Page 51 of EverGreene
“Yeah.”
She looked at me as though she was oddly conflicted about something, opening her mouth to speak, but then deciding against what she was originally going to tell me. “Don’t stay too late.”
I’m sure the expression on my face must have screamedwhat the hell, because never in the history of ever had Shelby given two-tenths of twelve fucks about my work schedule. “That’s entirely out of my hands at this point.” I sighed. “See you later.”
Officially alone, I closed the last binder, checking my emails on my phone and groaning at all the non-trial-related work that’d had the audacity to pile up while I’d been otherwise indisposed. If there’s one thing I could be certain of, I wasn’t going to be let go due to lack of clients. A notification on my phone drew my attention to the app for the security system. Had V shown up at my house? Even as pissed as I still was at him, I rushed to click on the app to see not V but a package being left at my door to be opened whenever I made it back there again.
I’m not opening whatever it is you sent me until you show your face.
I hated myself for staring at my phone instead of putting it down and even more for the ache I felt between my legs when those three telltale dots jumped on my screen. Apparently, my vagina hadn’t gotten the memo that we weren’t too pleased with V at the moment.
Oh, but I think you will, though.
Keep that cocky attitude, and I may just throw it in the trash.
It would be a shame if you did, considering it would be a way to take me with you wherever you go.
Consider my curiosity piqued. Did he send me an article of clothing as a clue to his identity, or a body part? Maybe a lock of hair or a vial of blood, like the celebrity couple I’d read about. Oh, shit. What if he sent me a custom-made dildoformed in the likeness of his penis? I would never, ever leave my house again if that was the case.
Why would you think that would appeal to me when I already take you everywhere I go?
Not everywhere, little bird. I’m not with you right now, but I could be.
What in God’s green fucking acres was in this box? He’d worn me down, and he knew it. The second I walked through my front door, I was going to tear into it in much the same way I annihilated the box of doughnuts that was left in our break room every Friday morning.
I beg to differ that you aren’t still with me right now, considering how much of you you left inside of me.
I watched the three dots appear and disappear, only to appear once again, maintaining the same cadence until V finally managed to type out his response.
Ever…
That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?
Trust me, I’d give you more if I were able to right now.
I’m sure you would, and as much as I would like to be bent over this conference room table, I must return to work.
You’re at work?
You must have let your stalker guard down. Yes, I’m here.
Why so late?
Because we’re getting ready for a trial, and that coworker of mine you defended didn’t feel the need to come into work today to help me.
I set my phone down on the table, glancing back and forth between the screen as I started packing the binders into banker’s boxes, so focused on awaiting V’s response that the sudden knock on the conference room door startled me.
“Shit.” I jumped. In the doorway, unexpectedly, stood Loche. “Where the hell have you been all day?”
There was something primal in his eyes. Something hiding behind them. I’d never seen him look at me as intensely as he was looking at me now. His gaze raked down my body unapologetically as though he could mark me as his territory with his eyes. A month ago, I would have had to hold myself back from introducing my knee to his testicles. But now, only four weeks later, and him a tad less of an asshole, I didn’t exactly hate the way he was looking at me.
“I was sick this morning, so I decided to work from home as opposed to infecting the entire office.” He leaned against the door frame, his eyes wandering to the conference room table.
“Oh. I guess that’s excusable.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought, too.” For someone who’d been sick, he’d cleaned up nicely. His dark wash jeans hugged his thighs and calves and weren’t something he ever wore to the office, but I wouldn’t be upset if he did. His top half was clad in a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket, together creating an ensemble that was straight out of a men’scologne ad from one of the many teen magazines I used to read. “You were busy today. Skip lunch again?”
“What do you mean by again? Do you routinely keep track of how often I do and don’t go to lunch?”
