Fuck him.
Fuck him, his perfect face, his arrogant ass…and fuck his beautiful cock.
I am so pissed, I could cry. I'm not going to, but I could.
The thing that gets me about all of this is that I didn't start this – whatever this is between us – with him. He fucking started it. It was him.
I fall back on the couch, close my eyes, and I think about that day over two months ago. Well, I think about that whole week.
.
.
.
Monday
"Edward Masen is looking at you," Angela whispers, as I take a drink of my Diet Coke.
"So?" I reply, pretending not to care, when all I really want to do is turn around and look at him.
I've seen him around the office, but we've never really had any interaction other than in meetings. And he's never once given any indication that he's ever even noticed me. Of course, men like him rarely notice women like me. It doesn't bother me. I'm used to it. And besides, I'm proud of the fact that my brain is bigger than my tits.
"You don't think he's hot?" she asks.
"I don't know," I say, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. "I don't really think about him at all."
And that's the truth. I haven't ever really thought of him in any capacity other than work. I mean, he's absolutely gorgeous, but that's it. I don't dream about him at night or anything.
"That's probably a good thing," she giggles. "I don't know if I'd be able to stop thinking about him if I started."
"Aren't you married, Angela?" I tease her.
"Yes," she giggles. "And that's why it's a good thing I don't think about him."
I laugh, but my mind is elsewhere. Wondering where he is…and if he's still looking.
He probably isn't.
"Well, anyway…" she says, standing up. "I have to get back to work. But just so you know…he's still looking."
Tuesday
He's not here today.
And I notice the fact that he's not here.
It pisses me off.
Wednesday
"You don't have any of the pink grapefruit Izze's?" I ask the barista in Starbucks as I put my egg salad sandwich on the counter.
"Nope, we're all out," she says. "Will this be all, then?"
"I guess so," I say, disappointed as I pay for my purchase.
"Are you sure you don't have one in the back?" this perfect male voice asks behind me.
I turn around, and it's him.
Edward.
God, he's beautiful.
"I already told her we didn't," she says, blushing.
He steps up beside me and smiles. And I'm almost laughing at the way she's looking at him – all blushing and giggling. And then I feel bad for her for a second.
"Could you check?" he asks, and then smiles down at me.
She turns around almost immediately. And now I'm pissed because she told me they didn't have anything. And what do you know? Here she comes less than a minute later with my drink.
"I guess we had one more," she giggles, and I want to punch her in the throat.
He pays for the drink, and then opens it, putting the lid in his pocket. I watch as he takes a long pull before he reaches it to me.
"Pink grapefruit," he says smirking. "I like things that are sweet and tart."
With that, he turns and walks out.
And I'm left here standing like a gaping idiot.
What the fuck just happened?
Thursday
"Edward is looking at you again," Angela whispers before she stands up.
"I don't care," I tell her.
Even though I'm lying.
Even though I'm dying at the thought that he might be…that he could be.
"Good for you," she says. "He's probably a player."
"Probably," I admit.
But the moment she walks away, I can't stop myself from looking around to see him. And the moment my eyes meet his across the room, he smiles and then looks down.
Friday
I'm printing a report when I run out of paper.
Fuck.
Goddamn supply closet with shelves too high for me to reach the fucking paper.
I'm inside the closet, reaching up as high as I possibly can. And I'm wearing three inch heels. I'm mean seriously. Who the fuck puts heavy paper up this high? I'm about to step up on the bottom shelf when I hear the door open behind me. And then the lights are off.
"What the actual fuck?" I hiss, trying to hide my panic as I turn around.
And even in the dark, I can see that it's him.
"Shhh," he hushes me.
"What are you doing?" I demand.
"I can't…" he whispers, stepping closer. My whole body tingles from his proximity. And I mean my whole fucking body. "I can't stop thinking about you."
"So you decide to follow me into a closet and scare the shit out of me?" I'm whispering now, too. And trying to calm my heart the fuck down. The sad thing is that I'm not sure if it's pounding because he scared me…or because he's so close now that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to.
Why do I fucking want to?
"I followed you in here because I can't stop thinking about you," he says lowly…almost roughly. "And I think," he steps in a little closer. I can smell him. He smells fucking fantastic. "I think that maybe…maybe you've been thinking about me, too."
"And what if I have been?" I ask, my voice thicker than it was before.
His presence – yeah, it's doing something to me.
"Have you?" he asks. "Have you even thought about me at all?"
It's still dark, but my eyes have adjusted, and I can see him. Fuck, he's gorgeous.
"Yes," I whisper.
"Fuck," he almost groans.
And something about that word coming from his mouth, in this small space… Well, it kills me a little. Or a lot.
He's close. He's so fucking close.
"I want to kiss you," he says, leaning in, his hands finding purchase on the shelf behind me. "Do you want that, Bella?"
And before I know what I'm doing – before I can actually think about what's happening – I hear myself responding to his question.
"Yes."
And then it's done. His mouth is over mine; his tongue is in my mouth…and he's kissing me. And even more than that, I'm kissing him back. Hard and soft…sucking and wet.
"You're so fucking sweet," he whispers, pulling back and licking a trail down to my neck. "I knew you would be so fucking sweet."
"What…what…what…" I pant, trying to find words. "What are we doing?"
He pulls back to look at me, his hand on my face. I can see his chest rising and falling. I can almost hear the pounding of his heart. Or maybe that's mine. I can't bring myself to care either way.
"What do you want to do, Bella?" he asks.
"Anything you want."
The moment I say it, I know it's the absolute truth.
"What if I told you I wanted to fuck you?" he asks. He comes back to my mouth and sucks on my bottom lip, before biting down harder than I expect him to. I whimper, but he sucks that in, too. Then he kisses and licks me again, making me forget that just a moment ago, I was hurting. "What if I told you that I want to feel you come on my cock?"
I look at him…and he's serious.
He's absolutely dead fucking serious.
And in that moment, I know.
I want the same thing.
"I said anything you want."
.
.
.
When I open my eyes, I realize my hands are in my panties. I'm rubbing my clit, and about to get off on just his memory. Just the thoughts of what he does to me.
And then there's a knock on my door.
Loud.
Persistent.
"Bella…it's Edward. I told you we needed to talk."
.
.
.
A/N
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