Page 55 of Scandalous Lover

I smile as I’m able to take the first breath in what feels like ten minutes. I let the oxygen calm me. She gets me.

I’m so fucked.

Naomi: Try this—slide one hand down and touch yourself over your pants, then take a selfie of just your face.

The thought of doing what she asks makes my heart race but doesn’t induce nearly as much panic as the thought of getting caught in my office with my pants down and phone in my hand.

Slowly, I slide one hand down until it’s cupping the bulge in my pants. It’s all I can do to hold in a gasp as the screaming nerves finally get some attention. I grip myself firmly and open the camera app.

Switching to front facing, my own face fills the screen. I can’t watch myself do this, so I close my eyes and hit the shutter button.

When I'm brave enough to reopen them, the image waiting for me takes my breath away once more.

It’s my face, but the expression there isn’t one I’ve seen in the mirror. My eyes are closed with my lip clenched just a bit between my teeth, revealing a flash of white. My cheeks are flushed, but it looks good on me. I look healthy and alive. I look happy, as if underneath that mask of poorly restrained desire is a smile. A genuine smile.

I hit send quickly before I can talk myself out of it.

Naomi: Damn.

Sam: I don’t know that guy.

Naomi: You keep saying that.

Sam: It’s true. I’m predictable. That’s my personality. No surprises here. Except with you.

Naomi: Good.

She’s right, of course, but I can’t help the flare of anger that rises in me at her flippant response.

Sam: Being predictable and trustworthy is what makes me such a good manager. It’s what makes me a good boss and a good friend. It’s what makes me…me. I don’t know what all these surprises mean for my life.

Naomi: You’re wrong about that, Sam. What makes you a good boss and great friend is your big heart.And that will always be there, inside, no matter what other changes you make.

Sam: You don’t know me well enough to say that.

I regret the text the second I hit send. I stand with my jaw clenched tight, waiting for her to respond so I can follow up with an apology.

The text bubble never comes.

I walk back over to my desk and sink heavily into my chair.

Sam: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that and never should have said it. This whole thing has me a little on edge.

My office door swings open so fast it hits the opposite wall with a bang that makes me jump and drop my phone to the desk.

“Why’s your door closed?” Dom demands.

I take a deep breath to keep from screaming at him for such a rude interruption. The last thing I want is to act out of character and draw attention to myself.

“The air conditioning kicked on a second ago, and it closed. I was just getting up to reopen it.”

Dom crosses his arms over his chest. I’m dying to read his expression, but if I look straight at him for too long, he’ll read mine.

“Is that so?”

“What’s up, Dom?” I feel like regular Sam would just brush off his hostility and offer my help, so that’s what I do.

Even though I’m no longer regular Sam.

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