Chapter 12 Shit’s starting to get real
Shit’s starting to get real
Tyler groaned. It was the first day of a new month and yet he couldn’t wait for it to be over. He had a headache of mammoth proportions and Barbara’s dying cat re-enactment was only making it worse. Thank God it was Friday.
It had been exactly three weeks since they’d returned from the conference and things were different yet still the same.
They had transitioned back into a somewhat professional relationship.
Jordan was still Jordan. Witty and sarcastic, though now she was a little more flirtatious…
a lot more flirtatious. And with each passing week he was finding it more difficult to stick to the arrangement he had put in place.
Some days were easier to get through than others.
Some days he managed to bury himself in enough work to keep his thoughts from drifting back to him almost ravishing her on the bed, with her long legs wrapped around his waist, her soft thighs beneath his hands.
Some days he could keep himself busy long enough to not think about how cute she looked when she did something silly, how his chest tightened every time he heard her laugh.
But then there were those days, those off days, those days when he woke up in the morning and he couldn’t wait to see her, those days when he would make up stupid excuses just to be around her. Today was one of those days.
He’d been fighting every urge to talk to her since he got in this morning and now he was tired of fighting.
The same thing had happened at the conference.
His plan was to stay as far away from her as possible and after multiple internal debates, he’d found himself sitting across from her at the dinner table.
He couldn’t stay away from her. There was something about her, an aura that drew him to her each and every time.
He felt comfortable around her, so comfortable that he’d actually opened up about his mother, something he rarely discussed.
This was becoming a problem, this exchanging of personal information, this constant craving for her company.
Tuesday was the fourth time he’d tried something new from Margo’s tray. Even though it ended up in his handkerchief every week, he still hadn’t complained because it afforded him a few minutes alone with her each week. And her giggling all the while was just an added incentive.
He stood up and began walking to her desk, formulating an excuse with every step.
A resounding hoooooh burst out of Barbara and he could have sworn he heard something shatter. Or maybe it was just a few of his brain cells exploding.
“Mervin is going to die a slow, painful death,” Jordan said when he reached her. “I know this because I’m gonna be the one to kill him. I’m gonna hang him upside down and use a razor blade to make tiny, little cuts all over his body and then I’m gonna watch him bleed out.”
He laughed. This was one of the many reasons why he liked being around her.
Generally, he wasn’t easily amused and yet she had the ability to draw laughter out of him with a simple sentence.
He’d always considered himself to be a serious man, but somehow she brought out a very light-hearted side of him.
“It seems like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he said.
“Yeah. At night when I’m trying to fall asleep and I can’t get that sound out of my head, that’s when I become very creative.”
“Tyler, Jordan,” Mervin greeted with the quick nod in their direction as he walked past her desk.
Her eyes narrowed to a death stare. “You’re gonna burn in hell one day for all the evil things you have done to others.”
Mervin chuckled and continued strolling to the elevators. Her dagger-eyes followed him until he disappeared and then she turned her attention back to Tyler. “What can I do for you this morning, Mister Evans?”
Oh, yeah. The excuse.
“I need the…uh…I need the segmental reports.”
“Sure thing.”
She stood and walked to the file cabinet behind her.
Opening the doors, she quickly scanned through the file labels.
She spotted it on the middle shelf and reached down to get it.
Her bending over was just a bonus. Her black knee-length skirt rode up just a little and he caught a glimpse of those soft, creamy thighs.
Her heels accentuated every muscle on her calves.
A file labeled cost analysis sat on the bottom shelf and a naughty grin formed on his face. “And the cost analysis,” he added before she turned around.
“Sure.” She bent down even lower and…
Oh, sweet baby, Jesus!
That was a sight he could look at all day.
Her skirt pulled tight over her ass, so…
so tight. It was only when he felt the twitch in his general pants area that he realized maybe that wasn’t his best idea.
Now he was standing in the middle of the open-plan finance department with a hard-on aggressively pushing at his zipper.
He quickly buttoned up his suit jacket, the tails of it covering just enough for her to be completely oblivious when she turned around.
“Here you go.”
She handed the files over and his eyes moved up her outstretched arms and just sort of got stuck on her breasts.
Those breasts. God, those breasts.
His palm knew what it felt like now. His fingers knew how her nipple felt pressed between them.
“Eyes up here, big boy,” she quipped with a smile, her eyes shooting a quick look down to let him know that she wasn’t completely oblivious to the activity happening in his general pants area.
He silently took the files but didn’t walk away, just simply continued staring.
She truly was a beautiful woman, inside and out.
She sat down and slung those long, sculpted legs onto the desk, crossing them at the ankle. “Mister Evans, you’re looking at me like you want something else.”
I do. I really do.
He smiled but had no intention of entertaining this conversation.
This was the subtle flirtation he had grown accustomed to over the last three weeks.
Her body language was sexual. Her tone was suggestive.
Her words were ambiguous. Every sentence was formulated with the intent to drive him crazy, but never too over-the-top to be considered inappropriate.
He needed to put an end to it because every time she did this, he wanted to throw his moral compass out the window.
They’d agreed to keep their relationship professional and he was going to stick to it.
He didn’t want to lead her on. Physically, he wanted her.
But emotionally he was too confused to make a decision and he didn’t want to bring her into that mess. It wouldn’t be fair.
“How’s the construction of the new building in Fremont coming along?” he asked, moving the conversation back to business.
“The erection of the new building is…coming…” Her eyes shifted to his pants and stayed there long enough to send a hot surge through his body.
“…along quite well. The builders are delayed, though. Seems like they committed to something and now they’re having a really hard time sticking to their resolution. ”
Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
The ambiguity was not lost on him. He knew what she was trying to say.
Little things like that really needled him.
Cute, little glances. Playful banter. That he could do.
He even enjoyed the flirting every once in a while.
But this, her purposely toying with him to get a reaction, that kinda got on his nerves.
He was a man on the edge. Every day she pushed him a little bit more.
Every day it took a little longer to get rid of his hard-on.
Every day he became a little crazier with lust. He wanted her with everything in him.
Thighs, hips, lips, breasts, he wanted it all.
But it was something he couldn’t have, wouldn’t have until he was certain.
His eyes met hers and he forced a smile. “Yeah, Jordan. They’re having a really, really hard time sticking to their resolution.”
Her smirk was almost sadistic, making him believe that she actually got a kick out of watching him suffer.
“Let me know if you need anything else, Tyler,” she said as he walked away. “I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
He groaned as he shut the door to his office.
Today he was going to suffer through in constant state of arousal with a mammoth-sized headache that was only aggravated further by the sudden blood redistribution.
Today he was going to go home, throw himself into bed and wait for body parts of Jordan to stop playing on his mind so he could actually get some sleep.
Today, like every other day for the past three weeks, he was going to try to think of another way to get Trisha back and convince himself for the umpteenth time that his feelings for Jordan were just superficial.
Yeah, today was one of those days.
* * * * *
“Matthew, you are the worst friend in the world,” Tyler shouted into the phone. “I could be dying and you’re not even willing to help.”
“You’re not dying, Ty.”
“My fever is about a thousand degrees. My head is ready to explode. My—”
“The fact that you’re not telling me your real temperature means that it’s in the moderate zone, so you’re still fine.”
“It could get worse.”
“It’s the hypochondriac in you talking. It’s just a classic case of man-flu. You’re not gonna die, Ty.”
He could actually feel Matthew rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone.
And was that a chuckle he just heard? This was no laughing matter.
His mammoth-sized headache had escalated to the point where it felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull and his temperature was so high, he was on the brink of spontaneous combustion.
It could happen at any second now and here was Matthew (new title: former best friend), chuckling on the other side of the phone.
“So are you coming over?” Tyler asked.
“No.”