I see everyone out, then make my way upstairs, dropping my notebook on my desk and flopping down in my chair. Crew left a few hours ago, something about an issue with the outside signage. I was hoping he would be back before now, but it looks like it's going to be a late one for him. After checking a few e-mails, I shut down my computer, pack up and head out.
I've been home for a couple of hours when his text comes in.
Crew: I missed you.
I try not to let that go to my head or my heart. He "missed me," not "misses me." Focus, Berklee.
Me: Yeah, I was exhausted. Headed home around 5:30.
Crew: Sleep well, beautiful.
Me: You too.
As I lie here awake, I think about him. I'm half tempted to spend some time with B.O.B., but it's a poor substitute for Crew Ledger. I fall asleep thinking of the man himself.
The next morning, I wake up late, having tossed and turned most of the night, my dreams of Crew waking me from a deep sleep. It took forever to finally fall back asleep, hence the oversleeping.
Me: I overslept. I'll be there before training starts.
Crew: Be safe.
I toss my phone in my purse, grab my heels and rush out the door. When I make it to the club, Macie is there already, as well as the rest of the staff. "Sorry, I'm late. Please go ahead and start." I run up the steps in my heels; it's a miracle that I don't fall and break my neck. I toss my purse and keys on my desk, grab my phone and notebook, then hightail it back downstairs. I managed to wave at Zane on my way past his office, but I didn't make it to Crew. I'm sure he'll look down and see that I've made it.
Macie has started the training, and even though I haven't missed much, I feel like my entire day is going to be out of sync. I hate it when I oversleep.
I'm engrossed in what Macie is saying about being seen but not heard, making eye contact, and if the customer doesn't engage, leave them be. Most who come to a club don't want to be bothered; they're here to socialize. It's a good point that I wouldn't have thought of. I'm in the middle of making notes when I feel a hand on my shoulder, and suddenly a steaming cup of coffee and a granola bar are placed in front of me. I don't need to turn around to know who it is; I would recognize that hand, those tattoos, anywhere.
"Thought you could use this," he whispers in my ear.
I turn to look over my shoulder and mouth. "Thank you." He nods and heads back upstairs.
I take a drink and sigh. This is what I needed. Opening the granola bar, I take a huge bite as my eyes travel up to the window of our offices. He can see me, but I can't see him. That doesn't matter; I can feel his gaze on me.
Grabbing my phone, I send him a text.
Me: Creeper.
Crew: You're hard to look away from.
Me: Charmer.
Crew: Beautiful.
I don't reply, just set my phone back on the table beside me and try like hell not to look up. You would think it would be creepy being watched like that, but it's not. Not when it's Crew. Not when I know the look is heated and promises more of the best sex I've ever had in my life.
ALL FUCKING WEEK it's been one thing after the other. All I've managed are a few stolen kisses with Berklee.
Today is Friday and it's looking to be more of the same. The signage company screwed up the outdoor signs, both on the street and the building itself. I've been there three times this week making sure it's exactly what I asked for. How hard can it be? They have the image.
Today, it's not the club-it's Berklee. I overheard her telling Zane earlier that she and Maggie are going to the game tonight. It's just in the next town over, but that means that my chances of getting her to work late, to get her alone, are slim to none.
"What are you scowling at?" Berklee asks from behind me.
My eyes find hers. "It's been a week today since I've been inside you."
She coughs, placing her hand over her chest. "Yeah, it's been a crazy week," she agrees once she has herself under control.
"Skip the game," I say walking toward her.
"I promised Maggie I would go. I can't cancel on her last minute."
"So, I have to wait until Monday?" I ask, stepping closer.
"Looks that way. Can you handle that?"
"A week ago I would've said yes. Today the answer is fuck no." I step closer and take her hand in mine, guiding her away from the door. Once she's standing in my office, I shut the door and lock it.
"Crew?" she questions.
"I can't wait another second. It's cruel and unusual punishment to keep me from this," I say, my hand going between her legs.
"We're not alone," she reminds me while pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side.
"Then you better be quiet." I crush my lips to hers and kiss her like she's mine. Like I own her. I slide my tongue past her lips and she opens for me, her hands in my hair. It's happened before, other women gripping my hair, but with Berklee it sends jolts of awareness through my body. She's not putting on a show. She wants me closer; she wants me to devour her.