I rush into the bathroom, so turned on that I’m desperate for the cold water of the shower. But I know deep down that it’s not going to be enough. I get into the shower and before I can even feel the temperature I’m bringing myself to orgasm, moaning softly as I do. But now that I’ve had the real thing, this feeling will never be the same.
Chapter 6
The next morning, I wake up early, eager to drive back to the city and avoid seeing Andrew. I don’t want it to be awkward.
Granted, it would be less awkward if I had never fucked him in the first place, but I can’t say that I regret that. I close my door softly, and head down the stairs. I grab a banana from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, and my keys where I left them on the counter last night. I have my bag, have everything.
The door to the patio opens, and in comes Andrew, coffee in hand. I can feel the blood drain from my face, and even though he’s smiling, I bolt. I walk as quickly as I can to the front of the house and out, get into my car and start it. I think he might follow me, but the door to the house remains shut. I turn the car around and start to drive, putting on my most energetic playlist in an attempt to keep me distracted from my own thoughts.
Because it’s so early there’s little traffic, and I make good time back into the city. The building is quiet, and I go to my little office to wait until the ten a.m. messenger delivery. My uncle wants me to make copies of the discovery—why is it always copies?—for several of the partners. After that I’ll head back out to the estate for the client meeting.
I use the time to read some of the files from the Sterling murder. If I’m going to be helping out on it, I need to know more. There was no sign of forced entry into the mansion, but Mrs. Sterling was strangled to death. There was a sign of significant struggle inside the room where she was killed—the bedroom. In the first interviews, Mr. Sterling said he had no idea who could have done this. He admitted he had plenty of enemies in the corporate world, but didn’t know of any who would resort to murder. He swore he wasn’t in the house. They had a fight and he went for a drive, but the security system doesn’t show him leaving when he says he did.
I get absorbed in the details of the case, memorizing what I can, and soon the alarm on my phone is going off, telling me it’s ten o’clock.
The messenger is right on time, and thankfully the file isn’t as large as the ones from that first day. I don’t think this one is going to break the copier. At least I hope not.
And it doesn’t. The copying goes smoothly, and I have the packets prepared in record time. I put them into the office mail slot to be picked up, and take a breath. At least today is going to plan. So far so good. I’ve avoided Andrew, and successfully completed my first task. Coffee. I need coffee.
Unlike most offices, this place has amazing coffee. The espresso machine kicks major ass, and I deserve some of that goodness in my life before I drive another two hours. The coffee room is actually my favorite place in the entire firm. It’s warm and welcoming with deep armchairs, mahogany bookcases, and rich colors. There’s nearly always people in here reading files or taking a break, but I get lucky. Since it’s still early in the day the room is empty.
I take my time making my favorite kind of coffee, and find the largest travel cup I can. I’m pouring the coffee into the cup when I hear the door open behind me. I hold back a sigh. It was only a matter of time before someone came in.
“This was the second place I looked.”
The coffee splashes over the edge of the cup and I bite my lip to keep from cursing.
“The first was the copy room,” Andrew says as I mop up the spilled coffee.
“Oh? Well I guess you just missed me in there.” Don’t look at him. Don’t engage. Don’t want him.
Pfft. Fat chance of that.
I feel him come up behind me. “You left before I could even say good morning.”
“I had to get on the road.” I snap a lid onto the coffee cup.
“Hmm…I thought it might have something to do with the fact that you think I’m a despicable person.”
I turn around to face him, letting my anger into my voice. “I didn’t say that.”
Oh, turning around was a big mistake. Because now I can see him in his perfectly cut suit, and now that I know what’s under it I’ll never be able to look at him the same way. He steps toward me, blocking me in with his arms on the counter. He always seems to try to keep me from running. But I suppose that’s my fault since I’m the one who’s always running.
“You didn’t say it, but it’s what you meant.”