Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
She also carries a powder blue work tote that appears to be large enough for a laptop. The uneasiness that settles at the thought of Madelyn acquiring a job is once again unsettling. It’s certainly good for her for a number of reasons to be busy with work and to have an income.
Yet…I find myself at a loss.
I’m far too aware that I don’t know what job she got, where she’s going, or who she’s working for. Clearing my throat, I rock back in my seat, contemplating the possibilities.
I ignore the urge to station myself in the lobby of the building just for the chance to run into her. The things I want to say aren’t appropriate for the arrangement we have.
The arrangement we had. I don’t think, if my instincts are correct and she’s now employed, that Maddie needs anything else from me. Look at her, with every single strand of her hair in place, her perfect, pert body, and the spring in her step that says she’s got everything under control.
Once she’s gone, I turn the monitor off and go back to the tasks at hand, attempting to ignore thoughts of her throughout the day. Coffee comes and goes as do emails. The clock ticks by seemingly slower than it should. Every so often, I imagine Maddie on my desk, her legs spread as they were in her kitchen, and I groan with frustration and have a hardened cock that aches to be inside her again. It’s impossible for the hours to tick by without thoughts of her.
Right around five, she comes back from the office the same way, only a little more satisfied, like she made the day hers.
That’s what she did. I’m sure of it. I should be glad for her and that’s what I tell myself, that I’m glad she has found a way out of the trouble she was in.
A week passes, and then another, and I don’t get any other calls about broken windows or being short on rent money that’s due any day. I try not to look for her on the cameras, but my little seductress has a routine now. She leaves for work at the same time every day, and most days, she comes home at the same time, unless she goes out with friends. On the weekend, she goes to a yoga class with a slightly older woman who has a ring on her finger and smiles at Maddie like they’re close friends.
I hate that I can’t let go of thoughts of her unless I’m buried in work. I hate that I feel compelled to initiate a new arrangement with her, but I’m unsure of what exactly it would entail and whether or not she would be interested. I need to ensure the proposal is tempting for her. As tempting as she is to me.
I watch her leave on the screen and then I focus on the business deal sitting in my email, instead of occupying more time with thoughts of a woman who doesn’t appear to be thinking of me.
Immediately, I’m agitated and turn from my computer to face the office windows, watching the cars stories below drive past.
Harland Porter is a pain in my ass. He wants to talk about different details every day in no pattern that I can figure out. Every conversation we have makes it tempting as hell to walk away, which only makes me dig my heels in deeper. I can outlast a nervous asshole like Harland Porter. I can grow my empire by one more building. I can have anything I want.
Except Maddie.
To hell with dwelling on her. I’m not going to lose my mind over the fact that she hasn’t called, even if it’s getting harder to sleep at night. When I do sleep, I dream about her—the way she bent over the furniture, the way she wrapped her legs around me in the kitchen, the way her mouth felt.
The dreams aren’t as good as the real thing.
I’m thinking about the real thing again near the end of the month, my cock hard and my teeth gritted, when there’s a knock at my office door.
Annoyance grows. I’m not to be disturbed and the office is aware.
Before I can turn around, a feminine and soothing voice says, “Hi, Graham.”
It’s her.
Adrenaline courses through me and I do everything I can not to show a change in demeanor. As I turn and catch sight of her, I’m forced to slightly readjust myself. A cream-colored lace dress that appears youthful and springish, but also luxurious and even bridal, clings to her as she stands in the threshold. She could be a bride getting married at city hall in one of those ceremonies they feature in the Lifestyle section.
The sight does something to my lungs. I suck the air from them as a stray strand of hair falls in front of her face, and I’m forced to meet her gorgeous gaze.