Page 5 of Older Hotter Grumpier
I’ll have an evening of indulging in her by my side, her hand in mine, my palm at the small of her back guiding her. I’ll have my fill of limited, casually intimate touches. I’ll brush the blonde hair from her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. I’ll wrap my arm around her waist, pull her close, and kiss the top of her head.
For one night, we’ll pretend.
“But why do you need a fake date?” she asks, straightening her shoulders. “You could have any woman you liked.”
“I don’t want any of those women.” I wanther. Ella.
“And they get tedious, I suppose, throwing themselves at you,” she continues.
I nod, because since I met Ella the thought of being with anyone else has left me cold. Compared to my vibrant assistant, my cock says meh.
She has this bright energy that matches her sunshine hair and smile and I want to bathe in it every time I see her. She’s a walking light box and eases the seasonal affective disorder that I get in all four seasons. Anytime she’s not here.
“So I’ll run interference.” She perks up. “Just like when we’re at work, I’ll protect you from unwanted attention, because you don’t need women fawning over you.”
I nod slowly, because if that’s how she wants to justify this to herself, sure.
“One evening of being your fake date, and we’ll forget that… Incident… Ever happened?”
“If that’s what you prefer,” I reply evenly. Hopefully the possessive monster in my chest will be satisfied, and she can continue being my assistant while I live off the memories.
She lets out a shaky breath, like she’s been holding it. “Okay. Okay, thank you, Mr Blackwood.”
“Rafe.”
She swallows and repeats my name softly. “Rafe.”
And hell, that makes my cock twitch. It pleases me that she calls me Mr Blackwood, or boss. But Rafe? That’s special. Not an honorific, or something any of my men would call me.
“Where shall I meet—”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.” I’m already counting the minutes until I can justify touching her.
“Right.” There’s that anxiety again. “And the dress code?”
Oh, this has potential I hadn’t realised. Not just a girlfriend. No. Nothing so commonplace for my girl. “Everything for you to wear will be provided.”
“But the size—”
“It will be the right size,” I assure her. It will be, or someone will be shot.
She smiles shyly. And like with every sunshine smile she gives me, my heart seizes up my whole body. I can’t do anything but watch her from beneath lowered brows.
If I was a better man, one who deserved her and was at least a decade younger, I would return that smile. I’d tell her that from the moment she walked into my office that first day, I was transfixed by her. Her smile. Her mouth. The cascade of blonde hair that she always has in a swishy ponytail.
I’d find her a new job and take her on real dates.
Instead, I’m me. Covered by a black shadow of my own deeds and bad temper, on the edge of giving up or burning everything to the ground most days. Until my sunshine dragon gave me something to live for.
She must be used to my lack of response, because after a beat, she turns to go.
“I’ll get back to work,” she murmurs. “Thank—”
“Wait.”
She halts instantly. My cock, which has been chubby throughout this conversation, swells.
This is the problem. Her doing what I tell her—and she does that excellently—makes my cock impossibly hard. Painfully.
