Chapter 17
JULIAN
Dragging the back of my finger along my upper lip as I sit back behind my desk, I read over my screen. I’m not sure if I like the direction or wording of the document. It’s a stiff minute before I drag my sight up to face Savannah standing in front of my desk, patiently waiting for my reaction.
To my surprise, well, utter amazement, really.
When we’re in the office, we are simply two people at work, and we leave our personal dynamic at the door.
I should pat myself on the back that I haven’t attempted to bend her over my desk even once, and it’s been a week since our trip.
Hell, even that flirtatious banter that we had before I knocked on her door has vanished. But it all comes down to one reason.
I have her.
I shouldn’t have shown up at her bedroom door, not with the risk hanging between us.
One that neither of us had prepared for.
But I showed up because I couldn’t stop myself.
Inside me, there’s been a thin layer of fragile ice.
I’ve built up my walls for reasons, yet with Savannah, they’re wearing thin.
All the more reason to be guarded, but that policy sits in the back of my mind.
Every time our feet leave the office, she’s in my life differently. An instant switch where professional us gets left behind and we do whatever the hell we please.
Right now, though? I’m going to be critical, and I won’t have a shred of remorse.
“Rewrite the second paragraph, the schedule doesn’t make sense, and if I have to repeat once more that I don’t want Harold from accounts in on the meeting, my level of pissed-off will reach new heights.”
We have a new client meeting tomorrow, and a simple agenda has turned into a headache because they’re so demanding. Every single person in middle management feels they need to be present, and senior management wants to give them a chance.
She rolls her eyes and grumbles to herself, “Compromise. Give them a nibble of the big fish.”
Creases form on my forehead, and I’m not sure if it’s because of her odd reference or the fact that she used nibble and big in the same sentence. “No,” I affirm my wish tersely.
She throws her arms up into the air. “Fine. I’ll be the bad guy and email Harold and his boss. Because that’s not going to make him go home and complain to his wife at dinner about how he isn’t understood.” Savannah is a little annoyed and satirical.
I straighten my back and shut my laptop screen. “You know, delivering my thoughts to others in a tactful way is part of your job, right?”
“Of course it is. If we had you doing that, half the company would be in tears.”
I’ve often heard that having a woman in one’s life could soften a man. Unfortunately for the world, ruthlessness is too imprinted inside me. I don’t even glance at her; instead, I sweep my eyes to my phone to check the time. Tonight can’t be a late office day, as I have places to be.
Noticing that Savannah hasn’t left aggravates me, as I don’t need any delays.
My eyes peer up at her unimpressed look.
“Chop, chop, Savannah. The clock says you should let them know now before the end of the business day.” I lean back and rest my elbows on the armrest while I steeple my fingers.
“Again, I expect everyone at Haven Crossroads to be a 9-to-5 kind of employee.”
Her brows rise. “Wow. You really are a piece of work this afternoon.”
“And?” I merely reply.
She sighs, and her cheeks puff out. “Fine. I’ll go be the messenger of doom.”
I plaster on a fake smile for her. “Much obliged.”
The next hour, I managed to work my way through three calls.
One of which lasted only a minute when I cut them off because I wasn’t going to listen to another word.
I quickly type a message to my driver so he knows to wait for me downstairs.
I grab my suit blazer from the coat rack next to my door.
When I open the door, Savannah takes no notice of me, as she is focused on writing something on her pink Post-It note.
Walking to her desk, I grab some fruit snacks from her jar, and she still ignores me.
“Ms. May, I believe it is time to leave the office.”
She glances up, but her pen continues to write on the paper.
“Sure. Give me a sec. Need to remind myself that when I arrange coffee for tomorrow’s meeting, I should be careful not to use the jar of poison that I sometimes contemplate using for your drinks.
” Her little quip makes her grimace to herself, and I fight my smile.
“Now, you wouldn’t do that. You have many reasons not to,” I remind her lightheartedly. Maybe that's enough of a cue that it’s time to leave the day behind.
Savannah drops her pen and neatly moves a few things on her desk. “Fine.”
“See you in five,” I tell her, and then routinely leave.
And five minutes later, she is sliding into the back seat of the car waiting at the service entrance.
She’s quick to put her seatbelt on, but I stop her even though the car begins to move. My hand stays put on her wrist.
“Uh, safety first,” she chastises me.
“You’ll only need to take it off,” I inform her.
That warm smile of hers begins to spread. “We are not having sex in the car.” She felt awkward about it the first time, considering my driver is in the front, behind the dark partition. But it was a must-do, a rite of passage, as crazy as that sounds.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, baby. We have places to be.”
“Really?” She’s confused. “I thought we were leaving work to order in and take it easy because you have a call with Hong Kong at nine.”
That’s what my nights have become. Dinners at my place or a hidden corner in a restaurant. Either way, we end up having sex. Getting to know which positions we enjoy has been an excellent use of time.
My fingers crawl up her arm, and I watch their movement. “I changed our plans, and we won’t be staying in because I have a surprise for you.”
Our eyes meet, and she’s curious. “Oh?”
I’m well aware that I’ve hit a snag in our dynamic. This evening’s idea came on a whim—or not a whim. It’s not clear why I’m about to make her smile, only that I want to. Show her that I’ve paid attention to the finer details from the start, and it matters.
“Yeah. I forgot that I had donated once to the ballet here in the city, and they have a special performance with the Paris ballet visiting. You mentioned you used to go with your aunt.”
She titters a laugh. “The ballet? You?”
I go along with her teasing. “Yes, me.”
She almost seems skeptical, yet that smile I love crawls on her face. “We’re going to the ballet?”
“Yes. We even have discreet box seats. Nobody will notice us.”
“Wow, okay.” She gives herself the once-over. “But can we swing by my place? I’m in my work clothes and would rather be in something that doesn’t scream office.”
I boop her nose with my finger. “No time, babe. Now look on the floor.”
Her eyes search the car’s interior, and she spots the white box with a dark green ribbon. “What’s this?”
“A dress.”
She sputters a laugh as she eyes the box. “You bought me a dress?”
I shift in my seat and angle myself toward her because she’s a tad more astonished than I was going for. “It’s not so crazy.”
“Uh, it kind of is. First, I have now seen you as a decent human, but it’s… Well, I don’t think it crossed my mind that you could be a hopeless romantic.”
That word, as a compliment, scares the hell out of me, but hearing it feels like praise, which I’m enjoying.
“Neither did I. Now open the box,” I instruct.
She unties the satin bow. “How did you even get this? I mean, to guess my size and pick something out.” The ribbon falls onto the seat between us, but I quickly sweep it up because I might need it later.
I look at her like she’s crazy. “Your size? I believe my eyes and tongue have measured every inch of you. And as for the dress? I paid money and had someone from the store choose based on a photo of you.”
“Geez, you really thought it out.” She lifts the lid and pulls away the tissue paper, and I realize my bank account really did pay off because the brightness on her face from a gushing smile is worth it as she lifts the dress out of the box.
It’s black, classic, off-the-shoulder, and if my request is fulfilled, it means she’ll be showing a little of her back that my hand will cover.
She might be cold, but there is something that kind of inflames inside me when she wears my blazer around her shoulders to stay warm.
“Put it on.”
Savannah moves to the edge of her seat and finds the zipper of her work dress, quickly pulling it down and off.
“Fuck me,” I curse myself and bite my curled fist to hold myself back as I drink up the scene of Savannah left in a black lace thong.
I miscalculated how a simple outfit change would take us off course.
“How am I not supposed to lick you right now?” I move to drag my lips along the smooth curve of her shoulder.
Even with her mesh lace bra, I see the tips of her breasts are pointy.
“Julian,” her voice vibrates.
The palm of my hand is flat against her belly and slides down, causing her to lean back.
“I need to check something.” My voice is thick with desire, nor does she shoo me away as my fingers dip into her panties.
She croons for me as the tips of my fingers feel her wet heat.
Her body goes slack as she moans. “Nice and wet for me. Spread your legs.” My request is direct.
I love it when she obeys. “Julian.” Her whisper has a hint of warning right before she moves, pushing her hand against my chest, causing me to abandon her pussy and sit normally in my seat. Well, somewhat, because she’s quick to straddle me.
“We don’t have time, remember?” she taunts me as she circles her pussy around my cock that’s hard underneath my pants. “Now help me get dressed.”
She lifts the dress from the box and finds the bottom.
Raising her arms, she lifts them over her head.
I assist in sheathing the material down the curves of her body until the smoothness of the satin bunches around her waist due to its length.
Her naughty smile, as she stares into my eyes, fades into something else.
It’s new, yet promising. It mirrors my mood.
We don’t break contact even while I slowly drag the zipper on the side up.
Savannah lifts her hair over her shoulder, and she musses the strands with her fingers.
It gives me a prime opportunity to kiss slowly up from her cleavage along the line of her neck, only to stop when I reach her chin.
Savannah loops her arms around my neck, and the quiet around us is calming. “I don’t want to use the word sweet that you arranged this all. We know how you hate the word sweet.”
I swipe her loose hair behind her ear. “As I said, I remember you mentioned once coming to the city with your aunt and watching the ballet.”
She half-smirks. “Now I’m 100% using the word sweet.”
“I’ll allow it. I’ll spank you for it later, though,” I say, right before I steal a deep kiss from her.
The idea to do all of this came out of left field for me, yet as soon as I thought it out, I had to get the wheels in motion. Excitement was too intense. I want her to be happy, and due to me would be a bonus.
She jabs my chest with her finger. “So, Mr. Romantic, what are we seeing?”
“Giselle,” I announce casually, and continue to watch my fingers feather down her arm.
She sputters a laugh, and I look up at her, confused about what I did. “You do realize the story of that ballet, right?”
I shake my head. “No. Do I look like someone who would?” Savannah’s laugh should concern me, but it’s good to hear and see—it swings our work life even further away.
“It’s about a rich man who seduces a peasant,” she deadpans. “A little familiar, no?” I’m amused, and my grin must show it. “He betrays her, and she heads to the forest and joins women scorned. She’s heartbroken.”
My face turns sour. “Yikes.”
“Is this some foreshadowing of my destiny? Should I be worried?”
I scoff at the thought. “Absolutely not.”
She pretends to wipe away sweat from her forehead. “Phew. Please don’t leave me scorned and cause me to disappear into a forest.”
My hands move to her back, and I lift my hips, causing her thighs to tighten around me. “Don’t you worry,” I promise.
And I’m scared how desperately I want to mean it.