Page 73 of Breaking His Law

“I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

Flirty firecracker.

27

NATHAN

Goat yoga, laughter therapy, and thankfully the massage with a sumo wrestler was a joke. Instead an actual masseuse appeared in the office and proceeded to pummel all the knots in my neck and shoulders away.

It was exactly what I needed.

It’s finally Friday and the evening of the ball. Twenty minutes earlier than arranged, I rap my knuckles against Arianna’s front door.

For days she’s been fucking with me, I know she has.

I hate admitting it, but for the first time in forever, my muscles don’t feel so tense and I almost feel… relaxed.

I will never forgive her for the goat yoga, but the cold-water therapy the masseuse suggested and massages are something I can totally see myself doing moving forward.

I smirk when Arianna squeals on the other side of the door and I hear her muttering words of annoyance as she gets closer to it. Opening it wide, she shoots me a nervous smile. “You’re early.”

“I am.” I was eager to see her.

She looks down then slowly lets her gaze travel back up my body, clutching at the neckline of her black velvet bathrobe and I can tell she’s nervous tonight. “You look…” She swallows; the V-shaped skin that’s exposed on her chest flushes red. “…good.”

I nod, acknowledging her compliment and wait for her to invite me in. Instead she continues to stare at me as if in a daydream, or something equally Arianna. Sometimes she’s really organized and put together and other days she’s lost in her own thoughts and distant. I can’t seem to work her out, which annoys me because it’s something I’m very good at.

“Can I come in?” I ask, motioning my hand inside her home.

She lays the palm of her hand on her forehead. “Of course, sorry, where are my manners? Come in.” She steps back and holds the door open for me to enter.

When I’m in the small hallway, she closes the door and points to a brightly lit room. “Make yourself at home. I won’t be long; I just need to pin my hair up, then put my dress and shoes on.”

Better yet, just don’t put the dress on. I’d rather she was naked.“Take your time,” I reply.

“Give me ten minutes.” She dashes off down the hallway with a midnight-blue painted ceiling, which I consider a bold choice. I walk inside the living area, to be met with the most unexpected décor.

Painted dark bottle-green walls with a flamingo-pink sofa covered in shocking mustard-colored scatter cushions invite me to take a seat. My senses struggle to take in the tropical maximalist decoration. Gold frames house pink hummingbirds, shocking blue peacocks, and lime-green parrots.

It’s… fucking amazing. I lower myself onto the shocking fuchsia sofa and take in the exotic-looking room filled with giant fern and green houseplants.

I chuckle to myself at the pink banana ornament, then at the zebra one which is wearing a multicolored striped wooly sweater.

My girl is quirkier than she lets on.

Not my girl. Not yet.

Unless she gives us the green light to having somefuntogether, which I think she will. Having her in my life as more than just my secretary might just scratch my itch… temptation.

She’s tempted, I know she is, because her flirting has moved up a notch. The laying of her hand on my shoulder, touching my hand when she passes me paperwork, the lightness in her emails, and eye contact. Fuck me, the eye contact. It’s as if there’s magnetics inside of her and I can’t look away. Combine that with lip licking and the way she rolls her neck as if the tension is too much, and it points to one thing. She wants me.

We’re great in bed together; how could she not?

I think, tonight, if I show her a little glimpse of my world outside of work, which isn’t much, my family mainly, it might persuade her to take a step into the unknown with me.

For me, it’s a complete black hole too. I’ve never had a relationship before. Hook-ups, yes, and one longer-term arrangement that suited both me and Kyla at the time. But a relationship? Would she want that with me?

Hell, it’s what I want. I’ve made my decision.

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