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“Oh… coffee. Yippee.” Veronika claps her hands together twice before signaling for Mara to come closer. “I’ve been dying for a drink. My throat is on fire.”
“Because you speak in run-on sentences, and you’ve barely paused to breathe in almost an hour.”
It dawns on me that I said my last statement out loud when the corners of Mara’s chunky lips tug upward. Her smile only lasts for the quickest second, but it hangs around long enough to reduce the shudder clanging the ceramic mugs together.
Unlike Rafael’s Friday-night guests, Veronika doesn’t ridicule Mara when she asks if she’d like sugar in her coffee. She eagerly nods, blind to Mara’s stutter, before she thanks her for her hospitality. “This is the most scrumptious coffee I’ve ever had.”
Her polite response ensures she won’t endure the repercussions Ainissa and her friend faced Friday night. I’ll keep my mouth shut about the sleazy bowling alley owner. He isn’t worth the breaths I’d need to update you on what happens when you try to barter sex for a woeful fifty-dollar discount.
Mara’s perfume tickles my nose when she moves to my side of the table to serve the coffee. It isn’t the same scent that held me captive in her kitchen four days ago, but it is almost identical to the one that’s kept my cock in a constant state of erection for the past week.
The urge to come has been so intense that I’ve stroked my cock to Mara’s scent multiple times over the past four days.
I’m almost out of shampoo.
That’s how much the quickest sample of her mouth has invigorated me. Don’t get me started on her fuckable body and beautifully stunning face, or we will be here all night.
Even without an ounce of makeup, her face is fresh and radiant, a handful of freckles adding to her youthful appearance. Her thighs tell you she will be a dream to fuck, and the tilt of her mouth, along with the fire in her eyes, promises not a moment of dullness will be endured while in her presence.
She is fascinating, a true sight for sore eyes, and she tastes even more scrumptious than she looks.
After sinking back from the table, her strides wobbly, as if she heard my private thoughts, Mara locks her eyes with mine. “Is there anything e-else you require?”
She’s served the coffee she arrived with. There’s nothing more she can do. But for the life of me, I can’t dismiss her from the room.
It is easier to walk away than to demand that she do precisely that.
I don’t solely want her to save me from another torturous minute in Veronika’s presence. I also want to know how she’d answer the many questions Veronika dodged at the start of our interview and why her stomach growled even though her shift only started an hour ago.
Did she not eat breakfast this morning?
I’m saved from showing a nurturing side I don’t want publicly announced when a knock sounds through the conference room for the second time.
Rafael’s broad frame fills the doorway that separates the security office from the boardroom. His grin is hugely telling.
A ruse is about to begin, but I have no intention of dodging it this time.
“V, I have Riley Valentine on the phone. She heard you were in town and wondered if you had time to squeeze in an appointment at the boutique?”
Veronika’s squeal is more ear damaging than her voice. “TheRiley Valentine? As in the understudy of Wilfred Iwona?” When Rafael nods, Veronika leaps up from her chair and sprints out of the room, screaming that she can’t believetheRiley Valentine reached out to her.
My ego is saved from being scalded when she spins around to farewell me with an air kiss. Don’t mistake my reply. I’ll happily live never exchanging another word with Veronika. I am responding to the jealousy that has slipped over Mara’s face from Veronika’s loved-up farewell.
Jealousy has never looked more ravishing.
An amused huff rumbles in my chest when Mara whispers, “She se-seems nice,” a second after Veronika exits the conference room, slamming the door behind her.
When my chuckle reaches her ears, her pretty eyes snap to me. She drinks in my riled expression like she knows not a groove between my brows belongs to her before she wrinkles her adorable nose.
“If you needed a ruse to escape her clutches, you could have just t-told me.” She hints at an interest in fashion by adding, “Her scarf cost over five thousand dollars. It w-would have only taken a wayward drop of coffee to have her running for the closest washroom.” As quickly as jealousy was etched on her beautiful face, it is replaced with remorse. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Not necessarily.” I slouch low in my chair as if I weren’t mere seconds from vacating it before draping my arm across the one next to me like I have all the time in the world. “I was seeking an out.” She looks pleased, and it thrills me immensely. “And I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t as equally invested in learninghow you developed your date-skirting techniques as I was to skip this date.”
“Date? You were on a d-date?”
She looks set to run when I nod, but the fire she’s endeavoring to relight in her eyes keeps her feet firmly planted on the ground.
There’s that fighter I’ve been endeavoring to unearth.