When you wake up, your hand is still between your thighs. You sigh and get ready then head off to work.. You're on such a high from the night before every mundane thing suddenly seems like it's the greatest thing.
"I wonder if he wants to change writers so we can speed this up," you think to yourself, "I know I kind of want to."
You ponder it more and decide to see what Sam thinks. You can't wait to get to work, you haven't been this excited to see a client ever. Then again, no client has ever moved past the harmless flirting phase. When you arrive several of your colleagues are pressing you to find out how the date went. It doesn't take long for them to read it on your face.
You start setting up in your office and can't believe how giddy you are. Sam does the unthinkable and actually shows up on time today. He saunters in, grinning and comes right up to you.
"Hey there." he says, inches from your face.
"Hi." you say in your most sultry voice.
You both stand there for a moment, staring at each other like idiots before Sam finally kisses your cheek then takes his place on the couch.
You take your seat and immediately ask the question that's been on your mind, "I've been wondering… do you want me to set you up with another writer so you and I can just… date now?"
He shifts in his seat and leans forward, "You know, I thought about that a lot last night after I got home. The thing is though, I really feel like I need YOU on this. We've already come so far and I trust you completely. I'm not sure I could be as open as I need to if I had to start over with someone else. Don't get me wrong, this is hard enough," he tugs at his pant leg as he says it, flashing you a devilish grin, "but I think we should see it through, I mean, we're nearly there."
"Fair enough then." you say. You totally understand and don't disagree with him, but you can't help but feel a little bit let down that you won't be taking him home tonight after all. "Let's get to work!"
You and Sam spend the last few weeks of his appointments with your noses to the grindstone. You both had become so anxious to finish that it's become the absolute focus every appointment. Which isn't to say there weren't moments of non-book focus outside of the appointments. Your phone was full of pretty risqué conversations with Sam. You always used to feel silly sending things like that with Riley, but with Sam it was actually pretty sexy.
On your second to last appointment Sam starts to ask, "So what happens after tomorrow. I have no more story to tell for the book so…"
You explain that once you finish typing it up, he will review it and then it will get submitted to his publisher. From there, your job is done.
On the day of your last appointment, he brings lunch again. During the lunch break, you talk with him about several publishers and he cracks a joke at you. Instinctively you pick up the closest item to you and throw it at him.
He doubles over with laughter, "Did… did you just throw a fry at me?!"
"Yes I did, you shut up!"
He continues to laugh and eats the fry in defiance. You shake your head and throw another. This one bounces right off his forehead.
"Oh you're gonna get it now," he says as he stands up and starts coming toward you.
You shriek and leap from your seat to move quickly behind your desk. He darts left and right trying to get you to run, when you assistant buzzes in.
"I heard you scream, is everything alright?!"
You shoot Sam a look and confirm you are fine. "I… Spilled. That's all. It's under control now, thank you."
You and Sam return to your seats to finish lunch, and he giggles the whole time.
"Alright get serious, mister." You say, trying to get the two of you refocused.
The night after your final appointment Sam insists on taking you to dinner before you finish up the writing. You meet him at the restaurant after getting your home office setup for the weekend work. You're seated together in a booth and you're excited to slide right up to him. Your hands are all over each other but only in the most, publicly appropriate ways. He caresses your cheek, brushes your hair out of your face, you hold hands and lay your head on his shoulder as you talk. But at no point until your food arrives are you not touching some part of each other.
When the food arrives you feed each other bites of what you ordered in between conversation. Sam tries to take his fork to your plate for more, and you pretend like you're going to jab him with your fork to shoo him away, only to take a forkful and feed him the bite yourself. Making sure to get some of it on his face. At which point you both start giggling again and he starts looking for something he can promptly smear on your face for revenge.
The waitress comes over during all this to check on you and Sam looks at her with sincere guilt. Once again, you both forgot the rest of the world existed.
When the waitress leaves again, you giggle, "This is why we can't have nice things!"
He laughs too and says, "you're telling me!" as he smears a line of mustard down your cheek.
"Oh my god." You gasp, reaching for your napkin, "you absolute asshole." You wipe your face unable to keep it straight. You have never had this much fun with someone in your life. After you wipe it off, you lean forward and kiss this silly man that fate brought into your life.
"Yellow's a good color for you, babe" he notes.
You shake your head and decide not to tell him he still has a small piece of potato on his chin for his mustard mishap.