Page 32 of Silver Fox Grump

But I can’t stop needing her in my life.

I get my phone out and follow the little blinking dot as it tracks all the way to her building, then switch to the cameras in time to see her walk through the door of her apartment. Going into the lounge, she hops onto the sofa, and for a second I’m convinced she glances up and straight into the camera as she smiles tiredly.

It feels like she’s smiling at me.

I relax a little as I watch her make dinner, and do some chores. It’s a tepid, faded version of spending a long lunch date with her. But it’s familiar. It’s good enough.

In truth, it’s scraps that I’m convincing myself aren’t making me famished for the sound of her voice and the feel of her skin on mine.

Today at the restaurant was risky, and tomorrow is a pit of despair because I can’t have lunch with her again so soon. I mustn’t take her out for lunch every day, as I’d like to. We’d be caught sooner or later, just as we’ll be discovered kissing in my office or in a storeroom.

On the one hand I cannot stay away, and on the other I’m betraying my friend. The slight frown on Wes’ face when we were in that meeting after I delayed it to eat her pussy returns to me.

If only death weren’t so final, I wouldn’t mind Wes murdering me for being with his daughter.

I take a deep breath and remind myself, again. He’s my friend. I’m so much older than Maisie. This is wrong… But the wrongness is so insubstantial compared to the feelings I have for her.

I need a reminder of why I can’t claim her. Why she isn’t mine, and never can be.

Picking up the phone, I go call Wes, but as I do, on the screen I see Maisie go to her front door, and pause.

She lets in her father, and gives him a dutiful hug and a smile that though anyone in the world think she’s happy, I know better. She’s worried.

Hours of working with her, and just as I suspect she sees through my dark moods and grumpy masks, I can see past her bright facade.

I can’t hear what they’re saying, I can’t lip-read, and fuck, I wish I’d set the cameras up with sound.

They go to the kitchen and Maisie makes a cup of tea for Wes. She has to search in the cupboard for different tea bags for him, her cheeks heating.

I don’t like this.

Wes might be my best friend, and he’s an important ally for Morden, but he’s making my girl nervous.

She goes to hand him the mug of tea, and he says something right at that moment and she jerks in shock. Tea splashes over the edge of the mug, and onto her hand.

Like the last time she was hurt, I’m on my feet in a second.

The primal part of my brain is sounding a shrill fire alarm. It’s all I can do to not race to Maisie’s apartment.

On the screen, Maisie thrusts her hand under running water and clears up the spilt tea as best she can with one hand.

Wes is talking to her, and my frustration with not knowing what’s being said mounts with my craving to look after my wounded girl. How bad is the burn?

And what the fuck did Wes say that has her slumping over the sink, her shoulders up around her ears and her head bowed.

They continue to talk, and I’m caught, a fly on a sticky trap. I have to go to her, but I can’t just turn up for no reason.

Wes is looking increasingly irritated. Finally, he crosses his arms.

Then I notice Maisie’s shoulders. They’re vibrating. Lifting up and down. For a moment, I don’t understand why. Then she turns and there are tears streaming down her face as she says something to Wes.

Watching her fall off the table is nothing,nothingcompared to this.

I don’t hesitate. I’m out of the office, punching the elevator call button, and swearing.

If Maisie is crying, I’m going to her. There’s nothing in my head but that single, primal need to get to my girl and comfort her. Protect her. Care for her and dry her tears.

Destroy anything that has upset her, even if he’s my best friend.