Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1) - Page 33

The jarring sound of my cell phone ringing breaks through my thoughts. I fumble in my purse for it, yanking it out and swiping my finger over the screen before I bother to look down to see who is calling.

Sophia calls me almost every afternoon when she hits the four o’clock lull.

She needs that extra push to get her through to the end of the day. It’s either a candy bar or gossiping with me that helps her climb the hill to quitting time.

“So you didn’t give in to temptation today?” I joke before she can say anything.

“Actually...” a man’s voice on the other end of the call startles me. “I did give in to temptation. That’s the reason why I’m still sitting in the visitors’ lounge waiting to see you.”

“Rocco?” I ask although I know it’s him. My body has never reacted this way to another man’s voice. Ever.

My nipples have stiffened into tight points under my pink dress; my core aches.

I slump into the chair behind my desk and close my eyes.

The café it is.

At least there, I can tame my desire and focus on business.

“I’ve been waiting for close to an hour, Dexie.” He sighs, the sound more of a rumble than a breathless release. “I’ll wait forever, but I’d prefer not to.”

I took an important call after Shona let me know he was here. I lost track of time. Daydreaming about his ripped abs after the call didn’t help.

“I’ll be right out,” I say softly. “Wait right there.”

There’s a low chuckle before he says anything. “I won’t move a muscle.”

Muscle.

My thoughts float back to this morning and how he looked in that tight white T-shirt.

“See you soon,” I say in a too-high voice.

“Soon,” he repeats back in a dangerously low tone.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath after I end the call. “Get it together, Dexie.”

All the encouraging self-talk in the world isn’t going to help me. I have to go and face the man who may be instrumental in making all of my professional dreams come true, even though he’s the star of every one of my personal fantasies.

***

I feel like I’m strutting a runway as I saunter down the narrow corridor that leads to the reception area.

My office is to the right where the junior executives and up-and-comers all work. The wider corridor that leads to the left is where the senior marketing staff’s offices are.

My promotion six months ago landed me a small office and the title of Marketing Specialist. Essentially, I’m straddling the line between newbie and junior manager.

I watch Rocco as I take measured steps toward

where he’s sitting.

His gaze is once again cast down to his phone, his fingers blazing a trail over the screen.

I’m grateful that his attention is occupied.

My nipples have yet to calm the hell down and the thin fabric of my wrap dress leaves little to the imagination.

I’m less than three feet from him when his head pops up and his eyes take me in. He rakes me slowly from head-to-toe, his lips parting just ever so slightly.

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Calvettis of New York Romance
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