with cute lisps, and then I’m supposed to finally be able to stop fantasizing about you naked.
I’m not tenacious. More like obnoxiously positive that things will go my way.
Pollyanna
Allyanna,
If I’m not hateful, then why is every woman at work terrified of me?
Hall Stalking Monster
Monster,
You’re not actually serious, are you?
Incredulous
Deadly.
Dom
Dominic Russo,
You big, dumb lug of tattooed grumpiness. Have you really spent your entire year there thinking they hate you? You’re playing with me right now, aren’t you?
There’s no way you can be so arrogant when you have me snuggled up against a conference table and then wander the halls of Label like a sad puppy because you assume everyone dislikes you.
Annoyed Ally
Annoyed Ally,
What the fuck are you blabbering on about?
Adding to my list. 6. People who never get to the point.
Also, are you obsessed with dogs?
Irritated Boss
Mr. Hot Bod Sexy Face,
The women of Label don’t hate you. They’re lusting after you. You’re scary hot. Like “don’t look directly in the eye hot.”
Baffled by You
Baffled,
That’s not what is going on. They look at me and see a carbon copy of my father.
Dominic
Dom,
First of all, I want points for being respectful of your Do Not Discuss topic even though I really want to dig into why you’d assume that people see you and your father as one and the same. Lots of points!
That is absolutely the exact opposite of what everyone in that building is thinking. They rate your scary hotness on a scale of 1 to 10, and you’ve never been below a 13. They swoon down glass doors when you walk past them in the halls.
You held the door for Nina in advertising last week, and she got a standing ovation. I’m not making this up.
Ally
Ally,
This is stupid. I don’t like getting to know you.
Dom
Dom,
Back at you. Let’s go back to ignoring each other.
Ally
25
Dominic
I wanted to say that things changed after our talk and emails. That with the air cleared and her moving back downstairs to the admin pool, I was finally free to concentrate on work. And in a way, things had changed.
I’d shown her my cards.
Admitted my sins.
Confessed my fears.
But none of that stopped me from seeking her out. It didn’t stop me from thinking about her. And it sure as fuck didn’t stop me from wanting her.
My days began to organize themselves around her.
Emailing after hours. Verbally sparring over some bullshit in the office. One of us getting a rise out of the other.
It seemed innocent enough. Except for the undercurrent.
There was something addicting about our interactions now. As if every word had a double meaning. Every glance was a coded message. We were both attracted to each other. However, we were also both adults. It should have been an exercise in self-control.
But then I’d find myself locking the door of my private bathroom and jerking off while fantasizing about her on her knees in front of me, her on my desk with legs spread, demanding that I fuck her with my tongue.
Every. Fucking. Day.
Knowing that Ally was attracted to me made me feel both less guilty about the act and more frustrated by the fact that it was my fist I was fucking and not her.
Basically, I was becoming a complete disaster, and the woman had only been here… God. Less than three full weeks.
Some days I held out until after everyone else had left for the night. Other days I barely made it to lunch.
And then there was today.
At 9:05, she waltzed into my office in a pair of thigh-high boots and a Dolce & Gabbana dress. The dress was a garnet red. The front V wasn’t scandalous by any standards, but to a man on a hair trigger of arousal, the hint of creamy white curves was dangerously seductive. The dress nipped in at the waist and flowed out again, ending just an inch or two above the soft suede boots.
“Sign these,” she said, slapping a file down on my desk, and gave me a cheeky grin.
I dragged my gaze away from that inch of skin to the papers in front of me.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” she continued. “Malina was going to deliver this to you personally. I stole them off her desk.”
“Thanks. What the hell are you wearing?”
She looked down at the dress and back at me. “Why are you so obsessed with my clothes?”
“It’s Wednesday. On Wednesdays, you wear your navy pencil skirt.” The one that hugs her ass. The one that I’d fantasized about shoving up over those smooth, round hips