"Enjoy stalking Leontine all day," she says, turning back down the corridor. Her usual mocking tone is decidedly absent.
"I'm looking after my investment. Are there shareholders I have to consult before I fuck someone, too?"
Nothing. She bursts into her runway walk, probably off to multitask by sulking and bitching in the newsroom.
With the hallway empty, I take the opportunity to sneak into Leo's office. It's even tidier than the last time I visited; the boxes are gone, and her sleek plastic-topped desk is clear but for an iMac, a neat stack of papers and a bottle of cinnamon-scented hand lotion. I'd be rethinking my opinion on her alleged OCD if the upside-down roses I sent weren't stuffed under the desk at a crumpled, awkward angle.
Well, well. Hardly a display of gratuity, is it, sports fans? Anyone might think her ashamed of them. But not angry. If she were angry, she'd have just thrown them out.
This sends a ripple of heat down my spine, diffusing through my ass cheeks and warming my thighs. Other places. Heh. Little lion's taking to hoarding her obsessions like I do mine. Those chocolates came straight home.
I wonder what she'll do with this particular gift?
The black box is so smooth beneath my fingers. In some places, its pattern is slightly raised; velvet and bumps like skin under duress. Under fear. I wind the scarlet ribbon around my finger, enjoying the sight of the package beside her keyboard and the contrast between necessity and luxe.
"Can I help you?"
I jerk up, only to see Leo standing in her doorway. She's carrying a clear crate full of plastic and wires—more prototypes, perhaps—and has teased her hair back into a French braid. Shove a pair of glasses on her and she'd be some kind of Big Bang Theory porn fantasy. Not usually my type, but damn...you know how I like exceptions.
I give the gift box a pat, smiling faintly. "I wanted to leave this one myself."
"I'm not going to thank you." She eyes the box with disdain. "Also not sure how you can out-dark your previous efforts, if I'm being honest." Then she walks through, pushes me aside, dumps her crate on her desk and starts fishing around in one of the drawers, as if I'm not even there.
"Sounds like a challenge."
"Oh, goody." The sleeve of her red dress catches my bare wrist; she reaches to switch on her computer and then lingers, waiting for it to load.
She's so close now, my chest just an inch from her back. Her grown-up, spicy perfume infiltrates every breath I take and the warmth radiating from her body suffuses into mine. I bend slightly to blow along her exposed collarbone.
"Meeting later," I tell her.
"I can hardly wait," she says tonelessly. But she doesn't step away. In fact if anything, she tilts back into me, eager for touch. "Am I demoing the new camera?"
"If it works, yes."
"It's getting there. Still working on the Wi-Fi issues for streaming."
This isn't sexy conversation. There's nothing arousing about tech talk, or with watching Leo type her password in on the computer. Nevertheless, our bodies suck at each other in this hot little bubble, and seduction waits at the edges, its fingers splayed. Already, I'm hard, and I know she can feel it; what else is a man to do pressed against that gorgeous heart shaped ass? My greyest gift yet awaits her, and if she accepts...God. Rage and tension chew at my nerves.
"Aren't you going to open your present?" I ask.
"You're doing that thing again," she mutters, "where you're in my personal space."
"I like your personal space."
"So I gathered."
I breathe down on her again. Watch goose bumps spring up beneath my trail of warm air; buttery braille on her skin. "You have personal spaces that like me a lot, too." I'm tempted to hike her dress up, get my fingers inside her. Show her exactly what I mean.
She tips her chin to glance up at me. "Subtlety isn't really your forte, is it?"
"I prefer plain old lying. I'm a philistine."
"Ha."
"You say that far more than you laugh. I should be immensely annoyed by it." It's no good—my willpower this morning is absent. With light fingers, I reach down and brush the stockinged inside of her thigh. "Why am I not annoyed?"
She goes rigid. Pauses. Exhales with the weight of the world.
I step closer, cocooning her body with mine. The same fingers that caressed the top of her stocking find their way to the crease between her thigh and panties, probing until she gasps and falls back against me.
"Admit it, Leo," I murmur. "You love it when I touch you."
"I...I hate you..." she whispers.
"You don't hate me nearly enough."
Her hand finds the stiff bulk of my thigh and she squeezes, sending shocks of pleasure and adrenaline to the firm rise of my cock. "D-don't stop."
"You want me to play with your *, right here in the office?"
"I'm doing what I want," she breathes. "Not what I should."
I find her clit beneath the warm, damp mesh of her panties and press two fingers either side. Roll them each way, very slowly. "Open your gift, Leo."