Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,58
brings out in me.
“Fine. You’re right. I just . . .” He trails off before huffing out a tense breath. “Look, I know I have no right to be jealous or upset. But after all that’s happened with us, the thought of you and him . . .”
He shakes his head and looks away.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
I sigh and smile. Crisis averted after one ill-timed teddy bear delivery.
“I had no idea about Brett.”
His eyes widen. “Management told you?” he asks, his tone softer.
I nod. “You did that for me?” It comes out more like a question than a statement like I intended.
He shrugs. “I don’t want to work in a place where an employee thinks he can speak about his coworkers like that.”
I ease to a whisper. “It means so much, what you did.”
I place the palm of my hand against his chest and take another step toward him. I’ve been aching to touch him all morning. Feeling how hard his body is when I’m not delirious with pain has been the highlight of my evenings lately. In my alert state, I relish this flesh. His heart beats swiftly against my hand. I wonder if it’s my touch that causes it. I hope so.
“Working here, around all these guys, I have a shield up every day. Knowing you were looking out for me means everything.” My voice is a soft rasp.
Gently, he grabs my hand and pulls it off his chest. My stomach twists, but then he laces his fingers with mine and pulls me closer, pressing my torso against his.
“I fucking hated that guy,” he says in a low whisper. A slight smile catches the edge of his lips.
“Me too.” I grin wide.
“Every time he looked at you, I wanted to smash his head into the side of a table, the floor, the wall.”
“I kind of wish you had.”
His smile grows. “If I had done that, then I’d be in jail, and we couldn’t have this awkward moment in the stairwell.”
“I don’t think it’s awkward.” I tilt up my head. My lips inch closer to his.
Our stairwell interlude almost feels like progress. We’ve shared truths and worked out a misunderstanding, and now we’re better. Closer.
The sound of the metal door slamming open at the bottom of the stairs below us jerks us apart. We’re pressed against opposite walls now, arms crossed over our chests. Heavy footsteps thud up the staircase. Gus darts between us to walk through the door. I wonder if he even saw us. He sure didn’t act like it. We glance at each other and laugh at the same moment.
A hint of worry creeps into my brain. “Do you think he noticed anything?”
“Nah. It’s Gus. He doesn’t pay attention to anything outside of the warehouse.”
I step back into his reach, and he gently wraps his arm around me. I touch my lips against his. He pecks me but stops before we can properly kiss. I pull back, disappointed.
“Believe me, I want to. I’d press you up against the wall right here, right now, but we can’t get caught. Not like this,” he says. The hard swallow in his throat lets me know he’s telling the truth.
“You’re right.” I’m embarrassed for letting my hormones dictate my behavior in this stairwell. “Come out to lunch with me, then. We can find a spot someplace away from here where you can press me against a wall.” I trace my fingers across his chest, hoping to convince him.
He leans his head back and groans. “I wish I could, but I have a dentist appointment over my lunch hour.”
Backing away again, I shoot him a pouty face. He pulls me to him, leans down to nibble my bottom lip, then licks it lightly with the tip of his tongue. My knees buckle.
“What about after lunch?” I’m shameless in my desperation.
“I should have told you: I have to go to a social media seminar this afternoon at the DoubleTree. Today’s a half day for me.”
I groan and pound lightly on his chest. “You’re killing me.”
He grabs both of my arms and pins them behind my back. Something hard and blunt pokes me from the front of his pants. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
He releases me, then folds his hands in front of him to conceal his pants tent. “Okay. Back to work for us. You go first.”
I walk back to my office, a giddy skip in my step. Five minutes later, he returns to his. I can’t