Vigilant (The Firm #3)

WYLDER

Neo stretches, arching back. I pretend not to notice how his tight shirt rides up with the movement—the one with that ridiculous slogan. A sliver of taut skin appears just below the cotton, and I snap my eyes forward. My fingers tighten on my pen. He’s doing this to taunt me. I know he is.

Having Neo here has been great for the scholarship committee. Terrible for my actual productivity. Over the past two hours, I’ve gotten some things done—tasks for The Firm have been assigned—but despite that, his constant wiggling, sighing, and proximity have distracted me more than not.

He’s leaning closer to me now, his foot pressed against mine, his elbow hanging off the arm of my chair. He seems not to realize how close he is, or if he does, he doesn’t care.