Page 53 of Hate You Up Close

A sliver of her tan stomach peaks out from the bottom of her shirt, practically begging me to rip the flimsy piece of fabric from her body.

Fuck. What I am thinking, asking her out to breakfast?

Sheis what I want for breakfast. I want her splayed out and naked like my own personal feast.

“You see something you like?” she hums. My eyes finally trail back up to hers to find a shit-eating grin plastered across her face.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I rasp, rolling my eyes.

“Know what?” she asks. “Enlighten me.”

“That you’re every man’s wet dream,” I say without hesitation. “And you in that fucking tank top should be illegal.”

Her jaw hangs open as her eyes go wide. She’s completely shocked by my honesty.

“Now,” I croak, clearing my throat. “Go get dressed before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“We?” she asks, arching a brow. “How doIfit into this equation? I’m not in control of your actions.”

“Because if I get fired for fucking my assistant, you won’t have a job anymore,” I say in a husky tone. “That’s how.”

Shit.I really need to learn how to filter my words around her.

I can’t believe I just fucking said that out loud, and judging by startled the look on her face, neither can she.

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes heat.

“Then I guess it’s too bad I need a job,” she says in a cocky tone. My dick jerks, reacting in a way that the denim of my jeans can’t hide.

Her eyes shift down to my groin like she knows.

The air feels too thick. I need to get the fuck out of here.

“I’ll meet you outside in the hall,” I rush out, before slipping my shoes on and blowing past her.

Before the last of my self-control snaps, I open the front door and slam it behind me.

Half an hour later,I’m sitting across from Roxanne at Betsy’s, my favorite breakfast diner in downtown Dallas.

Thankfully, Roxanne is fully clothed now, but I still can’t seem to take my eyes off her. She’s wearing a slim black dress, paired with heels I would happily pay her to stomp on my neck with.

And to make matters worse, she’s wearing that ruby red lipstick that makes my dick have a mind of his own. I swear she did that shit on purpose. She knows how those crimson lips affect me. A little payback for last night I suppose. I can’t say that I don’t deserve it.

Me on the other hand…I look like shit. But for whatever reason, I still catch Roxanne ogling me in the same way I can’t keep my eyes off of her.

Minutes before we left Roxanne’s apartment, she opened the front door and dragged my ass back inside. She handed me a new, packaged toothbrush and said, “Never thought I’d be giving my spare toothbrush to you of all people, but here we are.”

I rolled my eyes before walking back inside, brushing my teeth, washing my face, and running some sink water through my hair.

It hit me as we were driving to breakfast that my need for perfection seemed to have vanished for the first time in a long time. I can’t remember the last time I went out for a meal like this…My hair is a tousled mess. Wrinkly shirt and jeans. A pair of worn Vans on my feet, which are hand-me-downs from my brother who dresses like a hipster lumberjack.

It’s hilarious how different we are. You wouldn't catch me dead wearing a hoodie paired with a fucking flannel. That’s adisgrace.

Hell, it’s rare to even catch me wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Especially on a work day. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever not worn a full suit into the office.

But today, I don’t give two shits. And it actually feels…freeing.

I’m here, having breakfast at my favorite diner with a beautiful girl who took care of me like a prince last night. And if I’m late because of it, then so be it.