10. KAYLA
10
I s he maybe seeing someone?
At eight in the morning? No, probably not.
Maybe he secretly is doing hot yoga and he doesn’t want me to crash his course?
Walking down the street of Atlanta, I enjoy the February sun warming my face. Our daily car rides to the office have been a good way to start my day, but he told me this weekend that I will have to find my own way to work every Wednesday morning, so now I’m marching through the city at a comfortable pace.
I’m not a natural walker, but I’m appreciating the twenty-minutes to wake up and take in the city while I think about what Bodi could possibly be doing at this hour.
He’s been really cryptic about it and my curiosity is killing me, making it my mission to find out what it is. It’s clearly not work-related or it wouldn’t be a secret and I’ve wondered if he was an alcoholic out loud, but I took his silent scowl as a no.
Right now, I’m torn between yoga and fight club, but that could also be the fact that I like to imagine him all sweaty with messy hair.
Head. Gutter. Out.
Or maybe there is some special edition sneaker launch, and he wants to be first in the queue, because let me tell you something; the man is obsessed with sneakers.
He won’t let me peek into his closet, mumbling something about me not allowed in his bedroom when I asked, but so far he’s been wearing a different set of shoes every single day.
The memory puts a smile on my cheeks, thinking about how I seem to tick him off. My daily flirts are starting to make him go crazy, fueling my motivation. He rarely replies, just growls, but he always answers them with an undeniably amused look and, well, it’s too fun to stop.
He can pretend our chemistry died over the winter, but I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel just as excited about him as I did when we met last summer.
I want him.
Badly.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pick up, my eyes flashing over the screen.
“Morning, cuz.”
“So,” Rae starts with a giddy voice, “is it amazing?”
“Are we talking about Bodi’s dick or the job?”
“Jesus, Keeks. You already slept with him?”
“No.” I laugh, pleased she’s falling for my trap until I realize what she’s saying. “What do you mean already ? You don’t think I can keep it professional?”
I roll my eyes at my own comment, because we all know I won’t if it would be up to me. I’m genuinely confusing myself at this point.
“Oh, please. You wanna tell me you haven’t tried to get into his pants yet?”
“I haven’t!” I screech, a little offended. Not at full speed anyway.
“You haven’t flirted with him?” Her tone reveals her disbelief, and I can’t help the playful grin tugging at the corner of my lip.
“Puh-lease!” I pause. “Every fucking day. The man is too responsible for his own good.”
Her laughter reverberates through the phone. “You’re torturing him, aren’t you?”
“As much as I can. I mean, I get we can’t go bunny hopping on his desk, but I’m freaking staying in his guestroom. I don’t see why we can’t get it on in my bed. He can even strut out of there when it’s time for bed for all I care.”
I mean that. I’m not trying to be his girlfriend. I’m just trying to get more memories in my mental spank bank with the man who still has me dreaming about his lips between my legs. He really is a sex god.
“You’re awful, Kayla. He’s your boss.”
“I know!” No one ever fucking makes me forget.
“Not to mention, you’re nineteen.”
“So? That wasn’t an issue last summer.”
“I don’t think he wants his employees to find out he has had an affair with his nineteen-year-old assistant.” Well, if she’s going to put it like that. “Besides, you’re here for the job. What if you and Bodi cross that line and it doesn’t end well? I get why he’s hesitant.”
“I know,” I concede. “It’s just fun fucking with his head.” It’s something that comes natural to me, my mouth blurting out things to grow closer to him. Physically, but also mentally.
I walk into the office building, heading straight for the elevator.
“Anyway,” she drawls. Oh, shit . She needs something. “Now that you got your finger in the honeypot... I was wondering if you could do something for me?”
“Finger in the honeypot? Is that a real expression?” I scrunch my nose until my dirty mind moves a step up. “Although, it sounds sexy? Have you ever tried it with Jensen? Oh no, stop. Don’t answer that.”
“For fuck’s sake, Keeks. Get your head out of the gutter.”
I push the elevator button, hissing, “That would be an option if your friend would give me some.”
“My friend is your boss !” Fuck, everyone keeps crushing my fantasies.
“Don’t remind me. What do you want?”
“I need you to read Charlotte’s book.”
My brows fold together. “Charlotte? Charlotte who?” The words fall from my tongue and at the same moment, I realize who she’s talking about. “You mean Charlotte Hansen?” I ask, referring to the wife of MMA champion Hunter Hansen, one of Jensen’s friends. We’ve met a few times, the last time being over Thanksgiving. Or Friendsgiving , how Rae called it. “No. I like Charlotte. What if I hate her book? You read it.”
“I have read it. It’s really good. But I’m not an editor.”
“Err, newsflash? Neither am I.” The doors open, and I get on the elevator, pressing the button to the top floor. Talking about another crushed fantasy.
“You have studied English lit.”
“Ehmm, I’m sorry? Did you forget the part where I dropped out of Stanford? We all know how that worked out.”
“Dropped out? I thought you failed?”
Fuck.
“Same thing. Either way, I’m not qualified. I’m just a PA. Besides, isn’t Bodi a friend of Hunter’s as well? Why doesn’t he set up a meeting for his wife?”
“Because she wants to do it without him. She doesn’t even know I’m asking this. She’s planning to send it to a bunch of publishers. Please, Keeks. She doesn’t want to send it to Bodi, but I think it might be his next bestseller.”
I bite my tongue for a moment, bringing my gaze up to the ceiling. “You do realize Bodi would probably do it for you anyway?”
“But that’s the thing. I don’t want him to publish it out of pity.”
I see a lot of issues in this whole situation, but I like to read, I like Charlotte, and well, I love my Rae.
“What if I hate it?” I’m sure Charlotte wants honesty, but I still don’t like the idea of telling her I don’t like her book.
“I’m not even telling her you’re going to read it.”
Okay, that works.
“So what are you suggesting?”
“Read it. Tell me what you think, and if you think it’s good enough, convince Bodi to read it without telling him it’s Charlotte’s,” she explains, her voice laced with victory.
“Fine. Send it over.” I give in. “But promise you won’t tell Charlotte I’m reading it.”
“I promise!”
“Good. I gotta go now. Talk later.” Without waiting for another reply, I hang up and saunter out of the elevator, waving at the woman sitting behind the desk across from mine.
“Good morning, Agnes!”
She smiles at me from under her glasses before her eyes rake up and down my body. We’ve clicked over the last few days. She might be forty years my senior, but the woman is fun to be around.
“Good morning, honey. You look nice today.” I glance down at my denim skirt, combined with a white t-shirt tucked into my waist, all finished off by my denim jacket.
“Thank you. You look dashing yourself.”
When I’m sixty, I want to look like Agnes. She might be old enough to be my mother, but I swear I could have fun in her wardrobe. The other day, she wore a stylish leather jacket like she was born in it, and she rocks sneakers every day.
Who does that when you’re above fifty? Wearing them, sure, but rocking them is a whole different story.
“Where did you leave the boss?” Her gaze darts back to the elevator, expecting Bodi to follow behind me like he normally does.
“He had somewhere to be. I walked here.”
“Walked? Isn’t that a bit far?”
I raise a foot up in the air. “I got my Nikes on. I can walk miles with these babies,” I tell her, bringing my foot back down. “It was a nice way to start my day, actually. I think I might do it more often.”
Agnes scoffs, and I give her a questioning look.
“I doubt Mr. McKay will agree to that.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to have his car all to himself again. I’m chatty in the morning.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Heads up, he’s not.”
Agnes laughs before I amble toward my desk mirrored to hers at the other side of the area.
“Besides, he can’t tell me what to do,” I explain. I sit down on my chair and start my computer. “Just like no one can tell him what to do. He’s pretty stubborn.”
“Yet you seem to be telling him what to do all the time.”
I peek my head above the screen. “Me?”
She nods with a knowing look on her face.
“Ha! That may look like that, but trust me, he doesn’t listen to a word I’m saying.”
If he did, I’d fall asleep with orgasm fogs each night.
“I think you’re underestimating your influence on Mr. McKay.”
I purse my lips, glancing at his office door, then throw my head beside my desktop to look at Agnes. “Maybe, but I don’t have enough persuasion for him to tell me where he’s off to every Wednesday morning.” I give her a questioning look that she matches with one of her own.
“What are you talking about?”
“He told me that I have to get to work without him every Wednesday morning. He has some kind of thing.”
“Ah,” she says, tilting her head a little, “and now you want to know what it is?”
My curiosity is literally killing me at this point.
“Desperately,” I breathe out without shame, shooting her my most endearing smile with fluttering lashes.
“Don’t look at me, girl. I have no clue. He still arrives between nine and ten every morning, so I never thought to ask.”
“Oh, come on, Agnes! You must have some clue?” I whine.
“No idea.”
Dammit.
I guess I just have to find out for myself then.
***
I’m sitting on the couch with my legs spread out in front of me, the remote sitting on my lap while I watch Love Is Blind. Bodi dropped me off after work, telling me he was going to grab us some food, and I’ve been waiting for him with a roaring stomach ever since.
I tried prying a little more when he arrived at the office at nine thirty, but the man bent as much as steel. Making him cave, to anything for that matter, is going to be a bigger challenge than it was last summer.
Doesn’t he know you’re supposed to have a spine before you start sleeping together instead of after?
When the key in the lock and the front door opens, my nose instantly registers the smell of a delicious amount of grease and my neck stretches with an expecting smile.
“What did you bring?” I ask, feeling hopeful.
His gaze lands on mine and a mischievous grin raises the corner of his mouth. Slogging toward me, he holds up the bag and I clap like a seal when I notice the red and white Wendy’s bag while I pull myself a bit up to sit cross-legged.
YAY! But wait…
“You brought Wendy’s?” I question as something churns through my stomach.
He sits down beside me, kicking off his shoes. “Yeah.”
“But you hate Wendy’s.”
“I don’t hate it,” he argues as he pulls out the food from the bag. “I’m just not a complete fan.”
I keep my eyes trained on his face until he slowly turns his head to me.
“You hate it,” I announce.
The man despises junk food, and he doesn’t waste any shot to remind me.
His eyes roll, and I chuckle at the ridiculous look on his handsome face. “Fine, I hate it. But I ordered some fries and a salad.”
“What?” I screech incredulously. “You can’t order a salad at Wendy’s!”
“I’m pretty sure I just did.”
He hates it. But he still ordered it for me . Is it weird that my heart is thundering in my chest as I hold his gaze?
“No,” I argue. “I mean, who orders a salad at Wendy’s?”
“I did.” He gives me a dull look.
“You’re crazy. Don’t tell me you ordered me a salad too because you and I are going to have issues.”
Keeping his attention on me, he blindly pulls out a burger and hands it over.
“Thank you,” I purr, my lashes fluttering, causing his head to wag. “So, how was your meeting this morning?” My eyebrows waggle.
“What meeting?” He pops a fry into his mouth, then leans back on the couch with the container of French fries in his lap.
“The one that made me walk to the office this morning.”
“Ah, that one. You really can’t let it go, can you?” He smirks, and I keep a straight face in reply. “It was good.”
“Yeah? How good?”
“Pretty good.”
“So you would say it was a success?” I push, bringing an entertained glint to flash in his eyes. What the fuck is such a big secret?
“You can put it like that.”
“But you’re not going to tell me?”
“Are you going to tell me why you’re not at Stanford right now?”
Touche.
“No,” I snort. His eyes narrow in suspicion, his jaw ticking.
“You’re such a curious little thing,” he muses as he continues eating.
I shrug, taking another bite from my burger before I reply. “Maybe.”
“I bet there is this burning desire that just makes you want to scream because you have no clue.”
“There is, but that seems to be your specialty. Making me burn with desire.” Our gazes stay locked, and the tension rises at my suggestive remark.
“What do you mean, Kayla?” His expression darkens.
“You know exactly what I mean.” My tongue darts out, licking my lips as I never divert my attention. “But I don’t mind showing you.”
It would be wise to shove this version of me back in her cage, but you know what? Fuck it. Let’s see how long he can keep this up, because I’m ready to cave.
He clears his throat, shifting on the couch while closing his eyes for a moment. I witness how the muscles in his body tense, and I rein in my smile. When he opens them again, he gives me a stern look that only makes that smile take over.
“Kayla.”
“Just putting it out there,” I say, then put my focus back on the TV to give him a moment to regroup while the giddy feeling inside of me continues to grow bigger within seconds. I finish my burger with my eyes set on the screen even though I’m not following a word they are saying while Bodi does the same. When he sets his empty container on the table, he leans his elbows on his knees.
“What are you watching?” He frowns, though his body is a little more relaxed than it was. Steel . This man is made of steel.
I hold back a laugh, my point of his lack of focus by the fact that he’s only now asking what I’m watching, even though he’s been staring at the TV for minutes.
“Love Is Blind.”
I throw the leftover paper back in the bag, my eyes never leaving Bodi’s.
“You watch that shit?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. McKay,” I mock. “Doesn’t this meet your standard?”
“It’s dumb people, in a dumb show, to get their three minutes of fame. Definitely doesn’t meet my standard.”
“Mr. McKay, sooo condescending,” I tease. “What do you wanna watch, then?”
“Something more intelligent.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
He leans over, grabbing the remote sitting next to me. His hand moves close to my ankle and I can smell the wax in his hair that’s acting like a damn aphrodisiac.
I straighten my back, slowly breathing out through my nose to calm the burning feeling between my thighs. My instinct tells me to jump him like a mountain lion, knowing deep down he wants me just as much as I want him. But instead, I just keep purring at my side of the couch like a well-mannered kitten.
I hate being well-mannered.
Trent wanted me well-mannered, and we know how that worked out.
He keeps his attention on me as he settles into the corner of the couch, his arms draped over the back of the piece of furniture while he starts to zip through the channels. My legs stretch like before as I bring my feet close to his legs. I do my best to push my horny self somewhere else, but she refuses to leave now that our bodies are almost touching. My eyes peer at the screen, barely registering anything until, finally, it stops.
“The Dark Knight!” he yelps enthusiastically, and I give him a blank expression.
“How is that more intelligent?”
“It’s not, but at least it has a good plot instead of a bucketload of stupid drama.”
“You’re such a guy.”
“You’re such a teenager,” he counters, though his expression is teasing.
Bastard.
“Ouch. Don’t be a dick. Teenager or not,” I say as I slouch on the couch to rub the side of his jeans with my toes, “you know you want me.”
He grinds his teeth while I keep going until he snatches my ankle and I let out a startled shriek. I’m so going to make him break his own rules.
“You’re playing with fire, babe.”
“I’m aware,” I taunt.
“Kayla.” My name comes out with another reprimanding growl, but just like any other moment in the last few days, it does nothing to hold me back. It only functions as a vibration speaking to the aching of my pussy, wanting him to grunt my name when he’s buried deep inside of me.
“Bodi,” I reply like a cocky bitch.
His lips are firmly pressed together as he breathes out through his nose, never loosening his grip on my ankle. I stay quiet, waiting for him to say anything, and when his thumb slowly starts to stroke my skin, I inwardly moan in victory, thinking he’ll go for it. But instead, he twists his neck, giving me a dark gaze.
“We can’t do this,” he scolds.
“Why not?” I throw my hands in the air.
We clearly both want it.
“Kayla.”
Frustrated, I grunt, then pull my feet from his grasp. “You’re being stubborn.”
“And you’re relentless.” His tone is quick and sharp, but I still can see the faint smile that’s sitting on his lips. “Let’s watch the movie,” he offers while his features soften a little.
“How long are you going to keep this up?”
“As long as I have to.”
“What about when I quit?”
His expression changes to something more irritated, a hint of fear flashing alongside it. “Why would you quit?”
“I don’t know.” I don’t want to quit, but my mind keeps wanting to explore the desire I feel for Bodi. I’m not going to give up an amazing job just so I can sleep with him, but I’m just curious if that’s the only reason he won’t give in to this.
To us .
It’s not my age, because if that was it, he wouldn’t have slept with me last summer.
I get that he’s my boss at the office, but he’s not in the four walls of his condo.
I can keep the two separate.
“Just watch the movie,” he orders, changing the subject.
The sigh that erupts from my lungs is long, and filled with annoyance.
I do as he says, hoping the tension in my organs settles down a little.
After a while, it does, but I can’t help finding myself trailing back to the man beside me every few minutes.
I came here for a job, a job I’m very grateful for. I had every intention of keeping this professional, but the more time I spend with him, the more I crave him.
Within twenty-four hours, I couldn’t deny to myself how much I wanted to feel his lips against mine. If we were just working together, I might have been able to pull it off, but staying in his guestroom, sharing every minute of my free time with him, it’s fucking with my head.
It makes me want to jump him every second of every day, and not giving in to that feeling becomes more impossible by the minute.