Page 30 of Wrong Car, Wright Guy
“Twitter,” she corrects, glancing at him then me. “It’s blowing up over the boxing. A trans woman wants to fight professionally but they’re blocking her because she was born male. It’s sparking ahugedebate, so it’s perfect for the show.” She’s all flushed in the face from excitement, and I hate that I can’t stop my body from reacting to how beautiful she is.
In the brief moment between her entering the room and now, I’ve already imagined slamming the door and kissing her so hard she falls back against it. I’ve imagined tugging the buttons of those jeans I wish she’d quit wearing to work open and sliding my hand inside, plunging my fingers so deep inside her that she won’t even be able to think, let alone speak.I’ve imagined her screaming my name when she comes before dropping to her knees to return the favor...
And now I’m just staring at her, wishing she—and Brooks—would turn around and leave my office so I can deal with the consequences that line of thinking invokes in peace.
“Well?” She holds her hands out to the side expectantly. It takes a moment for me to straighten out my thoughts so I can respond.
“Well to what?” I growl. And I growl at her because I can’t seem to communicate any other way when I’m feeling like this. She wafts in here like a breath of fresh air, a beautiful mess with her blonde hair piled on her head with a pencil sticking out of it, and after she speaks, I growl at her. Like I want her to regret coming near me. Like I want to punish her for being something I can’t have.
“The boxing debate over the trans woman,” she clarifies, already sounding exasperated.
I'm exasperated too. Despite hating the way she blindsided me, I still want Ruby Casey. So much, I need regular jack-off breaks when I spend too long alone with her. It’s ridiculous, and I hate that I have such a lack of control when it comes to this woman. I know she’s off limits. For one, she’s my co-host. And two, she’s taken.Three,she lied—well,omittedinformation—about it. Still, I can't help the way she turns me on with that sharp mind and fiery attitude. This is getting out of hand.
“We’re discussing teachers bearing arms,” I say, picking up the report again so I look disinterested, when in actuality, I'm trying not to look at the shape of her thighs and that tiny triangle of light that peeks through at the point where her pussy stops and her thighs touch. I don't know why, but that gap drives me crazy. I want to slide my fingers through it and cup her with my hand.
She holds her hands to the side. “This is happeningnow. It’s on topic. Peoplewantto discuss this.”
“There isn’t time to change topics.”
“Bullshit! You change topics all the time.”
“That’s different.”
Her hands move to her hips and her cheeks redden. “Why?”
“Because it’smyshow.” She hates it when I say that.
“Your show?” She moves toward me as her voice rises, ready for a fight. Gerald takes that as his cue to leave, muttering his excuses and getting the hell out of here before he gets caught in the crossfire. Smart man.
“My idea.Myshow,” I say when he’s gone.
“I’m the goddamn co-host,” she yells. “This show isours.”
“And yet I’m the one with a big office and the final say.”
“You are such a jerk.” She shifts back. “Why am I even here? If none of my ideas are ever going to be any good, then why the fuck am I wasting my time researching topics?”
“Because you’re an overachiever who is desperate to impress.” I close the distance.
“I don’t need your praise,” she scoffs, standing her ground.
“Then quit trying to outdo everyone and just do your job.”
She leans in so close I can feel her breath against my face. “Finding topics is my job.”
“No. Researching topics is.Ifind the topics. You’re overstepping, and I’m tired of you barging in here and throwing tantrums when you don’t get your way.”
“Ineverget my way,” she spits, eyes flaring.
My eyes drop to her mouth. “Me either, princess,” I murmur, registering just how close we really are to each other. She’s physically pressed against me. I can feel her soft breasts against the hardness of my chest, and I’m standing over her, our faces so close that if I lean in maybe half an inch, my mouth will be on hers. My dick hardens at the thought, and I’m quick to turn away. “Just… do some research and send me your notes before the show.”
“Does that…” She needs to pause to clear her throat. “Does that mean you’ll consider it?”
“Who knows?” I move back around to the other side of my desk, sitting down so it puts some distance and a barrier between us. “I also need you to contact a few modeling agencies and get them to send some suggestions for an ad campaign we’re running. Gerry will talk you through the details.”
She folds her arms across her chest, that moment of tension vanishing as fast as it appeared. “Don’t you have a PA for this stuff?”
“She didn’t work out,” I say, catching the unsurprised roll of her eyes.
