I can feel her eyes back on me. She’s back to being lost in thought as the meeting wraps up. She’s so beautiful and intelligent with a poise I admire. Yet I’ve damaged that. That’s what I do, it’s what I’m good at.
I’m not used to giving a fuck. But I brought her close, and I know damn well I’m responsible for that hurt look and distant stare. She doesn’t realize how fucking obvious it is.
Hastings is watching her like a hawk.
They’re going to think I yelled at her or did some fucked up thing to her. And I did.
I didn’t realize it though.
I shouldn’t be pushing this; I should show some fucking restraint. But she’s all worked up and feeling insecure because of me. Not about what’s between us, but over her job. I don’t fucking like that. I didn’t even consider that it would be an issue.
I never considered it because it’s simply not a matter I’ve ever had to worry about.
It’s been bugging the shit out of me since she left my office. I feel like a fucking prick.
This isn’t a good look for me. I really don’t give a fuck about the office, but for a woman I’ve slept with… I don’t like her thinking I was going to hurt her. It makes me uneasy. I need to make this right.
Harold Geist wraps up his presentation. He’s completely deflated now that Charlotte’s corrected him. She didn’t mean to shut him down. She’s right though. It would have been a horrible move. I was at least going to wait for his talk to be done to tell him no. But Charlotte stepping up and telling him outright how his decision would negatively affect sales only proves to me more that I made the right decision.
I don’t want to lose her.
My heart twists in my hollow chest and I’m not sure that I like how strongly I feel toward her. “That’s all for today.” I end the meeting abruptly. “We’ll reassess next week.”
Charlotte’s quick to stand, and I know she’s going to bolt. I’m an asshole for taking advantage of my position, but I call out, “I need a moment to speak with you, Miss Harrison.”
At least this time it’s for her benefit, not mine. I still can’t look her in the eyes. I can feel the gaze of several people in the room, but I ignore them.
I couldn't care less about them and what they think about me.
I finally look at where she was seated, half expecting her to have just left, but she’s still there, staring at the pen in her hand as she taps it lightly on the table. The rest of the group files out, most people not paying much attention to either of us.
The second the door shuts, she looks up at me with a glare. “I told you, I didn’t want to do this.”
I hold her gaze and watch as several emotions flit across her face. But the one most evident is insecurity. She still doesn’t know what to think.
What she needs is a good fuck. She needs a release, and so do I.
She’s making this so damn difficult. Part of me wants to bend her over this table and take care of her like I want to. She’d feel better then. She’d be happier.
My dick hardens just thinking about it. Charlotte clears her throat and starts going on about how she wants the same respect as everyone else. Something or other that I don’t really pay attention to. After all, I respect her more than most of them. Whether she wants to believe it or not.
It doesn’t stop me from picturing her plump lips parted as she pants and moans in time with me leaving a bright red mark on her ass and fucking her.
Soon… if I play my cards right.
Right now she can yell at me all she wants. She can fight this and pretend she doesn’t want it. I have the time.
The thought makes my eyes drop to the floor and my fists clench. It’s only when I stop hearing her sweet voice that I look up.
“You weren’t even listening!” she says with exasperation.
Fuck! I didn’t mean that. How fucking deep am I going to dig this damn hole I’m in?
I hold my hands up in surrender as she breathes deeply and starts to lay into me again, “I don’t know what you expect from me when you won’t even listen to me!” Her voice is getting louder and I’m sure they’re going to hear her if she yells anymore. I should probably wait to approach her again, but I'm an impatient man.
I keep my hands raised in surrender, “I’m sorry. I do apologize.”
She looks at my hands and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She grips the pen and then looks back at me. She swallows thickly and asks, “What do you want, Logan?”
“I want to take you to dinner,” I say simply.
The words come out without my consent. I hadn’t anticipated it. I didn’t even know what I wanted to tell her when I called out her name. I just couldn’t let her leave with the way we left things.