. "Should I have some? Because I'm starved."
"You just had dinner."
"And?"
"I think, Sir, you're a bad man and want to have your way with me."
He slides in closer, moving behind me, pressing in. "You need to earn your way if you want that promotion."
Thrills ripple through me.
