Chapter 38 Late Night Booty-Call
LATE NIGHT BOOTY-CALL
KATIE
I tapped my stylus against my lips, staring at the half-finished design on my iPad. I had been playing with the new design for days, taking any chance to work on it during my break. The necklace I was sketching had clean lines but a little whimsy with a twist of asymmetry.
It felt bold and modern, something I had been dying to get into the last collection. Either for the presentation or maybe for my online store that Amanda talked about.
Voices near the employee lounge pulled me back. Two juniors, hunched over their table, were talking, frustration lacing their tone.
“He made me redo the entire bracelet mock-up last night,” one said to the other. “Didn’t even explain what was wrong. Just said, ‘Do it again. Better.’ Like… what the fuck does that even mean? If you’re so good at work, you should tell me how to improve it. Jerk.”
The angry stab at the plate of pasta felt personal, making me jump.
“He snapped at me too,” the other answered. “Made me stay till midnight cleaning an old collection of rings. Why should I do that? Is that even necessary right now? I swear I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
My chest tightened. It was my fault that they were suffering.
Justin had been short-tempered and irritating all week. I suspected why, but that didn’t make it easier to watch my team get chewed up. I’ll have to do something about it.
My phone blinked on the desk beside my tablet. The message I had sent earlier glared back at me.
Dinner tonight. My place. 7 PM?
No reply. Not yet. I bit the inside of my cheek.
Dylan wasn’t the kind of person to ignore me on purpose, but anticipation made me worry.
It had been a few days since he left my house with a cheeky grin, kissing me on my cheek, and I was missing his annoying presence and filthy jokes. Plus, his hot body was a bonus.
I wanted him there. I needed him after the day I was having.
Just the thought of going back home and being greeted by him made me feel giddy. Is this what having a pet feel like?
I pushed back from my chair and talked to the employees. “Hey,” I called softly, drawing their attention. “Take fifteen. Breathe. You’re doing great work, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I promise I will figure out what his problem is and make sure he doesn’t bother you guys, okay?”
They thanked me, relief softened their faces. I straightened my dress and squared my shoulders.
If Justin thought he could grind my team down, he was about to find out I would sooner burn the place down.
His door was half-closed when I got there. I tapped lightly on the frame. “Justin? You have a minute?”
He looked up from his phone, his eyes distant. “For you? Always,” he said dryly. “What is it, Katie? Another lecture about how I should handle my team and stop being a meanie?”
What crawled up his ass and died?
“Not a lecture,” I said, my voice steady. “They’re talented designers. They’re burning out because of you. Whatever’s going on, don’t take it out on them.”
Something ugly flickered on his face. “You think you know me? Maybe I’m just pissed you left me at that restaurant like some kind of idiot. With a small fucking note. A note, Katie. You couldn’t even be brave and call me.”
My stomach tensed, but I kept my chin high and replied, “Justin, I don’t owe you anything beyond professionalism from now on. Also, just so we’re clear, I like someone else.”
Because my crush on you was nothing but a stupid daydream to impress you with my designs and earn your respect. Which is never going to happen because I see what kind of person you are.
He barked out a laugh. “Already? You sure move fast, don’t you?”
“Yes, that date—let’s not even call it that. That lunch with you made me realize my boyfriend is perfect,” I said with a small smile, ignoring the lie.
Is Dylan my boyfriend? Maybe I should ask him that.
He opened his mouth, but my phone buzzed. I checked the caller ID and relief warmed me. Dylan.
I stepped out of Justin’s office without a glance and answered the call.
“Hey,” I said, letting my voice soften.
“Hey yourself,” Dylan replied, that familiar teasing voice made my lips curl. “Did you need me because your office imploded? Or is it a late night booty-call? Either way, I’ll be there. With a firefighter costume or a uniform if you wanna do some sexy role-play. You can be my hot math teacher.”
That stupid fool.
“No, my office is alright, just an old-geezer being annoying, but nothing I can’t handle. And let’s talk about that role-play later,” I said, my cheeks feeling warm. “I wanted to see you tonight. For dinner?”
He hummed, as if he was thinking about it, but I could feel the grin on his face. “You cooking for me, darling? Or should I bring takeout?”
“I can cook for you.”
“Hm, just come home early,” he said and dropped his voice low before adding, “Will you send me a pic?”
“A picture?” I asked. “Of what?”
“Of the lingerie you’re wearing under that bossy outfit,” he answered, his cocky tone making me roll my eyes.
“Dylan.”
“What?” he chuckled. “I haven’t seen you for days, and I miss you.”
“You’ll see me tonight, no?” I said, smiling and glancing at the dress I was wearing. Thank God, I had picked out a nicer one, which hugged my curves and stuck to me like a second skin. “Dinner. At Seven. Don’t be late.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was playful, and the warmth of it made my fingers tighten around the phone.
I needed him. Soon.
I left the office early, my stomach full of nerves. I had planned what I would cook, mentally making steps of the recipe.
The smell of tomatoes and garlic hit me the moment I opened my front door. Pizza? No, it was lasagna. I followed the scent into the kitchen and saw Dylan there, apron tied around his waist and his sleeves rolled up.
Wow.
He looked good. Unreasonably good. His forearms flexed as he slid a dish from the oven.
“Hey you,” I said, my voice soft. “You are cooking dinner?”
He turned towards me with his ridiculous boyish grin. “You invited me for dinner, but how can I let you cook food after bossing around employees all day and working so fucking hard? So I thought I’d handle it.”
He set the lasagna on the counter, where a bowl of salad waited. The smell of the sauce made me hungry.
My throat tightened as I watched him with an odd mix of awe.
“Dylan,” I called him and pursed my lips. “Remove the apron and come here.”
His green eyes pulsed with excitement as he followed my instructions.
Once he was in front of me, in nothing but a dress shirt and pants, I asked him to kneel. I would ask him about his work later.
“Remove my heels,” I whispered, and he unbuckled the straps from my heels with careful fingers, the skin at my ankle feeling sensitive when his knuckles brushed. Little electric shocks traveled up my calves.
“Thank you,” I said, and when he straightened up to his full height, it was harder for me to reach him without my heels.
“Lean down.”
He did without any hesitation, his face hovering inches from mine.
If I asked him for a million dollars, he would hand it to me. In cash.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
He didn’t make me wait. His mouth brushed mine softly at first, and then it deepened. It was a different kind of kiss from the hot, messy kisses we had shared before. It was slow and sweet.
When he pulled back, his eyes were molten. “Any more commands, darling?” he asked, his voice smoky and deep.
“Yes,” I whispered, my pulse throbbing. “Get on the couch.”
His grin was wicked, but he obeyed. Dropping onto the sofa like a king taking a throne, he spread his arms, watching me as if I was about to demand something extraordinary of him.
I walked towards him, very aware of his raking gaze on my body. My scarf trailed from my shoulders as I climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips. The instant press of him against me, the heat of his hard length, made me throb.
“Hands,” I said.
He offered them up without a blink, trusting me with a cocky smirk on his lips. I wrapped the scarf around his wrists, knotting it behind his back. His muscles flexed against the restraint, and his eyes darkened in a way that made my skin tingle.
He stayed there, restrained and looking beautiful. I let myself enjoy the way his chest rose and fell, his shirt stretching over his shoulders and chest with each breath. The way his gaze tracked every small movement of my fingers, the soft heat pooling between us.
“Be good,” I whispered, brushing my lips against his jaw as I reached for the button of his jeans.
His breath hitched. “Yes, ma’am.”