eyeshadow is always a little smudged. Not enough to make her look unprofessional, just enough to make her a real woman, instead of a pristine plastic doll like my soon to be ex-wife.
“Uh…”
I laugh at her speechlessness.
“What’s wrong baby? Do I make you speechless?”
“No. Yes. Stop talking.”
I cock my head and force my eyes to leave her breasts as her cheeks heat into pink circles. I love Mila when she’s full of confidence, storming into my office to chew me out. But I also love her like this, disheveled, embarrassed, and speechless. She’s not weaker at this moment. She’s just affected. I like simply being near me can make it hard for her to breath.
“I like your outfit.” I let my eyes travel up and down her jacket and skirt lazily, knowing it’s going to take her a while to find her voice again.
When my eyes meet her gaze, all I see is dark fire.
“How do you always match my outfit? Every fucking day we show up in matching outfits. How? Why? You always leave before I even get out of the shower. Do you have a closet here where you change after you see what outfit I’ve chosen?”
I lean back in my chair as she stares at my pink tie.
“That’s really what you came in here on your lunch break to ask? Why does my tie match your shirt?”
“Yes,” she hisses not revealing the truth of why she’s here.
I stand up, not intentionally, but because I need to be closer to her. I walk around my desk and snatch her hand off her lap. She tries to pull her hand back, and I let her.
Our eyes lock, and words flow from my mouth. “I match you because even though you hate me. Even though I push you away. Even though I bark orders at you and treat you like a slave instead of a woman more capable than any other employee in my office, of not only being my assistant but running my company. Even though I can’t have you. Even though you will never be mine. Even though you deserve so much more. I need to feel like you are mine. I need to be connected to you. I need the world to know that I’ve claimed you. And matching you, wearing something similar makes me feel close to you, even when you are scowling at me and hating me.”
Her mouth falls open as she processes my words. I pick her fallen hand up again and kiss her hand, then her fingers, then her palm. I try to keep my kisses chaste. I’m kissing her to bring her back to life, not to take things too far. But I can’t help but pour everything into her with each kiss.
“How?” she barely whispers.
I take one of her fingers in my mouth, taking my time as I lick the length of it, knowing it’s a direct connection to her core. I’ve just lit the flame I don’t know how or want to put out.
“You’re a planner, Mila Burns. You may pretend you left that part behind you when you got suspended and started working for me, but it’s still there, hidden in everything you do.
“I know at night you’ve already planned out both of our schedules for not only the next day but the next few weeks. I know you have already planned and found two apartments you can easily afford once I start paying you in two weeks. One close to me and the office, the other close to campus in case you need distance from me. I know you already have your top three companies you will apply to when you graduate. I know you plan on paying your brother and sister back in January when I finish paying you. And I know you order all the suits in your closet in the order you plan on wearing them. All I have to do is look at what suit is next in your closet and match you.”
Mila bites her lip, and I don’t know if it’s to scold me or be happy with me. It doesn’t matter, either way; this isn’t the reason she’s in my office.
And the longer she’s silent, the more I can’t help but kiss her. So I kiss every part of her hand she will let me while the turmoil spins inside of her.
Please don’t hate me anymore. I can’t stand it.
“Your ability to plan everything lets you see your future. It lets you