Chapter Thirty-Three Grant
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Grant
THE SECOND RAE WALKS in on Monday morning, I know I’m screwed.
She’s wearing her hair up, and I don’t mean in a casually thrown-together bundle like before. No, today, it’s styled into a glass-smooth roll, so intricately twisted up on the back of her head that there is no doubt the move was purposeful.
“Good morning, Grant,” Rae says as she sails into the office, smelling like fall and flowers and the exact scent of woman my body’s aching for. “I brought you a coffee.”
Her smile is sharp. It says I’m done with your bullshit. It says I came to get spanked. It says that I am in deep, deep trouble.
She sets the coffee on my desk, turns, and walks over to the closet, her coat falling from her shoulders in a long, slow slide that shuts down at least half my brain.
“Thank you,” I manage, sounding strangled.
It would take a team of wild horses to force my eyeballs not to stare at her full breasts, round ass, and soft belly, all lovingly encased in something I can only describe as a long, skintight sweater with a row of buttons down the front.
The way it highlights every gorgeous curve and also manages to be work appropriate is some kind of witchcraft. Between that and her hair and the velvety-looking scarf wrapped around her, she is an autumn goddess. All she’s missing is a crown of orange and red leaves.
“What are we celebrating?”
“Oh, you know. Just got a coffee for my office roomie. Figured we could start the week off with a peace offering.”
Is that what this? For some reason, I doubt it.
With a flourish, she removes the scarf from her shoulders, revealing the back of her dress, which swoops low. Very low.
My mouth goes dry.
“What uh…?”
She turns with a bland smile. “Yes, Grant?”
“What, what is that you’re wearing?”
A torture device, designed to crush my innards and turn my brain to mush.
“A dress.” She blinks with pure, sweet innocence. “Like it?”
Yes. The answer is 100 percent yes.
Swallowing provides absolutely no lubrication for my parched tongue. I open my mouth to speak. Close it again.
There is nothing for me to say right now.
Because she’s just thrown down the gauntlet.
And I am in no way prepared.
Throughout the longest day ever, she bends over, twice.
Once to open a low desk drawer she could absolutely have reached from her seat.
The second time, she drops a sheet of paper, I am pretty sure on purpose.
Both times are pure hell, especially when, upon closer inspection, it becomes crystal clear that there is not a single panty line on her body.
Do nothing. Don’t react.
It’s what my survival instincts scream each time Rae moves. Or breathes. With every single inhalation.
It’s now after 6:00 p.m., most everyone’s left the office, but Rae just won’t leave. Right now, she’s very subtly swaying to whatever’s playing in her headphones and licking the frosting off something chocolaty.
I can’t tear my eyes away. From her neck, her back, and the flick of her tongue when she turns subtly to the side like she’s not flaunting every part of her soft, luscious body for my benefit.
Do nothing. Don’t react.
Not easy when the sight of her makes something inside my rib cage twist hard.
She stands and stretches, spins, catches me staring, and blows out a long breath, fanning herself with one hand.
“It’s so hot in here. Are you hot?”
“No,” I growl.
“My goodness.” She undoes a button at her throat and then another, while sashaying over to the printer, all rolling hips and lush ass and—
That’s it. The last straw.
The smoke clears from my brain. I know exactly how to handle this. I unbutton a cuff.
“Rae.”
Her eyes go straight to the sleeve that I’m carefully rolling up, one fold at a time.
“Yeah?” It’s a breathless whisper. The jig is up.
“Close the door,” I tell her, quiet, firm. I sound like myself again, which is reason enough to cross this line.
Her eyes widen briefly. “Excuse me?”
“We’re done playing games now, aren’t we, Sunny?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Oh, I think you do. You absolutely do. Whatever you’re about to say, don’t bother. You win. No more rules.” I finish rolling up my right sleeve, cross one leg over the other, and relax. “Once you’ve shut the door, go ahead and grab the list.”
A pretty pink flush, beginning somewhere below her neckline, has started to crawl up her throat to her face. I’m going to feel how hot that skin is today. Press my mouth to it. Taste it.
Her expression an almost childlike blend of eager and hesitant, Rae walks to the door at a stately pace and closes it. Then she locks it. The sound makes my cock pulse.
I watch the quick rise and fall of her chest as she makes her way to the closet for the list.
The fucking list.
Once the door is open, she looks at me, waiting for instruction.
“Bring it here,” I tell her with a gentleness I can afford now that I know what’s coming.
Just as she tries to give the paper over to me, inspiration strikes. “Crush it. Make it into a ball.”
Her eyes stay on mine as she does it. This time, when she attempts to hand it over, I shake my head, slowly.
Calm. In control.
“Tighter. You’ll want it small.”
Her expression goes almost comically worried, so I ask, “You remember the club safe words?”
She nods so fast I can’t help but smile. “Good. Tell me.”
“Red to stop. Yellow to slow. Green to keep going.”
“Where are you right now?”
“Chartreuse?”
“Is that yellow?”
“It’s green.” I hear the shakiness of her inhalation, the nerves, the excitement. “Bright green.”
“Okay, then. And what do you do if you’re unable to talk and you need to stop?”
She leans over and taps three times on the desk.
“Excellent. Any surface is fine. My face. Your skin. I will hear it, feel it, or see it, and stop. Then I’ll check in with you. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Have a drink of water.”
“What?”
I point at her desk, where there’s a mug with the word Hamilton written across it. “There clean water in there?”
She nods.
“Then drink it.”
With an annoyed little sigh, she picks it up, takes a swig, and at my patient look, swallows the rest down. Then she shows me the inside.
“Thank you. You may put it down.” I suck in a long, deep breath. “Now. The rules go in your mouth.”
“What? No, I—”
“Are we doing this?”
After a moment’s wide-eyed hesitation, Rae stuffs the paper into that gorgeous mouth, wedging it between her teeth.
I’m hard as nails but also calm. Ready.
With a slow sigh, I press on. “Pull the dress up, over your hips. Show me what you’ve got on under there.”