my face away from her silky hair. A sudden pang of lust jolted me out of my seat.
Goddamn it. Trust me to get into a situation like this, secretly married to a sexy as fuck gamer chick with whom I worked long hours every day and sometimes nights. Who had curves that threatened to drive me insane if I thought about them for more than a few minutes at a time. Who I constantly wondered if she was as good a kisser as her luscious lips promised.
And I was all too aware that she got me hard way too often from just being in my proximity. And at this moment, was threatening to do so again.
I shook my head and started breathing through my mouth so I wouldn’t smell her. “What?” I snapped.
She sighed, apparently impatient that I was slow today and not catching on to her ruse.
“I said this isn’t about a bug, but I didn’t want everyone to get suspicious. I’ve been getting some weird looks every time I pull you out of the room to talk. Today at lunch, I had to return a call to my immigration lawyer. He got us an appointment in two weeks for an interview.”
“Fine. Okay. Is that all?”
She darted me a puzzled look, flicking her hair over her shoulder—and into my face. I recoiled. Though what I really wanted was to wrap my hands in it, pull her head back. I wanted to stare into her beautiful face and put my mouth all over her gorgeous, plump lips.
But that was beside the point.
She didn’t have to know that. Nobody had to know that.
Jeez. I needed to get laid again. This secret marriage—along with the hours-intensive, sometimes mind-numbing job—was giving me an epic case of blue balls. Perhaps after the interview, we could start seeing other people.
I leaned back in my chair to give myself a bit of a break and caught three heads pointed our way. When I jerked my gaze toward them, all three pulled back and started feigning work again, typing unnaturally fast and staring at their monitors.
I frowned. What the hell was that? Had the Den of mighty, unrelenting and detail-obsessed, hardy game-testers somehow transformed into the Lair of Gossip Girl or Gawking Rubberneckers United?
Frowning, I turned back to Katya. “Did anyone overhear you on the phone at lunch?”
She frowned back at me before an auburn eyebrow arched over her bright blue eyes. “Do you think I’m some kind of amateur, Jedi Boy? I was in that back hallway that leads to the side parking lot where no one parks. It was very private and empty. No one could have overheard.”
“—That you know of.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Jeez, I’m sorry I said anything at all. But you did ask me to keep you informed.”
My jaw tightened. “Just text me next time. No need for the full report, Cranberry. Or are you looking for every excuse in the world to come talk to me?”
In response, her face flushed a satisfying deep red. Though it wasn’t exactly the source of the blush I’d like to see on her. I’d rather it be from her being intensely turned on than from being angry. But it was almost as good.
Her eyes narrowed, and she straightened. “In your wet dreams, Buttercup.”
Oh, how very close to that truth she was.
I just smirked. “Be here early tomorrow. Jordan wants you and me to give that VIP tour. Not my choice.”
She responded by flashing me her middle finger and turned to go back to her workstation. Thank God, though I had to forcibly remind myself to pull my eyes away from her amazing backside as she did it. Damn… that hair brushing my cheek, her nutmeg smell. All I needed was an innocent brush of those full breasts up against my arm or back to complete the trifecta of frustrated attraction.
I was finding it hard to think about much else these days and resolved that it had to be the blue balls. I’d find a tree stump attractive nowadays.
With a small smile, I returned to my work. It was safest to keep her pissed at me. She’d maintain her distance, and that’s what I needed right now to keep my own head clear.
I had a meeting with the big bosses later this afternoon, and I had to get my mind back in the game.
When you worked in Quality Assurance for a thriving and immensely popular gaming company, you were always behind schedule. Or you