18. Haelyn
EIGHTEEN
HAELYN
I took a sharp intake of breath, my eyes jumping away from his face as I registered the blush creeping on my cheeks and neck. Mr. Grave’s exhale brushed my skin, warm enough to make me forget about the cold season and focus on the way my thighs squeezed together.
Did he say what I thought he said?
That he was entertained by the idea of me giving him a blowjob and by my crimson flush? The roiling in my stomach made it clear that the feeling was mutual, just the simple thought of those strong hands cascading over my body sent a shiver right between the spot between my legs.
This was wrong on so many levels. Mr. Graves was my boss and I was nothing but an employee to him, an asset if anything—though, I wouldn’t go that far—but nothing more. Unlike the other girls who worked for him, including Sara, I wasn’t working for him to get into his bed. I was doing it because, surprisingly, it was something I liked and I could see my future self pursuing this career whether it was beside him or not.
Plus, I was building a thing with Chad. A thing I came to doubt these past few days. But it was my fault, not his. I kept dreaming about my boss with open eyes while I was actively talking to him.
God, I was a bad person.
Chad was a great guy. He was open-minded, sweet, and careful, but he also never tried to take whatever was going on between us forward. He was more than okay with our chats and maybe it was my fault I didn’t make it clear that I was looking for… more.
So, fantasizing about my boss right in front of his face while I talked in a romantic manner with someone else was goddamn wrong.
My hands ran on top of each other as my teeth sank into the strawberry gum. Finding my words seemed impossible.
How could one possibly respond to what he said?
I cleared my throat, attempting to look at him, but my eyes left his face as soon as they landed on it. “I—” I tried while he stood tall in front of me.
Damn you, Merielle . I took a mental note to punish her for putting me in this position. While I’ve grown to know her so well and to get used to this side of her, I didn’t think a complete stranger like Mr. Graves could digest her jokes the way I or our friends did.
“She was just fooling around.” I gestured with a hand, rolling my eyes in forced amusement. A strangled laugh passed past my lips and finally, I succeeded in making eye contact with my boss.
His eyebrows were in a straight line, his green eyes darkening on me as he stepped closer. “So was I,” he replied, but I could almost see a reflection of us getting naked inside his pupils, his words in contrast with his mind.
The thought swirled rapid fire in my stomach, every cell of my body burning with the promise of his gaze. If eyes could talk, he would be whispering dangerous and dirty words I could only imagine.
No.
I swallowed, my traitor glance settling on his lips. “Right, because that would be so inappropriate,” I managed to croak out, unconsciously stepping back.
It wasn’t because I wanted to run away from him, but because the look in his eyes made me want to jump on him and I needed distance to make sure that didn’t happen.
Finally, I took a sharp inhale, the cold air bringing me back to my senses and giving me some clarity. This time, Mr. Graves didn’t come any closer to my proximity and kept his feet on the ground with a subtle smirk on his mouth.
He nodded, then stretched a hand toward his car. “So inappropriate.” But the way his tongue clicked shut in the middle of the sentence told me he bit down his last few words.
Was he going to apologize for the comment or was he going to spit more gas onto the fire he started? I opened my mouth to ask, but my fingernails dug into my palms, reminding me that I could not do such a thing.
My nipples pierced through the material as my back-stabbing mind formed a scenario about how things could be carried out if he’d let his thoughts speak for him. Would he have me leaned on his luxurious car with his hand buried in my pants?
No. Stop.
His gaze met mine and I held my breath when I recognized the hunger in his eyes.
So, with my cheeks threatening to burn, I followed his hand and got inside the car on the seat while he occupied his. He started the car and I took a second to analyze the opulence in it. Dark purple lights covered every edge of the car, from under my seat to around the big screen between us, the details covered with wood. Even a few bits of the wheel had small pieces of wood on it.
I sunk into the seat, sighing in relief at the comfort. This was way better than my couch.
“Have you eaten anything?”
My head snapped to him, the beats of my heart accelerating.
Why would he ask that?
Then I tried to relax, knowing it was something normal people ask, whether to make small talk or because they were genuinely interested. I didn’t know which of the options applied to Mr. Graves, but the question unsettled me. The only thing I prayed for was that he couldn’t tell, though the sounds of my uneven breaths gave me away.
I looked around, biting my bottom lip. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I did. I had a few great meals, actually,” I replied and internally slapped myself.
He didn’t need to know the only thing I ate today was a protein bar and then felt like throwing up, but I had a feeling my need for defense blew off any certitude of that. A simple “yes” would’ve done it without raising any suspicions.
Because I was afraid of what was hidden in his eyes, I glanced ahead. If he had the smallest squint of reservation about believing me, I might’ve walked out of this car, quit my job, and made sure he never saw me again.
Food talk was something I didn’t take lightly.
“You can tell me about your idea while we get something to eat,” he suggested, and my stupid heart jumped again.
I turned to him, my hands stretched in front of me. “No!” When I noticed the furrow of his brows, I hurried to clarify everything. “I mean, only if you want to eat something, but I’m fine.” I nodded, proud of myself for pulling this off so smoothly.
Right. So smoothly.
Mr. Graves ignored my obvious protest and drove away. I tightened the seatbelt around my body, his car roaring as it steered on the street.
Shit, the sound was beautiful.
“I haven’t got the chance to eat dinner, so we’ll go to Yora. You might not be hungry now, but the smell of their food will make you change your mind,” Mr. Graves said, so sure of himself.
I doubt it.
The mere scent of food made my stomach flip, but I didn’t argue with him about it. He could be certain as long as he wanted, I wasn’t going to try to prove to him that the opposite was true. There was no point, anyway. The less he knew, the better.
Mr. Graves took a few turns to the right and then one to the left that took us on a tight street where he parked the car. He knew his way around town if he picked up a place so fitting and so close to where I was.
Old Town was a cheap ass bar for poor people and had a great location. The owner, Bob, bought it fifty years ago and never sold it, no matter how many offers he got from luxurious brands that wanted his spot. For many, his bar was a stain on the long street with showcases that stole your eye and restaurants where celebrities came to eat.
Tristan stopped the car, throwing me one quick glance before leaving his seat. I got out as well, the air sweeping down my clothes once again, except now he didn’t make any inappropriate comments that could warm me whole.
My clothes. Shit.
The second I looked down at myself—at the outfit that seemed a good choice for Old Town—I became self-aware. There was no way I was going to walk into the restaurant where golden chandeliers lit the path to the entrance.
I rubbed my lips together, the gum moving inside my mouth as I patted my hair with a hand. Avoiding his gaze, I looked at Yora. “I don’t think my outfit is… fitting,” I said, pointing at my clothes as if he hadn’t seen them already.
Still, his eyes scanned me from my dirty shoes to the faint makeup on my face. Nothing about me or my appearance let it on that I belonged anywhere near a man like Tristan Graves. If anything, I bet I couldn’t go in as a waitress either.
He hummed deeply, those green pupils finding mine. “Your outfit is fine. You don’t need to overdress for a business meeting, especially on such short notice.” Mr. Graves started walking and I followed him, my stomach forming a pit.
A business meeting.
Of course, fool. What did you think this was going to be? A date?
“But… you always overdress,” I pointed out as we continued our path on the stairs.
The doors in front of us opened and without looking at me, he said, “I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Good evening, Mr. Graves.” A woman small of stature nodded her head at him, a pleased smile playing on her lips. Her eyes found her way to me, a curious stare quickly analyzing me from head to toe. The woman didn’t give me much thought and turned her attention back to my boss. “I’ll take care of you,” she told him. “Wait here,” the woman directed the words at me.
She started walking away, and I tried my best not to feel ashamed, but it was hard to do so when she was right. I looked like an outsider in this place, especially next to him.
I bit my tongue, stopping any comments from escaping my mouth. I wasn’t here to embarrass him, but to present him with my idea.
“She’s with me,” I heard him say and watched how the woman turned around in shock.
She blinked a few times, her eyes jumping from me to Mr. Graves. “I’m so sorry, I’ll get you to a table of two right away.”
We followed the woman, and I couldn’t lie that the smallest ounce of satisfaction didn’t jolt through my body. Even though I was expecting him to say something like this—because what could’ve he done? Leave me at the door, eat, and then find me?
Mr. Graves took a seat on the white chair and I made my way to the couch in front of him with a shaky smile on my lips.
“See if there’s something you like.” He pointed at the integrated screen in the tables as soon as the waitress left us alone.
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”
He was still looking at the menu as he talked. “A glass of wine, perhaps?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t like wine.”
Mr. Graves hit order on his tablet and met my gaze, his piercing eyes fixing me. “How do you feel about rum?”