“Stare at your work, Miss Warne,” he bit out without looking up.
Red in the face, I turned away and stopped looking at him directly. Part of me was angry, the other part confused. I watched the clock tick, begging for time to hurry along so I could go home and ugly cry.
“Do you mind if I slipped out and grabbed something to eat?” I managed out. I’d been waiting for him all day, I’d trudged straight through lunch, and because he hadn’t gotten me a sandwich like usual, my stomach was swirling with hunger.
“Your lunch hour was two hours ago,” he snipped back. “If you didn’t get yourself something then, you’ve wasted your own time.”
“But I’m all done my work.”
“In that case, I can think of six toilets that need cleaning if you’ve truly got nothing else to do.”
I stilled in shock and anger before turning back to my computer. “I’ll just go through the account register again.”
I could feel his smug smirk from where I sat, and I had to take breaths in so I wouldn’t lash out. What a dickhead. Did he really think that he could turn into an asshole after fucking me?
I’ll fix you.
I opened my internet browser and went straight to work.
If I couldn’t go out for food, then the food was going out to me.
*
Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the office door. I resisted smiling because I knew who it was.
“Come in,” Borden said, looking up from his paperwork.
The door opened and one of his men, Gerry, came striding in holding two bags of food.
“Got a food delivery, Mr Borden,” he said, standing infront of his desk.
Borden shot him a face. “For who?”
Gerry opened the bag and pulled out one of the Tupperware containers and read the name on top.
“Says it’s for…Boss Man Emma.”
Borden’s jaw clenched and slowly he turned to me, his face grim. Ignoring him, I raised my hand up to Gerry and said, “Oh, that’s for me. Thanks, Gerry.”
He set the two bags down on my desk and left the room. I could feel Borden’s glare as I went about opening the bags and removing the containers. There were ten of them, and I spread my giant expensive feast out all over my desk, a content smile on my face.
“Since when do you like Chinese food?”
“Well, I don’t,” I explained, “but because I’m not on my own lunch break, I’m on company time, and this place was on the company account for catering. And don’t worry, you left a nice tip. Thank you, Mr Borden.”
He didn’t respond. I was sure he was twitching like a rage-case that he was, and I loved that. I went about eating as I worked, all the while ignoring him watching me take a bite out of everything.
“I’m going to go out and get something to drink,” I told him after I’d finished. “Unless…I’m not allowed to.”
I glanced at him expectantly, and I saw the wheels turning in his brain. If he didn’t allow me this, I’d fucking fix him again. Maybe I’d buy a vending machine and place it in the goddamn office. The thought actually thrilled me.
“Just go,” he muttered, fuming.
I did, and after I had something to drink, I went to the toilet and took a long ass time brushing my teeth and pacing the room. Pretty much, I did what I could to prove to him that I’d always find a way out of his reins, and he wasn’t happy about it.
The animosity in the room was so palpable after that, I felt nervous through my façade. I was doing this whole thing because I was hurt, and I didn’t want to be stepped on. However, I was quietly aware that I might be doing more damage between us, and the last thing I wanted was for him to hate me. The thought unsettled me so much, I found myself trembling, searching for ways to mend the bridge but coming up short at how unapproachable he was.
When it was time to go, I couldn’t have been more relieved. I began packing away my things. I was slow, unsure of how the kiss on his cheek was going to go. I stood up, awkwardly turning in his direction. My palms were sweaty, I didn’t know what to do. Go to him? Leave? With his awful demeanour, I decided it was best to just go.
I made it three steps to the door when his voice rang out.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I stopped, and my lips curled up. So much for professionalism. I turned around and went to him, a tsunami of emotions taking over. I bent down to his side and kissed his stubbled cheek. It wasn’t a peck, though, not this time. My lips stayed there for several seconds, kissing him like I meant it with everything inside of me. I felt him go still, and I pulled away, when he abruptly grabbed me around the back of my neck and forced my face back to his. He brought me inches away and he stared at me, his eyes so blue, I swam in their depths, my head dizzying with lust.
I breathed harder, and every part of me stirred alive. That same thrilling feeling when he kissed me before emerged, and I silently pleaded for him to do it. To bring me back to his mouth and ravage me.
Suddenly, nothing about the day mattered. All of that anger and frustration was utterly forgotten.
There was hunger in his eyes, but also conflict. It was as though he was fighting to keep me at a distance.
“Do it,” I whispered to him.
If there was a switch, I’d just flipped it.
He pulled me to him quickly, taking my mouth against his. I sank into him, sucking at his lips and tongue, feeling like a crack addict getting a fix. He kissed me with such depth, I was lost to him, incapable of thought or reason.
His whole body moved instantly, shoving me back, situating me on the edge of his desk. He hiked up my skirt, his fingers shoving aside my very nice pair of thongs – because a part of me wanted this to happen – and lightly stroked at my clit. I bucked under the touch, and sparks flew through me at his touch.
Yes, yes, yes. My body chanted.
Then…
RIP!
He tore the thong off and stood up, kicking back his computer chair as he leaned into me. His hands were everywhere. Groping my breast, unbuttoning my shirt, bringing my skirt up over my thighs and around my hips, skimming over my bare sex with just enough pressure to make me moan.
I couldn’t explain my excitement in that moment. There were no words. I felt my heart explode in my chest as I kissed him, savouring that beautiful rush between us. My hands ran up his chest, tugging off his suit jacket. I ran my fingers into his hair, yanking at the ends.