Chapter 23
twenty-three
. . .
WYATT
I’ve finally convinced Blair to have lunch with me on the days I work out of the TWA offices. She brought Stella along last week. I hoped it meant she didn’t trust herself to be alone with me. But she’s controlled herself just fine this week. Everything has been professional but friendly. It’s been nice getting close to her again, but now I can’t get her out of my head. She’s playing the lead role in all of my shower scenes. I admit I’m looking for any excuse to spend time with her out of the office, even better if we’re alone.
She still hasn’t agreed to join me for Jake’s wedding. It’s a mind fuck that I’m desperate for her to say she’ll go but also terrified she’ll go. It’s jumping right into dating vibes.
But she has a magnetic pull that I can’t resist.
Maybe it’s because we grew up together. Spending time with her was the best part of my day. When she asked me to be her first, my heart stopped. I wanted to be her first everything. I was already possessive, but this sealed that she would be mine forever.
The elevator door slides open, and I don’t notice she’s walking in behind me until I reach to press the button for our floor. I almost swallow my tongue. She’s wearing a black dress that stretches around every single curve of her body like it’s trying to hold on for dear life. I’m not sure how she got the dress on or, more importantly, how I could slide it off her. If I was curious about what she looked like under her clothes, I have a good idea now. The material stops mid-thigh, and her legs are bare all the way down to her black pointed heels. She taps her foot, and I snap my eyes back up to see her trying to hide a smirk.
Busted again.
“You look incredible.”
I’m surprised to see her cheeks flush.
“Thank you.”
“Not what I expected the dress code to be for a Monday morning.”
I move closer to her as the doors close, crowding her against the back wall.
“Is that a good or bad thing?” she asks.
“Very good. Or maybe bad. Who did you put this dress on for?”
The chime of the elevator reaching our floor has us moving apart, but I’m not ready to end whatever connection we started behind closed doors. I hold my hand out so she can exit, and then I follow her, getting another perspective of the dress to admire.
“Stop looking at my ass,” she says without looking back.
“I can’t. It’s literally perfection.”
That gets a small huff of a laugh from her as she looks over her shoulder at me and rolls her eyes.
I follow her down the hall and into her office, surprising her when I shut the door behind me and lock it.
“What are you doing?” Her eyebrows make a V, and she looks irritated as she walks toward me. When she reaches past me to unlock the door, I grab her wrist.
“Wait.”
She glares at me, hesitant about my intentions. I watch her look from my lips to my eyes and back to my lips again. Then I lean in a little closer, almost to her lips but not touching them. We’re basically breathing into each other.
“Wyatt.” She says my name like a plea, and I use it as permission to place my hands on her hips. Her hands grip my wrists as they move, but she doesn’t stop me. I know I shouldn’t be in here, but I can’t resist. Every time I’m here, I’m forced to sit through meetings while watching her pull her hair over her shoulder and rub her hands down her neck—or bite her lip while she’s reading documents.
It’s not just her body or how she looks, though. She is fucking smart. She could run this agency. Every time we’re in a meeting, the other departments continually defer to her for information or approval. She’s been that way since I’ve known her: a natural leader and able to convince anyone to follow her.
I lean forward and dust my lips against hers. God, I love her lips. I take it slow to give her time to tell me what she wants. She takes in a breath and hesitates, not responding to me immediately, but then her hands slide up my arms, and she reaches around my neck. She presses her lips against mine, and I tilt my head for a better angle. My arms wrap around her, and I feel every part of her body against mine. I’m instantly hard, and when a small moan escapes her, I know she can feel me. My hands run across her curves and down her thighs, and I want nothing more than to reach under her dress. I’m obsessed with knowing if she still feels the same.
She runs the fingers from one hand through the short hairs at the base of my neck while dragging her other hand slowly across my chest, caressing each curve and dip like she’s trying to memorize my body. I pull her leg up over mine and move my hand up the inside of her thigh until my thumb grazes her center.
“Yes,” she whispers in my ear.
I run my thumb down the seam of her panties, and she is soaking wet. My dick was already hard, but now it’s steel behind my zipper, desperate to be released.
I slide her underwear over to the side, and run my middle finger through her slit and slip inside her.
“Blair, is this all for me?”
Our stares still for a moment, and then she presses her mouth to mine, taking everything she wants from me. I feel her hands grabbing my hair and her nails drag my scalp. She’s so fucking hot. I pull my focus back to her before I blow inside my pants.
“What do you need Blair? Tell me what you like.”
“More,” she whispers. “I need to feel more of you inside me.”
I slide in another finger and pull my thumb up to circle her bundle of nerves. The moan that escapes is loud and I bring my other hand up to cover her mouth.
“Quiet. I’m not sharing those sounds with anyone else.”
Her head rolls back and I feel her breath gasping between my fingers. I twist my fingers to rub against that magic spot inside and she brings her head forward to mine, her hands gripping my neck like a vice.
I lean my head down and lick her neck, letting my teeth scrape up to her ear and then I whisper, “Come on Blair, come like a good girl for me.”
It pushes her over the edge and I feel her body tense and release on my hand. I slow down, letting her catch her breath and the moment I remove my hand the door vibrates behind my back, echoing the deep sounds of knocking.
“Blair?” Stella says. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s ten a.m., and the meeting is about to start.”
My body feels the immediate loss of warmth as Blair bolts off me and across to her desk, adjusting her dress and running her hands through her hair. She uses her fingers to wipe around her mouth and then stills for a minute, closing her eyes.
Same, I think. I need a moment of silence, too.
It’s also obvious I’m going to need more than a moment to collect myself before we walk into the meeting, so I tell Blair to go ahead and I’ll catch up. Plus, I’m trying to avoid the regret she looks like she may share with me.
On my way out, Stella tries to avoid eye contact but says a quick hello. She wasn’t sitting at her desk when we walked in, so I’m not sure how much she heard. I say hello and try not to make things any more awkward than they already are.
When I make it to the conference room, I see Lance talking to Blair. Her shoulders are pulled up high, and she seems tense. He looks like a total douchebag, leaning against the wall and looking anywhere but directly at her while delivering what I’m guessing is not anything she’s happy to hear.
She spins around and stalks to the exit. I start toward her to see what’s going on, but she gives me the slightest shake of her head.
“Not right now. Let me go,” she says under her breath as she strides by.
I focus on Lance, and he’s already moved on, taking his seat at the head of the table.
“Wyatt! How’s everything going? Looks like you’re making fantastic progress. I had a call with The Manhattan Group, and they were thrilled with everything they’ve received from us so far. Great work.” Lance motions me over to sit next to him.
“It’s Blair you should be praising. She’s done all the hard work. I’m simply the messenger at this point.”
“That’s great to hear. We’re one big family around here. A win for one is a win for all of us. I’m not into keeping score on any of this, especially during a time when everyone should work for the greater good of our business.”
It’s clear he’s not interested in giving Blair any credit. When he makes a move to start the meeting, I ask, “Should we wait for Blair?”
“She’s no longer needed. We have an excellent overview of the agency, but now it’s time to talk about where we can make cuts to get the balance sheet where it needs to be. I’ve talked with our finance teams, and we think it makes sense to start with any overlap or redundant headcount.”
I nod, but it makes no sense to exclude her. She would be a great advisor on role clarity and what might be frivolous. I feel Lance does not know what most of the positions at this agency do if they are outside the scope of signing talent. Even then, I’m not sure he’s clued in on all the nuance around agent workload.
“So, what’s the low-hanging fruit, then?” Lance looks around the table at the crowd of confused eyes glancing back and forth at one another.
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” a woman across the table says.
“Tell me who would be the easiest to cut. No drama, minimal impact to budget or workload.” Lance leans back like this whole meeting is boring to him.
I look around the table and realize nobody knows how to respond. He’s literally looking for a list of names that accomplish the goal and doesn’t make extra work for him. He has no concern for what processes could be impacted, the potential loss of historical knowledge, or even a gap in skill set that might occur.
“We should probably look at everyone who’s on an employment contract first,” I say. “It’s not a foolproof way to create a list, but it is something we could use to determine where to start. We can look at upcoming contracts that expire between now and the end of the year. Depending on how the language in the contract reads, it may be as simple as just not renewing them.”
“Excellent. That’s what I’m talking about. Earning your pay today, Wyatt!” Lance claps his hand on my shoulder and uses it to help him up out of his chair. “It sounds like you’ve got this figured out, so I’ll expect a list by the end of the week.”
He walks out of the meeting room, and I look around the table at faces that mirror the disbelief I have.