Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Logan’s door opening has both of us looking that way.
Logan walks out of his office and looks between Mark and me. He takes the mail from Mark’s hands. “Thanks for bringing this in.” He turns to me. “I need to see you in my office, please.”
Stunned at his abruptness, I stand up, grabbing a notepad off my desk. “Thanks, Mark.”
He nods. His smile falters for all of two seconds, and then he smiles again. “I’ll see you later.”
I nod and watch him leave. Sucking in a deep breath, I walk into Logan’s office. I barely get inside before he demands, “Shut the door.”
My eyebrows skyrocket up. He’s standing behind his desk, hands in his pockets. I sort of expected the silent treatment that he’s given me this morning, but I wasn’t ready for this.
I turn and shut the door before walking farther into the room.
He gestures to the desk. “You can put the notepad down. You won’t be taking any notes.”
I set it down, back up a few feet, and then rub my hands together.
“What… what is this?”
He gestures with his head toward the lobby and my desk. “Does that happen a lot?”
I look at the wood door as if it holds all the answers, but I can’t make any sense of his question. “Does what happen a lot?”
“The mailman?”
My forehead creases. “The mailman? What about him?”
Logan comes around his desk and then sits on the edge facing me. His jaw is tight, and he’s staring at me as if he’s looking through me. “Does he always come in and flirt with you?”
My eyes widen at his jealous tone. I blurt out a laugh. “He brings the mail in. He’s not flirting with me.”
He doesn’t even smile. “Has he asked you out?”
I open my mouth and then snap it closed. My hesitation has him standing up and coming toward me. He stops a foot away, but I can feel the pulse in my body at just being closer to him. He tilts his head to the side. “Has he asked you out, Bree?”
I lift my chin. “Yeah… when I first started working here, he asked me out, but I told him no.”
He slowly starts to walk around me and doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s openly ogling me. His voice is husky when he replies, “It seems telling him no didn't work. He’s still wanting you, wishing he could have you.”
He’s standing behind me, and I hear him lock the door. My breath comes out in a whoosh, and my whole body trembles. I just stand here, tense, anticipating what’s about to happen.
He moves to stand behind me, and I can feel the warmth of his body, but he’s still not touching me. “He wants you, Bree.”
I clench my fists at my sides and arch my back as if I’m searching for his heat.
His voice is like a whisper in my ear. “He wants what I had last night.”
And then suddenly what happened between us has turned ugly. I turn on him, unable to hide the anger. “What? You planning on pimping me out or something?”
Shock registers on his face, and then he shakes his head. His hands go to my hips, and I’m two seconds from pulling away from him when he drops a bombshell. “No. There’s no fuckin’ way I’d share you, Bree. I think you know that about me.”
He pauses for a moment while I stare at him in shock. “I know men look at you,” he finally goes on. “They can’t help it. But they need to know that they can’t have you. Not as long as we’re… doing this.”
I flip my head to look at him. “Doing what? I thought these last few nights was a just a thing. I thought—”
I let my voice trail off. I need to let him speak because I’m tired of trying to guess what he’s thinking.
He pulls my hips back so our lower bodies are pressed together. His hard manhood presses against my ass, and I lean into him. His arms circle me, holding me tighter to him. His hands are moving the whole time he’s speaking to me.
“Thing?” he repeats with disgust. “You think I can work next to you, day after day, and not touch you?” His hands cup my breast, squeezing me. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes… No…” I answer, confused because I can’t make sense of anything while he’s touching me like this.
One hand travels down my body, and he pulls my skirt up so he can palm my panty-clad pussy. “You want me to touch you? Or you don’t want me to touch you?”
He presses a finger over the sodden middle of my panties, pushing into me, and I arch into his hand. “I want you to touch me.”
He slides his hand under the material, and as soon as the pad of his finger touches me, I feel that I’m going to explode. He chuckles in my ear. “You like that, don’t you?”