“Good morning, Anna Black.” He grins a second before kissing me. It’s different. It’s patient like he doesn’t need to shove me up against the wall and squeeze out one more quickie. It’s as if he knows I will willingly return for more.
I guess the guy who kisses like the sun sliding up the east horizon, taking my breath away, is worthy of such confidence. I mean … the sun owns the sky, deciding when to hide behind a thin layer of clouds and when to scorch the Earth.
“Jesus …” I pull back, breathless, with my forehead propped against his and my fists clenching his shirt. “You can kiss.”
“Yes. I can, but now I have work to do.” He lifts me off his lap and smacks my ass. “Thanks for the coffee.” He cups it with one hand like making a toast before taking a swig and opening his laptop.
I retreat a step, more like stumble because that kiss has left me dizzy. “You’re arrogant.” I snatch my coffee.
Eric taps a few keys, keeping his gaze on the computer screen in spite of his lips curling a fraction. “Confident.”
“Dismissive.” I frown.
“Busy.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He types away.
“A tease.” I lift my bag onto my shoulder.
“Seductive. Go to work. Enjoy your freedom. When you’re restrained to my bed tomorrow morning, you’re going to wish you made better use of your time today.”
I try really hard to infuse confidence into my laugh, my posture, my wavering smile. “I might be restrained to a bed tomorrow morning, but it won’t be yours.” Forcing a tight smile, I exit with my chin up and extra sway to my hips as I leave his office.
Restrained to his bed? Um … no. Not happening. He watches too much porn.
Chapter Seven
Operation Avoid Eric Fucking Steinmann goes well for a solid ten days after coffee and the most incredible kiss in his office. Why am I avoiding him?
Good question.
Things we can’t resist are usually not good for us. Who has no willpower to avoid rainbow chard, three-mile jogs, and pap smears?
Eric is fried ice cream with extra chocolate and a whole jar of maraschino cherries on the first day of my period and a day I need to fit into a tight bridesmaid’s dress.
I notice his bike in the rack when I get home late from work, so I keep a watchful eye, peeking around the corner to the stairs, tiptoeing up them, peering through the glass part of the door before easing it open, and using stealth mode to move past his door toward my loft.
“Anna Black.”
Dammit!
His door makes no noise, not the turn of the handle or a single creak of the hinges.
After a hearty gulp, I turn ninety degrees to see him, but not the full one-eighty like I have any intention of not continuing to my door. “Hey. What’s up?”
He scratches his scruffy jaw. It’s thicker scruff than the last time I saw him. I guess ten days with his overabundance of testosterone equals bad news for my dry panties.
Eric rests his shoulder against the doorframe, propping the door open with his other shoulder. I instruct my eyes to stay above his nose, but they have issues with simple directions. Of course he has to have on a white tank and ripped black jeans, no shoes or socks.
“Can you step inside here for a second?”
Gulp.
“No.” I shake my head.
“No?” He chuckles. “Why not?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Me?” He jabs a finger into his chest. “What have I done to lose your trust? Or get the ten-day ghosting for that matter?”
“Nothing. I mean … I’ve been busy. Working crazy hours.”
“Not having coffee?”
“We have a Keurig. Just … saving time and money.” I ball my hands like I do at the grocery store when I pass the bakery goods.
I don’t need double chocolate chip muffins or Eric Steinmann.
“Did Freya tell you I’ve knocked on your door numerous times? You’re never home … even when I know your bike is in the rack downstairs.”
“Sometimes I walk. Sometimes I take an Uber to visit my parents.”
“Sometimes you’re hiding in your bedroom when I knock on your door.”
“I don’t know what you want,” I whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t know what this is. And I don’t like that you live three doors down from me and I have to dodge you like this.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“Ugh!” I run my fingers through my hair. “Because I don’t like the loss of control. I don’t like the polarity of emotions. One minute I like you, the next I hate you, then I’m back to liking you. Then you say something that rubs me the wrong way, and I’m back to hating you. Then you open your door looking like …” I nod to his general sexiness “This. And what am I supposed to do?”