20. Is this flirting I see?
CHAPTER 20
IS THIS FLIRTING I SEE?
CHARLIE
D oubling our efforts at work means double the meetings, destroying any chance I had of balancing my workload, but honestly, I need the distraction.
Ever since I watched Emma play with herself, writhing next to me in pink lace with that toy between her legs, I can’t think of anything else.
“We should just sleep here,” I say, dumping my bag on the desk at ass o’clock in the morning.
The back of my shirt is still damp from rushing out of the shower this morning, and if Emma so much as smiles at me, I’m going to throw her onto the desk and wake myself up with her tongue.
It takes a little shuffling to see her face, but it’s worth it for the view. “You know, I’m shocked you’ve never camped out in the sleep pods, just in case you get document-related inspiration in the middle of the night.”
She scoffs, her eyes dancing. “And give this place more of my life?”
“What, you don’t like EPCOT Jr.?”
Her laugh morphs into a yawn. So the woman is human after all. “Don’t give them any ideas. If they could sell us the idea of living here as a new form of working from home, they’d do it.”
Christ, they would too. “State-of-the-art depression with a side of lifelong servitude.”
“Don’t forget the annual 2 percent pay rise,” she adds with a smile, and my traitorous heart thumps away in my chest.
I spend the next five minutes reminding myself that kissing her is off limits. If I do anything ridiculous, she’ll probably cut off my dick.
I’m thinking it so hard, I don’t even notice she’s moved until she’s at my side, holding out a coffee and looking like a dream come to life. I don’t need to ask to know she’s gotten my order perfect again. Hazelnut mocha, extra whip.
“Marry me,” I say, gently taking my prize from her. Our hands touch briefly, causing lightning to shoot through my veins.
When I look up, Emma’s watching with a mix of exasperation and fondness that is desperately fucking with my ability to not kiss her right now.
“You better be talking to the coffee,” she says. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
I shoot her a grin. “Only because you wouldn’t have me.”
I’m locked in place as she looks me up and down, hungry for every drop of her attention and desperately waiting for her next move.
Whatever she’s thinking, she doesn’t share, but the soft smile on her lips as she walks back to her desk haunts the rest of my day.
“You do realize that if we don’t tell them where to save anything, they’ll just make it up as they go.”
Emma sighs out loud. “Yes, thank you for pointing that out. I did, in fact, phrase it that way on purpose. Any document that doesn’t require strict approval or revision control can be saved in any other company-provided system. If anything, we’re over-saving information. Do you know how much money the company spends on storage?”
“No, but enlighten me.”
“Well, actually, I don’t know. But I’m sure it’s millions.” She crosses her arms, waiting for me to challenge her. I like her like this: headstrong, unapologetic.
I swear if she embraced that side of herself more, there’d be no stopping her.
“Okay, I trust you. I’m merely playing?—”
“If you say devil’s advocate, I’ll kick your ass.”
I waggle my brows at her. “Promise?”
She huffs a laugh, finally losing the tension that’s kept her shoulders up by her ears. The collar of her candy-colored sweater dips low enough I’ll be lucky to concentrate if Ford ever shows up.
We’re meant to be meeting with the Operations lead, Geoffrey Ford, but there’s no sign of him. Yeah, he’s a busy guy, and if he couldn’t make the meeting, his admin should have canceled. But that’s not what’s bothering me.
It’s that Emma is treating this so casually. Like this shit happens to her all the time.
Fifteen minutes later, she’s fidgeting, clearly as desperate for a break as I am, but her stubborn streak is stronger than I thought.
Giving up all pretense of working, I lean back, hands clasped over my stomach. “Dear diary, my fucks have vanished. There wasn’t a note, but they changed the Hulu password so I can’t watch The Bear .”
The look she gives me is full of contained glee. I want to rip open that vault door so wide the hinges can never be repaired.
For weeks, I’ve been attempting to get under her skin, to itch, to pick. But now I want to look closer, find what’s really underneath the buttoned-up front she wears so well. I want to know what makes her tick.
Finally, she pushes her laptop away. The buttons across her chest fight for their lives as she crosses her arms. I know the feeling.
“You don’t like to take life too seriously, do you?” she asks.
“I’ll take things that are overrated for four hundred.”
Her brow raises. “I didn’t take you for a Jeopardy fan.”
I shrug. “My parents love it. Reese and I made a game of it when we were kids.”
“Reese is your…?”
“Sister. A year younger in age and half decade older in maturity.”
There’s a question in her eyes. In the way she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. One she’s wanted to ask since that phone call. It’s the same question Reese and I always get. What was it like? Are you okay?
As if our childhood is a true-crime story ripe for amateur investigation.
I let her chew on it for a moment, waiting to see what she’ll do.
“You said something,” she says, “when you drove me home the first time. Before we…”
Before we kissed. Oh, I remember.
“You knew that building,” she finishes.
Trust Emma to find a new angle. I should know better than to underestimate her.
Talking about my past is a surefire mood killer, which is why I rarely bring it up. Shit happened, I lived through it, the end.
A few weeks ago, no amount of money could have convinced me to open up to her. But she’s been brave enough to bare herself, fucking literally, so I give fear the finger and answer the question.
“I lived there a few years back, though it seems like forever ago now. Bit of a tight fit with the two of us. Reese snores like a freight train, so be grateful you don’t have to deal with that. But it was ours, and that made it better than anywhere else. I didn’t mean to be an ass about it. Of all the places I’d imagined you living,” and now she knows I’ve been thinking about it, “that was the last one I expected.”
“Most people wouldn’t imagine me there.” She lifts a shoulder, going for casual, but the way she’s staring at her hands tells me it’s a sore subject. “So, you and Reese moved here together?”
It was the first time I felt like I was moving toward something good. No more jumping around, trying to fit in. We had each other, and we were going to make our own home.
“Yeah. Reese got into vet school here, so the decision was easy, even if the living conditions were a little cramped.”
Her expression softens. “I’m sorry for getting defensive about it. It’s certainly not because I have a problem living there. Though it’d be nice if the little knob thingy in the tub wasn’t broken so I could remember what it’s like to wash my hair standing up, but?—”
“The little knob thingy?”
I swear she blushes all the way to her temples. “The thing,” she says again, as if that will make it clearer, “that changes it from tub to shower. I don’t know what it’s called.”
If we’d had this conversation a few weeks ago, I would have scoffed, like an asshole. My gut twists.
“If it helps, I don’t know what it’s called either.”
She ducks her head with a smile. “Thanks for not making me feel bad about it.”
I want to cuss out anyone who would, but I’d have to start with myself. Hadn’t I been ready to chuckle over where Digital’s reigning superstar hung up her cape at night?
“Any of it,” she finishes, and yeah, I can’t blame her for hating me, if all I’ve done is give her the impression that I’d take the trust she’s placed in me and throw it back at her.
If I really wanted to make it up to her, I’d be on my knees right now. God knows I’d go willingly, but she’s already on her feet, packing up.
As I reach for our empty coffee cups, Emma catches my hand.
“Where’s this from?”
She grazes the groove next to my thumb, a jagged pink scar, over and over, softly tracing the ridges. It’s mesmerizing. sparking electricity down my arm, through my spine, straight to my cock.
I want her so much I’m about to lose my mind.
Doing my best to ignore how fucking good she smells, I keep my breathing steady. “Tried to pick a lock with a screwdriver and cut myself.”
“I thought maybe you’d been in a fight.”
It’s a good guess.
“More than my fair share, actually, but this was me trying to outrun one for a change. I can show you those scars if you want.”
She rolls her eyes but keeps her voice soft. “Keep your shirt on.” I wonder if she knows she’s still holding my hand. “How old were you?”
“Young.” I don’t want to say more than that.
“And those other fights?”
“A little less young.”
With a hum, she finally drops my hand.
I clench my fist to fight the urge to reach for her.
With a shy smile, she says, “I’d hate to see the other guys.”
“Yeah, well, I was a bit of a dick as a kid.”
“I’ll take Things that Aren’t Surprising for two hundred,” she replies, dry as the Sahara, mischief in her eyes.
Reese was right. This is absolutely going to get messy.