Chapter Nineteen
Logan
Quinn gives me this ridiculous sort of silent treatment-type bullshit over the next few days at work. I mean, she speaks to me when she has to, like when we’re in a meeting or something, but past that it’s like a cold, frosty wall.
And it’s pissing me the fuck off.
Beyond that, I swear she’s going out of her damn way to look fucking amazing around the office. Okay, it’s not like I’m witnessing some sort of porno slutty-doctor-outfit fantasy or anything. It's the opposite actually, and that's what so damn enticing about it. She’s formal, and all business, but there’s something crazy sexy about the way she wears her hair up, or pushes the dark-framed glasses she sometimes wears instead of contacts up the bridge of her nose. She’s got these fucking pencil skirts too that just hug every sweet curve of her ass and show off her legs, and I can’t help but let my eyes linger on her as she walks away from a meeting room, or leans over a desk to type a quick note.
But, while she might be giving me the hardest, most consistent hard-on in the history of the world, that doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed at her for freaking out after that last time together and then getting all weird with me. She’s acting like a total bitch, and it’s rubbing off on my own demeanor in not the best way. Bryce has already called me out twice in the last few days about my attitude. I’m sure he thinks it’s about the new project, which is fine because there’s no way I can tell him it’s actually because I can’t get my mind or my cock to stop dwelling on William Archer’s oldest daughter.
Which brings me to the other thing bugging me. I might be pissed, but fuck, this was never supposed to happen. Hell, this never should have happened the first time, but letting her get under my skin like this and having this whole thing simmer from fooling around into actually sleeping with her a second time is just ridiculous. So whatever bullshit mopey crap I’m feeling, I deserve it for not listening to my own fucking advice. And I can see through that “cold shoulder” routine of hers. She might be mad, but really, I know she’s embarrassed. She’s embarrassed that a girl like her let herself get caught up in a fuck-up like me.
But the frosty looks are starting to get to me, so I end up cornering her when coming out of her office later that afternoon.
“What.” She says, overly dramatic contempt dripping from her lips.
“Oh, drop the indignant bullshit, sweet cheeks.” I growl.
She blushes; “Don’t fucking call me that.”
“Fine.” I plaster a big fake smile on my face. “Quinn, this whole thing between us?”
“There is no ‘thing’ between us, Logan.” She hisses out, looking around as if to make sure no one’s looking. “There’s no-”
“Look we can drop the bitchy ice-queen attitude, darlin.” I take a step closer to her, close enough that we’re practically touching and so close that she takes a step back against her office door. Her breath catches, and I see that fire blaze in her eyes just for second, but it’s enough.
It’s enough to instantly shift me from angry to just plain wanting her, and the way the color blooms in her cheeks and the way I can see her nipples getting hard beneath that fucking blouse tells me I’m not the only one feeling that way here. I can feel my cock getting hard in my pants in spite of the fact that we’re at work, or in spite of the fact that she’s deliberately gone out of her way to be a bitch to me the last few days, and I find myself narrowing my gaze as our eyes meet.
“We can't keep getting tangled up like this,” she whispers. “We have work to do, Logan.” She says quietly, her eyes still blazing at me.
“It can wait,” I growl, and I’m milliseconds away from kissing her right there when she shakes her head quickly and pushes me back.
She frowns and blows air out through her pouty lips. “No, Logan, I can’t,” she says pointedly. “This stops right here.”
But Goddamnit, she’s still got that wild look in her eyes, and those fucking nipples are just begging for my fingers, and that skirt is just asking to be yanked up over her hips.
“Is that what you really want, darlin?” I move close and growl into her ear.
I can hear her breath catch as she swallows whatever she was about to say. Her bottom lip trembles, and I know right there that if she says one more fucking word, or moves one millimeter closer to me then I’m going to drag her into her office and fuck her over the desk until she comes screaming my name.
“I- I don’t know,” she breathes out, and it's enough to just push me past that boundary.