Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
How do you act normal during a meeting when the only thing you can think about is the fact that you had your boss’s dick in your mouth a little over an hour ago?
Asking for a friend.
The friend is me.
I can’t even look at him. Every time I do, my brain immediately conjures the image of his face afterward. The absolute awe in his eyes. The way he stared at me like I had just done something impossible and slightly illegal.
And when he speaks, I hear those sounds he made when I squeezed him just right. Those deep, almost grunting moans I tore from his throat while he invaded mine. And ugh, let’s not even talk about when he starts gesturing with his hands. I know exactly what those fingers are capable of.
Which is why I’m positively drenched during our first meeting of the day.
Every so often, he catches my gaze, and I know he’s thinking about it, too. I can see it in his eyes, a brief flicker of something that definitely does not belong in a meeting about projected revenue and permit delays.
How do we come back from this? How can I work under him when all I want is to get under him?
That was cheesy. I apologize.
But still, it’s an HR nightmare. Even I can see that.
Atlas Development. Yes. That’s my saving grace. Soon, I’ll be working for Atlas Development as their PR Manager, and this situation will become much less complicated.
I mean, I can have a crush on a former boss. I can even fantasize about a former boss. That’s fine. And if he wants to fantasize about his former assistant? Go for it, big boy. Who am I to stop you? Picture me naked.
Please.
Unfortunately, my silent invitation does not end the meeting.
Instead, the day keeps going. One investor meeting becomes two.
The two meetings become a site visit. The site visit becomes another call in the back of a car, while I sit beside Andrew and pretend I’m not hyperaware of every single movement he makes.
He is better at pretending than I am.
He talks about timelines, permits, projected returns, and long-term market strategy like this morning didn’t happen. Like I didn’t have him in my mouth while the sun came up over Manhattan.
I try to focus. I take notes. I nod at appropriate times. I even ask one useful question during a meeting with the New York project team, which feels like a miracle considering my mind is still back in that hotel bed.
Once we get to the airport, we find out our flight is delayed by forty minutes because of course it is. We sit beside each other at the gate under fluorescent lights that make everyone look like they’ve recently survived something. Andrew works on his laptop for a while. I pretend to answer emails.
Eventually, Andrew shuts his laptop and turns his head toward me. “You barely ate anything today. Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I admit.
He stands without replying and disappears toward one of the airport cafés. When he comes back, he’s carrying a bottle of water, a sandwich, and a paper bag with the corner of something chocolaty sticking out. He hands me the sandwich and water.
I look at the bag. “Is that also for me?”
“No.”
I stare at him.
He takes a chocolate cookie from the bag, breaks it in half, and gives me the smaller piece.
“Wow,” I say. “Generous.”
He sits down beside me again and takes a bite of his cookie. For some reason, watching Andrew Bennett eat a cookie at an airport at ten at night feels more intimate than it should.
“It’s kind of funny, you know,” I say after a while. “Your sweet tooth.”
He glances at me. “My sweet tooth?”
“Yeah, your love for all things sugary.”
He looks down at the cookie, frowning. “A lot of people like sweet things.”
“I know. It’s just unexpected.” I shrug. “When I first started working for you, I assumed you only consumed black coffee and protein shakes. Maybe the occasional raw egg.”
“I do like my coffee black.” His mouth almost twitches. “I can enjoy sweet things while also preferring not to have them in my coffee.”
“And the protein shakes?”
“They’re good for you.”
“Raw eggs?”
“The raw eggs were a phase.”
I give him a long look.
He takes another bite of the cookie, the almost-smile still barely visible at the corner of his mouth. “I contain multitudes, Miss Michaels.”
I shake my head, hiding my own smile behind the sandwich.
For a while, we eat in silence. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but it isn’t unbearable either. Both of us know there are things we could say, but neither of us is stupid enough to say them at an airport gate surrounded by strangers.
I finish the sandwich and eat my tiny cookie crumb for dessert.
He finishes his substantially bigger piece.
When boarding finally starts, we stand with everyone else.
Andrew’s hand settles briefly at the small of my back, guiding me forward through the crowd.
Barely there and completely unnecessary.
I feel it everywhere.